indeed, had been the quiet superiority of the Tuscarora's
reserve, that Charles Cap, for so was the seaman named, in his most
dogmatical or facetious moments, had not ventured on familiarity
in an intercourse which had now lasted more than a week. The
sight of the curling smoke, however, had struck the latter like the
sudden appearance of a sail at sea; and, for the first time since
they met, he ventured to touch the warrior, as has been related.

The quick eye of the Tuscarora instantly caught a sight of the
smoke; and for full a minute he stood, slightly raised on tiptoe,
with distended nostrils, like the buck that scents a taint in the
air, and a gaze as riveted as that of the trained pointer while
he waits his master's aim. Then, falling back on his feet, a low
exclamation, in the soft tones that form so singular a contrast to
its harsher cries in the Indian warrior's voice, was barely audible;
otherwise, he was undisturbed. His countenance was calm, and his
quick, dark, eagle eye moved over the leafy panorama, as if to take
in at a glance every circumstance that might enlighten his mind.
That the long journey they had attempted to make through a broad
belt of wilderness was necessarily attended with danger, both
uncle and niece well knew; though neither could at once determine
whether the sign that others were in their vicinity was the harbinger
of good or evil.

"There must be Oneidas or Tuscaroras near us, Arrowhead," said
Cap, addressing his Indian companion by his conventional English
name; "will it not be well to join company with them, and get a
comfortable berth for the night in their wigwam?"

"No wigwam there," Arrowhead answered in his unmoved manner -- "too