in both, and the stranger was made to understand that one division was
for her accommodation. But here again her courage failed her, and to
the most pressing entreaties she replied that she would sit and sleep
by the fire. This determination seemed to puzzle the Indian and his
squaw sadly. They looked at one another, and conversed softly in their
own language; and at length, the squaw taking her guest by the hand,
led her to her couch and became her bedfellow.

In the morning she awoke greatly refreshed, and anxious to depart
without further delay; but this her new friends would not permit,
until she had eaten of their corn cakes and venison. Then the Indian
accompanied his guest, and soon conducted her to the spot where the
cattle were grazing. These he drove from the wood, on the edge of
which Mrs. M'Dougal descried her husband, who was equally delighted at
seeing her, as her absence from home all night had caused him great
uneasiness. They invited their Indian benefactor to their house, and,
on his departure, presented him with a suit of clothes.

Three days after, he returned and endeavored, partly by signs, and
partly by broken English, to induce Farmer M'Dougal to follow him into
the forest; but he refused. Time was precious to him, who had to work
hard for every thing he possessed, and the Indian repeated his
entreaties in vain. The poor fellow looked grieved and disappointed;
but a moment after, a sudden thought struck him. He hit on an
expedient which none but an Indian hunter would have thought of.

Mrs. M'Dougal had a young child, which the Indian's quick eye had not
failed to notice; and, finding that his eloquence was completely
thrown away upon the parents, he approached the cradle, seized the
child, and darted out of the house with the speed of an antelope. The