and his hunting-knife stuck in his girdle; for he scorned to be a packhorse for the pale faces.

As he entered the village, his countenance was stamped with more than usual austerity. I spoke to him, but he made no reply. He refused to enter our cabins, and turned away from food when it was proffered to him. He stretched himself beneath the shade of the cypress tree which hangs over yonder spring, while his followers proceeded to dispose of their merchandise.

"It so happened that four or five Indians, belonging to a tribe inhabiting a tract of country somewhat lower down the river, were in the village at the same time. They had made their sales and purchases, and were about to depart as Tangoras and his people appeared. They soon mingled together, and a low, gutteral conversation ensued. From the violence of their gesticulations, we concluded that the subject was of deep interest. A tall, handsome savage of about five-and-twenty years of age, active and athletic, kept aloof from the crowd, and appeared to be the subject of conversation, from the ferocious glances cast at him by the tribe of Tangoras. He was evidently uneasy, and as he slowly receded, as if intending to leave the village, he kept his dark eye lowering suspiciously upon the crowd. He had already passed the furthermöst house, and had drawn nigh to the spot where Tangoras was reclining, too much wrapped in his own reflections to attend to what was going forward. The sound of footsteps awakened his attention;

he slowly turned his Herculean frame, and appearing to recognise the young savage, sprang in an instant upon his feet. A fierce yell succeeded, which the distant hills re-echoed, and the next instant we beheld the stranger flying like the affrighted deer from the famished wolf, towards the mountains. Tangoras followed close behind. They crossed the plain with the rapidity of an arrow from a bow; and at intervals the fiend-like yell of the old chief startled the eagle as he enjoyed his circling flight in the upper air.

"In crossing the plain, the youthful activity of the fugitive Indian enabled him to exceed the speed of his pursuer, but in ascending the opposite ridge, it was evident that he was losing ground sensibly. A shout of triumph which the evening breeze carried from mountain to mountain, proclaimed that Tangoras was aware of his advantage. The rest of the savages watched the chase with intense interest, and preserved a dead silence.~ They scarcely breathed, as they leaned forward with their eyes fixed upon the parties ascending the rugged and winding path. The young Indian now stood upon a bare rock on the brow of the ridge. He paused for a moment to breathe. The motion of his body did not escape us as he drew a deep inspiration. He cast a look downwards upon his pursuer, who followed close after him it was but a momentary glance, and the young man disappeared on the opposite side of the mountain. Tangoras sprang upon the rock, sent forth a yell, and

the next moment was out of sight also.

He did not

pause to breathe, nor did he slacken his pace as he ascended the ridge; he could have kept on from the rising to the setting of the sun, without fatigue, or without abating his speed; for he united with the strength of the rugged bear the activity of the deer; nor did he fear to wrestle with the one without a weapon, or to hunt down the other without a dog to keep him on the trail.

They were no sooner out of sight than the savages in the village started in pursuit of them.

As they sprang over the plain, they yelled and leaped like a herd of famished wolves on the scent of their prey. It was, indeed, a wild sight to behold them rushing along the narrow path over the mountain.

"The fugitive pursued his course down the western declivity with increased swiftness. It was the race of a maniac. He leaped from rock to rock at the hazard of his life, and had gained considerably upon Tangoras, who followed with his eye fixed upon his victim, and without slackening his speed. At intervals he sent forth the piercing war-whoop, and the fearful sound increased the speed of the fugitive.

"At the base of the mountain runs a river, deep and rapid. The fugitive came rushing down the path with the ungoverned velocity of a thing inanimate. He reached the green bank of the stream, and without pausing, sprang into its waves. The current bore him

rapidly along, and the cool water refreshed his burning

body. He had not swum many yards when Tangoras stood upon the bank, and immediately with a heavy plunge dashed into the river; he beat aside the waves with his sinewy arms; his head was elevated, and his broad chest parted the water, even as the prow of a vessel. He glided upon the surface as though he had been a creature of the element, and the small waves leaped about his brawny neck in playful wantonness. By this time the rest of the savages appeared on the brow of the mountain, and they rushed down the rugged path, like fiends at their sport, leaping from crag to crag, as reckless of danger as though they had been immortal. As they threw their reeking bodies into the water, the fugitive was about ascending the bank on the opposite side. Tangoras was close behind him, for he had gained upon him considerably in the passage of the river. The race was now resumed. The fugitive darted off with renewed vigour, and the old chief followed at a steady pace across the verdant plain, through which the river pursues

its way.

"The Indian once more outstripped his pursuer, but as they entered upon the high lands his speed diminished. The old chieftain perceived it, and as he kept on his course, sent forth the war-whoop of his tribe, as if in derision. The race continued over ridges and plains, and through streams, until they arrived at the foot of the next spur of the mountain. As they entered upon the steep ascent, the pursued strained every nerve

to keep up his speed, while Tangoras followed with as much ease in his motions, as if it had been but a race of amusement.

"The fugitive now deviated from the narrow path, and entered upon the most rugged and dangerous ground, in hopes that his pursuer, through fatigue, would desist from the chase; but the hope was vain, for he still followed with the same fixedness of purpose as at the outset. They soon found themselves in the depth of the wilderness. Higher and higher they clambered up, in silence, assisting their ascent by clinging to stunted shrubs and jutting pieces of rock. The other savages followed at a distance, yelling like fiends, and were guided by the echoes occasioned by the fragments of rocks, which yielding to the tread, rolled down the side of the mountain. The young Indian had been hunted to desperation when an ascent almost inaccessible presented itself. He braced every nerve, and leaping up, seized hold of a branch of a tree that grew from the declivity. Fortunately it sustained his weight, and he drew himself beyond the obstruction. He sprang from the tree to a jutting rock, which yielded beneath the pressure, and as he felt it moving, he threw himself forward flat upon the earth, as his only means of preservation. The stone rolled from under him down the mountain, and a fearful yell was mingled with the crashing that it made in its passage. He turned, and beheld Tangoras prostrate on the ground. A second look disclosed that he was