as on the field of battle.  The squaws, in their gayest garb, with mirrors flashing on their breasts, and beads all shining as they moved, danced round the betrothed; and there she stood, the love-lorn Leemah, her black hair all unbraided, and her dark eyes piercing the far depths of night, as if looking for her lover.  Nor looked she long in vain, for suddenly and fearlessly Silas sprung upon the shore, dashed through the circle, and bore off the Indian bride to his bark.  Then rose the war-shout of her people, while pealed among them the rifles of the hunters.  Again came the war-whoop, mingled with the death shriek of the wounded.  A hunter stood up and echoed them in mockery, but an arrow quivered through his brain and he was silent, while the stream grew covered with shadowy canoes, filled with dark forms shouting for revenge.  On came they with lightning’s speed, and on sped the hunters knowing now that their only safety was in flight.  On dashed they through the waters which now began to bear them forward with wondrous haste.  A thought of horror struck them:  they were in the rapids, while before them the white foam of the falls flashed through the darkness.  The tide had ebbed in their absence, and the river, smooth and level when full, showed all across it, at the flood, a dark abyss of fearful rocks and boiling surf.  This they knew, but it was now too late to recede; the dark stream bore them onward, and now even the Indians dare not follow, but landed and ran along the shore shouting with delight at their inevitable destruction.  It was a moment of dread, unutterable horror to Silas and his comrades.  Their bark whirled round in the giddy waves—­then was there a wild plunge—­a fearful shock—­a shriek of death, and the flashing foam gathered over them, while loudly rang the voices from the shore.  But suddenly, by some mighty effort, the boat was flung clear of the rocks and uninjured into the smooth current of the lower stream.  A few strokes of the oar brought them to the fort, which they entered; and heard the Indians howling behind them like wolves baffled of their prey.  But they and the dangers they had so lately passed were alike forgotten in the night’s carousal; and, when the season was ended, they returned to their homes in the settlements, enriched with the spoils they had gained in hunting, and Silas with his treasured pearl of the prairie.

But here, some months after they returned, and while, his heart was yet brightened with her smiles, a dark shade passed over her sunny brow, and she vanished from his home.  An Indian of her tribe was said to have been lingering near the village, and she no doubt had joined him and returned to her kindred.  Other tidings of her fate Silas heard not.  Alas! she knew the undying vengeance of her people, and by giving herself up to them thought to shield him from their hatred.