It was long past noon: the sun shone, but as through a veil, a soft October haze mellowing the brightness of the beautiful woods where a solitary figure, that of a tall Indian, was following the trail with long, rapid strides.

It was the Shawnee chief Wawillaway; not on the war path, for though armed as usual with gun, tomahawk and scalping knife, no war club was in his hand, no paint on his face.

He had been on a peaceful errand to Old Town, to dispose of his baskets, game and peltries, and was now quietly wending his homeward way.

No report of Herrod's death, and the consequent excitement and alarm among the settlers in the Scioto valley, had reached Wawillaway, and when he saw three white men, Wolf and two men whom he had hired to assist him on his farm, coming toward him, no thought of hostile intention on their part or his own was in his heart.

They met him in the trail and he shook hands cordially with them, inquiring about their health and that of their families.

A little talk followed and Wolf proposed to the chief to exchange guns, took Wawillaway's on a pretence of examining it with a view to purchase, slyly blew out the priming, and handing it back, said he did not care to swap.

Wawillaway had seen his treacherous act, but still unsuspicious, took his own gun handing back the other.

"Have the Indians begun war?" asked one of Wolf's companions.

"No, no," said the chief, "the Indians and white men are all one; all brothers now."

"Why, haven't you heard that the Indians have killed Captain Herrod?" asked Wolf.

Wawillaway looked astonished, and incredulous.

"No, no! Indian not kill Captain Herrod," he said. "Captain Herrod not dead?"

"Yes, he is; it's certain that he was found dead and scalped in the woods a few days ago," said Wolf.

"Maybe fire water; too much drink make fight."

"No, Herrod hadn't any quarrel with the Indians; and we don't know which of them killed him."

"Maybe some bad white man killed Captain Herrod," suggested Wawillaway; then shaking hands all round again, he turned to go on his way, when the dastardly Wolf shot him in the back, mortally wounding him.

The brave chieftain, wounded as he was, and deprived of the use of his gun, turned upon his cowardly assailants with his tomahawk, and spite of the superiority of numbers, killed one, and severely wounded Wolf and the others.

A distant sound of horses' hoofs sent them flying into the woods, leaving the lifeless body of their comrade, and the bleeding, dying chief lying in the trail.

Nearer and nearer came the sounds, and in another moment two farmers returning from Chillicothe to their homes, had come to a sudden halt beside the prostrate forms and were gazing with grief, horror and dismay upon the bloody scene. "It's Wawillaway!" cried one, hastily dismounting and stooping over the chief. "Who can have done this cruel, wicked deed, for he has always been the white man's friend! Ah, he's not dead, thank God! Come, Miller, help me to raise him up."

They did so as gently as possible, but life was ebbing fast; they saw it in his glazing eye and the clammy sweat upon his brow.

Another horseman came galloping up and drew rein close at hand, then leaping to the ground came hurriedly toward the little group.

"Dr. Clendenin," cried Miller, "you have come in the nick of time!"

"No," sighed Kenneth, taking the cold hand of the chief, "he is beyond human help. Wawillaway, my poor friend, whose fiendish work is this?"

With a great effort the chief rallied his expiring energies sufficiently to tell in a few broken sentences, of Wolf's perfidious and cruel deed, then gasped and died.

"He is gone," Kenneth said in a voice tremulous and husky with emotion, "and this foul deed of a blood-thirsty, conscienceless wretch, will in all probability be visited upon our infant settlements in a tempest of fire and blood."

"Wolf! the scoundrel is rightly named," muttered Miller between his clenched teeth. "Andrews," to his comrade, "we should be scouring the woods in search of him at this moment. If we could catch and deliver him up to justice, it might go far toward averting the threatened storm."

"Yes, and there's no time to be lost; but the first thing is to hurry home and secure the safety of our families." "The alarm should be given at once in Chillicothe," said Kenneth, hastily mounting as he spoke; "that shall be my task, and doubtless a party will be sent out at once in search of this cowardly villain, Wolf."

In another moment all three had left the scene of blood and death, and were galloping furiously through the woods; the farmers toward their homes, Kenneth in the direction of the town.

The sun had set some time before, it was already growing dark, and when he reached Chillicothe many of the people had retired for the night.

Coming in at the end of the town farthest from Major Lamar's house, and stopping to call up and consult with several of the other influential citizens, whose dwellings lay between, he was late in reaching it.

Nell was roused from her first nap by a loud knocking on the outer door, and a familiar voice calling, "Major!"

She sprang to the window and opened it.

"What is it, doctor?" she asked, her voice trembling a little with excitement and alarm in spite of herself.

