Esther, it may readily then be supposed, did not delay after their arrival, to go to see both Holden and his son.  She could not behold again, and recognize the child she had preserved, in the young man who stood before her, without strong feeling, nor could Pownal look unmoved upon the gentle and timid woman, to whom he was so much indebted.  Esther knew again the string of coral beads she had left upon the boy’s neck, and ascribed it to the whispers of the Great Spirit, that she had allowed them to remain.  She did not return from her visit to Pownal empty handed.  In fact, she was loaded with as many presents, of such articles as suited her condition and half-civilized taste, as she and the boy, Quadaquina, who commonly accompanied her, could carry.  It was the mode which naturally suggested itself to Pownal, as alike most pleasing to Peena, and most calculated to impress her mind with a sense of his estimate of her services, especially as there was connected with the gifts a promise, that during his life her wants and wishes should all be supplied.  Peena now felt herself the happiest and richest of her tribe, and her heart glowed with devotion towards those who had been the means of investing her with wealth, and the consequence attached to it.

“Hugh!” ejaculated Ohquamehud, in amazement, as the squaw and her son threw down upon the floor of the cabin the rich red and blue cloths, and hats, and shoes, and other articles which Pownal had pressed upon them.  The exclamation escaped involuntarily, but, with a natural politeness, the Indian asked no questions, but waited till it should please the squaw to furnish an explanation.

The sweet-tempered Peena saw his desire, and turning to the boy, she said, in their native language, in which the three always conversed together: 

“Speak, Quadaquina, that the eyes of thy father’s brother may be opened.”

The boy, in obedience to the command of his mother, and without looking at the Indian, tersely replied: 

“They are the gifts of my white brother with the open hand, the son of the Longbeard.”

Ohquamehud appeared offended, and he asked, in a sharp tone: 

“Is Quadaquina ashamed, when he speaks to a warrior, to look him in the eyes, and did he learn his manners from the pale faces?”

The boy turned round, and gazed full at the other, and his eyes glistened, yet it was in a low, soft tone he replied: 

“Quadaquina is a child, and knows not the customs of warriors, and children turn away their eyes from what they do not wish to see.”

Ohquamehud’s face darkened as he said: 

“The arts of the Longbeard have blown a cloud between me and my kindred, so that they cannot see me, and it is time my feet were turned towards the setting sun.”

“It is the fire-water that puts out the eyes of Ohquamehud, and makes him forget what he owes to the wife of Huttamoiden,” exclaimed the boy, with suppressed passion.