"
"Do you know where she is?" inquired Edward, dropping to his feet, and
seating himself on a log facing the others.
"Somewhere in the forest," replied the Indian, indicating the direction
by a broad sweep of the hand, which might include a thousand acres.
This was sufficiently indefinite. "It appears to be characteristic of
this young lady that she is either a vanished joy, or just on the
point of becoming one. Have you any idea how far away she is?" he
asked.
"Something more than twice the flight of an arrow," tranquilly
answered the Indian--"yes, much more. It used to be that she went
short distances, but she now goes a papoose's journey of half a
sun--sometimes further." He viewed his impatient guest a moment with
gravity, and added, "yes, much further."
"And you trust her all alone?"
"She is an Algonquin maiden. She fears nothing."
"And why is an Algonquin superior to a Huron, for instance?" The young
man, leaning idly back, and caressing the Indian dog of the chief,
pursued his questions without any definite purpose, but merely to draw
out his reserved-looking host.
"Why is the fleet deer that spurns the soil better than the dull ox
that tills it? Or why is the eagle better than the hen that picks up
corn in your doorway? But there was a time when in all the land no
Indian could be found who was tame and stupid--what you call
civilized.
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