between the stately captives and weaving the gaudy wampums to be
bestowed, with the shy little weavers themselves, upon such young braves
as should be deemed worthy by the great council. Their stolen glances of
admiration and pity, however, were intercepted by the young brave who
brought home and so suspiciously guarded the prisoners. He was a fierce,
wicked savage, with repulsive, glistening eyes, evincing a cunning,
revengeful disposition.

[Illustration: GREAT OAK]

At the side of this savage hung a string of fresh scalps, and a gleam of
exultation shot across his swarthy visage as he pointed to the gory
trophies at his belt, saying:

"The Black Snakes scalps are fresh from his enemies; the fingers of the
Gentle Fawn cannot number them."

"The Fawn does not like the smell of blood," quickly answered the
sensitive maid. "The Black Snake is a boy, and does not know his friends
from his enemies."

"The Fawn has been taking lessons from the mocking-birds," replied Black
Snake, "and has learned many tunes; she sings now for the ears of the
sunny Eagle, whose wings are too feeble to fly. His last flight will be
short (pointing to the cataract); he will not need his wings, and the
Gentle Fawn will soon learn to sing to Black Snake. The Fawn is an
infant, and Black Snake will feed her on birds' eggs." Approaching with
a noiseless step, he continued, in a lower tone: "The Black Snake will
be a great warrior; he must build a lodge of his own whereon to hang his
enemies' scalps (shaking them in her face), and the Gentle Fawn will