heart hounded with joy and gratitude. Rodolph was near; and all would
yet be well.

Little Nepea had led Edith to the shore while the warriors were
discussing their plans; and in a strange mixture of English and Indian
words, the children were conversing on the recent sad event. The quick
ear of the young savage had detected the splash of oars at the farther
side of the lake, and he instantly discovered the three canoes that
were leaving the opposite coast, and emerging from the deep shadow of
the overhanging trees. He had raised that joyful cry; and now all the
inhabitants of the village rushed down to the shore to welcome their
brethren, and to tell the startling news.

Nearest to the brink stood Helen and her little girl, closely attended
by Mooanam and the Squaw-Sachem Apannow, who shared her impatient
anxiety for the return of the embassy, that they might have the benefit
of Maitland's counsel, and also obtain an addition to their forces. The
elder, Brewster, was deeply moved at the misfortune that had befallen
his young friend, Henrich. But he knew that not a moment was to be
lost! and, while all others were crowding down to the lake side, he
busied him self in arranging the volunteers for the pursuit, and seeing
that his own musket was in a proper state for active service.

The canoes sped swiftly across the moonlit waters; and as they neared
the shore, Rodolph perceived the forms of his wife and daughter,
surrounded by the dark Indians, and ready to receive him. But he felt
only pleasure at this unexpected and welcome meeting. No feeling of
alarm crossed his breast, until he drew near enough to distinguish
Helen's countenance; and then he knew that she had come with evil
tidings. He sprang from the canoe, eager to hear the truth: but all