the last syllable. It was an offer no Indian could resist, and the
squaw answered simply in the affirmative. From a pitcher of the
grateful beverage, which shortly before had been brought into the
room, and which, indeed, suggested the offer, the doctor filled a
foaming glass, and the squaw was not long in draining its contents,
after which she delivered herself of her errand.

"Esther," exclaimed the doctor, rising and hastening to collect his
instruments and medicine pouch, "thou hast circumvented me. Why did
you not tell me before? Here have I been pouring cider into your
royal gullet, when I should have hastened to take a bullet out of some
plebeian carcass. Can you tell me the name of the wounded man?"

The squaw shook her head, and only said, "Esther not know."

By this time his preparations were completed, which he had not allowed
the conversation to interrupt, and closely followed by the woman, he
hastened to the wharf. Here casting an eye to the flys that waved from
the masts of some of the vessels, and observing the wind was fair, he
rejected her offer to take him in the canoe, and throwing himself
into a little sail-boat, was soon busily engaged in untying the sails.
While thus employed a voice saluted his ears:

"Why, doctor, what is in the wind now?"

The person who thus addressed him was a young man of probably not more
than twenty-five years of age. His dress indicated that he belonged to
the wealthier class of citizens, and there was something pleasing in
his manners and address.