At length they fell upon Mayne.
“Edgar!” she cried, stretching forth her hands. “Come to me.”
Unable to speak, the young hunter advanced.
“William, this is our boy,” she said, taking our hero’s hands, and looking up at Hewitt. “Long I waited for your return, William; but you came not. At last I resolved to go to Richmond, where I thought you were detained. I took our boy—a little babe—to Ronald Fairfax, and told him to keep him till I should return. Then, all alone, I plunged into the wilderness, but soon the Shawnees circled around me, and I was a prisoner. While they were conducting me to the village I tried to escape, but a chief struck me with his tomahawk, and then all was dark. Oh, William, how long have I been in darkness? You are so old now, and our Edgar a man!”
“For twenty years, Agnes, you have lived among the Shawnees, reft of reason,” whispered Hewitt.
A shudder crept to the woman’s heart.
“Twenty years a maniac! My God!” she cried. “Oh, William, speak not to me of that time. I would forget it. Let us leave this horrid place.”
Almost unassisted, she gained her feet, and Tecumseh bade the hermit conduct her to his beaded lodge, while the chief chivalrously occupied a meaner one near by.
The hours of that night were sacred to the reunited trio; and beyond earshot a band of warriors encircled the beaded wigwam.
Tecumseh would keep his vow.