words; the other had gone off, she knew not where.

What remained for her to do?

While the little one asked herself the question, and was trying, to
think what course she should follow, the absent Seneca was working
out the mischievous plot he had formed, and which was fully known
to his companions.

An uprooted tree lay extended on the ground, near where Mrs. Ripley
and her children saw Linna run off to plead with the Indians. Since
they could do nothing but wait, helpless and almost despairing,
for the return of the child, they sat down on the prostrate trunk.

Ben was near the base, close to the mass of upturned roots, which
spread out like an enormous fan, with its dirt and prong-like
roots projecting in all directions. He was tired, depressed, and
worn out. It will be remembered he had not slept a wink during the
preceding night, or eaten a mouthful of food since then. Strong,
sturdy, and lusty as he was, he could not help feeling the effects
of all this.

He leaned his rifle against a huge, gnarled root, within arm's
length of where he half reclined, with his feet extended along the
trunk. He had but to reach out his hand, without moving his body,
to grasp the weapon whatever moment it might be needed.

Exhausted as he was, his condition was too nervous to permit
slumber. His mother had said she thought the end was at hand, and
he believed the same.