"I am very sorry to disturb you," he answered, something in his low, earnest tones sending a strange thrill through her whole being, "but there is not an instant to be lost. Dear Miss Nell, rouse the household and dress yourself with all haste, not forgetting a shawl and bonnet, for the night air is chill in—"

The door opened at that moment and the major's voice was heard.

"What's wrong? Ah, is it you, doctor?"

"Yes, major, Wawillaway lies dead out yonder on the trail to Old Town, slain treacherously in cold blood, by that scoundrel Wolf, and of course we may expect an attack from the Indians as soon as they can get here after the news reaches them. It has been decided that the women and children shall be collected in Ferguson's house; that being the largest in town. Can I be of any assistance in getting yours there?"

"No, no, thank you. I'll have them there directly, and you will be wanting to warn others."

The doctor rode rapidly away, while the major shut the door and called to his wife and children.

"Up! dress yourself as fast as you can! Nell!"

"Yes," she answered. "I'll be there in a moment."

She had heard all and was hurrying on her clothes with trembling fingers, the tears rolling down her cheeks.

"O Wawillaway, Wawillaway, you have died for me!" she sobbed. "O that cruel, cruel wretch! worse than the wild beast that shares his name!"

Sounds of commotion came from below, the little ones crying, Clare calling in frightened tones, "Nell, Nell, do come help with the children, if you can! I shall never get them dressed." The servants added their terrified clamor, as they rushed hither and thither in obedience to the orders of master or mistress, collecting such articles of value or necessity as could be thought of and found in the hurry and alarm of the moment.

The major alone preserved his calmness and presence of mind, and thus was able to control and direct the others.

At Clare's call Nell dashed away her tears, snatched up hat and shawl and ran down-stairs.

"Dressed!" said Clare. "You've been very quick. Now help with the children. They're too frightened or too sleepy to get into their clothes, and Maria's so scared she's of no use whatever." "Calm yourselves, wife and sister," said the major, coming from an adjoining room. "We must put our trust in God, who we know will not suffer any real evil to befall His people; and the Indians can hardly reach the town under an hour or two at the very earliest."

His words and the quiet composure with which they were uttered had a soothing effect upon the ladies, calming their agitation and reviving their courage.

In a very short time the whole family were in the street rapidly winding their way to Mr. Ferguson's, toward which terrified women and children were now hurrying from every quarter.

The town was thoroughly awake; lights gleamed in all the houses, and every possible preparation was being made to receive and repel the expected attack. Sentinels were posted, and an old man who had served as drummer in the Revolutionary war was appointed to give the signal, the roll of the drum, should the enemy be seen approaching.

As the major and his family neared the place of rendezvous, they fell in with Captain Bernard and Lyttleton, who followed them into the house inquiring if there were anything they could do to make the ladies more comfortable.

As the light of a candle burning in the hall fell on Nell's face, Lyttleton saw the traces of tears on her cheeks and bright drops still shining in her eyes.

"Do not be too greatly alarmed; doubtless we shall succeed in keeping the savages at bay," he whispered protectingly. "I have a brace of pistols here, and you may rest assured will make your safety my special charge."

"I am not afraid," she said, drawing herself up slightly, while the color deepened on her cheek—"no, I believe I am; but it is not that that causes my tears;" and they burst forth afresh as she spoke.

"What then?" he asked in surprise.

"I weep for my friend, my poor murdered friend, lying stiff and stark yonder in the woods," and the tears fell like rain.

"What, the Indian!" he exclaimed in utter amazement.

"Yes, for Wawillaway. Did he not save my life? Yes, twice he has rescued me from a wild beast, first a panther, then a Wolf," she said with a shudder.

"Aunt Nell, Aunt Nell, I so sleepy, I so tired," sobbed little Bertie, her three year old nephew and especial pet; "please sit down and take me in your lap."

She had the child by the hand; the crowd was pushing them on; was between them and the rest of the family, and now separated her from Lyttleton.

"Oh, here you are! come this way," the major said, appearing in an open doorway at the end of the hall; and snatching up Bertie, he hurried back into the large living room, Nell following.

Tig had brought a great armful of buffalo robes, deer and bearskins, of which he was making a very comfortable couch in one corner, under the direction of his mistress.

Clare soon had the children laid upon it, and snugly covered up with shawls. She then sat down beside them with her babe in her arms.

"Can't you lie down too, Nell?" she said. "There's room enough, and you'd better sleep while you can."

"That is not now," Nell answered with a sigh, "but I will sit down here beside Bertie."

She seated herself on the farther side from Clare, where her face was in shadow, and little Bertie laid his head in her lap.

She bent over him, softly stroking his hair and dropping silent tears upon it. She could not forget Wawillaway.

The room; the house; was full of terrified women and children—many of the latter crying violently from discomfort and fright, while the tearful, trembling mothers vainly strove to soothe and comfort them.

