bright with fever: gently she declined all that was proffered, and her
hollow cough chased the smile from the lips of her friends. Dr. Bryant
knelt beside her, and taking one hot hand in his own, asked, in a low
anxious voice, if she suffered.

Turning away her face, she said--"Oh no, not much. There is, however,
such a painful throbbing about my heart I can scarcely breathe. And I
not feverish?" she continued.

"Yes;" and he placed his fingers on the pulse, beating violently. "I
am afraid you have taken severe cold--the day has been so inclement."
And, with a somewhat unsteady hand, he administered a potion.

"Don't feel uneasy about me, Doctor, I shall be better when I sleep."
And she turned away, and wearily closed her eyes.

When the camp-fire burned low, and all slumbered save Mary, who could
not calm her feverish excitement, and lay wide awake, she fancied
she heard steps around the tent. All was silent; then again came
the sound; and raising herself, she thought she perceived some one
standing near the entrance. The figure disappeared, and then followed
a rumbling, stamping, kicking, as though the horses were verily
bewitched. "The Indians!" thought Mary; and quickly rising, she threw
a black mantle round her, and creeping to the door of the tent,
peeped cautiously out. The horses still seemed restless, stamping and
snorting, and she thought she could softly reach the adjoining tent
and rouse the gentlemen, knowing that their arms were in readiness.
She had just stepped out of her own tent, and stood out of doors, when
she caught a glimpse of a dark, muffled figure walking toward her.
The rain had ceased, but it was very dark, and only by the aid of the