"And Susan, where is she?"
"By and by. (Meaning that she was coming.) Gone to fetch water - ice
thick - chop with axe - take long time."
As she ceased speaking, the old blanket that formed the door of the
tent was withdrawn, and the girl, bearing two pails of water, stood
in the open space, in the white moonlight. The glow of the fire
streamed upon her dark, floating locks, danced in the black,
glistening eye, and gave a deeper blush to the olive cheek! She
would have made a beautiful picture; Sir Joshua Reynolds would have
rejoiced in such a model - so simply graceful and unaffected, the
very beau ideal of savage life and unadorned nature. A smile of
recognition passed between us. She put down her burden beside Mrs.
Tom, and noiselessly glided to her seat.
We had scarcely exchanged a few words with our favourite, when the
old squaw, placing her hand against her ear, exclaimed, "Whist!
whist!"
"What is it?" cried Emilia and I, starting to our feet. "Is there
any danger?"
"A deer - a deer - in bush!" whispered the squaw, seizing a rifle that
stood in a corner. "I hear sticks crack - a great way off. Stay
here!"
A great way off the animal must have been, for though Emilia and
I listened at the open door, an advantage which the squaw did not
enjoy, we could not hear the least sound: all seemed still as death.
The squaw whistled to an old hound, and went out.