Mrs. Barbour, occupying a distant part of the same room with the Lamars, paid small attention to hers; being too much taken up with her own feelings, too busy bewailing her hard fate, somehow much more to be commiserated than that of any other person present, and now and then going off into a violent fit of hysterics.

Mrs. Nash was there, quiet, patient, cheerful, doing the best to allay her sister-in-law's excitement and alarm, and that of her own and her brother's children; nor were her kind ministrations entirely confined to them; she contrived to speak words of hope and cheer to others also.

The room was dimly lighted by a candle burning on a table which had been pushed into a corner to be out of the way of the numerous beds spread upon the floor.

Mrs. Hedwig placed her two younger children under this table, bidding them "Go to shleep and nefer fear dose Inguns; your mutter vil pe right here and take care off you;" then getting possession of a chair, she sat down close beside them, drew the candle near her, snuffed it carefully, opened a bundle she had brought with her, and began sewing most industriously.

"How can you, Mrs. Hedwig?" cried Mrs. Barbour: "you're the most cold-blooded creature I ever saw!"

"Dish ish flannel to keeps mine childer warm; mine childer must haf dese flannel tings to wear in de woods mit de Inguns," explained the German woman, dashing away a tear. "But I hopes dose Inguns nefer gets here to shteal mine leetle dears."

"If they do come, they'll kill a good many more than they steal," sobbed another woman. "Oh, dear, oh, dear! if our men only had plenty of ammunition it wouldn't seem half so bad!"

"Do stop such doleful talk, all of you," said Mrs. Nash. "You'll frighten the poor children to death."

"Where are the men? what's become of my Tom?" fretted Mrs. Barbour.

"The men are doing their duty," answered Mrs. Nash; "some are guarding this house, some posted as sentinels on the outskirts of the town, others collecting bows and arrows, clubs, knives, tomahawks, anything they can fight with, or putting their valuables in some place of safety."

"And they have sent out a party in search of Wolf," added Mrs. Lamar. "I heard the major and Captain Bernard speaking of it; and if they can catch the wretch they will hang him, or give him up to the Indians and let them wreak their vengeance on him, as in justice they should, instead of on the innocent."

"Let us trust in the Lord and try to sleep," said a pious old lady who had laid herself calmly down beside her grandchildren. "We need rest to strengthen us for the morrow's duties and trials; most of us profess to be Christians, and why should we not be able to feel that we are safe in our Father's hands?

A silence fell upon the room as the sweet old voice ceased, even Mrs. Barbour being shamed into momentary quiet.

Clare laid her babe down, stretched herself beside it and the older children, and her regular breathing soon told that she slept.

But Nell still sat with Bertie's head in her lap, her face hidden in her hands, while tears trickled between the white slender fingers, for her thoughts had gone back to her murdered friend.

"I shall never see him again in this world," she was saying to herself, "and oh, shall I meet him in another? Why, why did I never speak to him of Jesus? Now it is too late, too late!"

Some one sat down beside her and a voice said in low, rich tones, "I will not be afraid of ten thousands of people, that have set themselves against me round about! Dear Miss Nell, some trust in chariots and some in horses; but we will remember the name of the Lord our God."

"Thank you," she said, uncovering her face and hastily wiping away her tears, "but oh, it is not that, not fear of the Indians," she sobbed, the tears bursting forth afresh. "Dr. Clendenin, you have not forgotten what I owe to Wawillaway, and you know but the half!"

"I know that he saved you from the panther," he said with a look of surprise.

"Yes; and from I know not what at the hands of this very ruffian, Wolf." And in a brief sentence or two she told of her danger and her escape, adding with a low cry of pain, "And oh, I fear that it was in revenge for this that poor Wawillaway was slain. He has died for me!"

Kenneth was much moved, indignation against Wolf, gratitude for the fair girl's rescue, admiration of the brave chieftain, grief for his sad end, contending for the mastery in his breast.

"The wretch!" he said, "he is not worthy to live! He has killed a better man than himself. I too, grieve for Wawillaway. But, Miss Nell, you are looking sorely in need of rest; as your physician I prescribe a few hours of sleep."

He gently lifted the curly head from her lap to the couch, and bade her lie down beside the child.

"The major is with the party who are in pursuit of the assassin, and has left you and the rest of the family in my care; so that his authority is vested in me for to-night, in addition to that which I may lawfully claim as medical adviser," he said with one of his rare sweet smiles, "so do not venture to disobey my order, fair lady, and," he added in a still lower whisper, "let me give you this for a pillow to rest your weary head upon: 'I will both lay me down in peace and sleep: for thou, Lord, only makest me dwell in safety.'"