The lad's slumbers were indeed troubled, and yet 'twas only a dream, that he had often dreamt before. His brain had often been puzzled as to why this particular dream should recur to him so often. He dreamt that he was a little bairn again, far away across the Big Salt Lake, in the Homeland; and that a rough but kindly man took him on his knee, and spoke to him in tones of melting tenderness. "Poor motherless bairn!" he said, and the tears rained down his rough face. But the little child, with sunshine in his bonny face, and laughter in his bright blue eyes, crowed and chuckled, and pulled the rough man's beard.
It was at this point that Young Eagle had placed his hand on the lips of his sleeping companion, causing him to start, and to open his eyes for an instant, but he quickly closed them again.
Then his dream continued, but it changed suddenly. Side by side with Jack, and his two dusky companions, he ranged the forest, hunting the bear, and trapping the beaver in his lodges of bark and logs, when suddenly they came upon an Indian camp in a little clearing of the forest, and there with his back to an elm-tree, tied hand and foot, was an old paleface hunter, undergoing torture at the hands of a band of cruel red men.
Bravely he suffered it all, like a hero, and not a cry of pain escaped his lips. A dozen arrows, knives and hatchets pierced the tree about his head and face, and although the coup de grâce had not been given, yet the blood flowed freely from several wounds. His lips were compressed, and not a groan escaped them, but inwardly he prayed to God that death might bring him release from this slow and cruel torture.
A fierce-looking chief taunted him with being a paleface snake, and a Yengeese, and urged his warriors to prolong the torture.
"Let us see if a cursed Yengeese has red blood in his veins, or whether he has the heart of a Delaware," he cried.
"Your tongue is forked, Muskrat, and your warriors tremble at the sight of a paleface, so that their knives cannot find his heart!" cried the hunter, in the hope of urging his enemies to end his torture by a fatal blow.
"My young men wish to know if a Yengeese can bear pain like a red warrior."
"Your young men are squaws! Go tell your Canada Father to find them petticoats!"
This stinging insult brought a shower of tomahawks and knives about his head. One of them pierced his arm, and pinioned it to the tree, but he bore the pain bravely, and smiling grimly back upon his captors, said--