sympathy, but in the noble simplicity of a heart depressed
by the fall of his race--Fuller could not doubt; and every
generous feeling of his soul was enlisted in behalf of this
young Indian.

"Seneca," he repeated slowly, dropping his voice to
something like the soft, deep tones of the other; "then you
are in your own country, here?"

"My country," answered the red man, coldly, "no; my
FATHER'S country, yes."

His English was good, denoting more than a common
education, though it had a slightly foreign or peculiar
accent. The intonations of his voice were decidedly those of
the Indian.

"You have come to visit the land of your fathers?"

A slight wave of the hand was the reply. All this time the
young Seneca kept his eye fastened in one direction,
apparently regarding some object in the lake. Fuller could
see nothing to attract this nearly riveted gaze, though
curiosity induced him to make the effort.

"You admire this sheet of water, by the earnest manner in
which you look upon it?" observed Fuller.

"See!" exclaimed the Indian, motioning toward a point
near a mile distant. "He moves! may be he will come