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DEATIL OF DANFORTH, 29,
A faint, sad smile flitted over the dying hunter’s fice, and her
voice was choked with pain which was not death. ‘ My poor gitl,’’
he saig, feebly drawing her kindling: face to his lips, ‘* there is no
great hunting-ground as you dream. The whites have another faith,
and—O God! Ihave taken away her trust, and have none to give
in return ! >? . ; ;
The Indian’s face drooped forward, the light of her wild, poetic:
faith had departed with the hunter’s last words, and a feeling of. cold
desolation settled on’ her heart. He was dying on her bosom, and~
she knew not where he was going, nor that their parting might not
be eternal. : . ;
‘The dying man’s lips moved asif in prayer, ‘* Forgive me, O
’ Father of mercies! forgive me that I have left this poor girl in her
heathen ignorance,’? he murmured, faintly, and his lips continued to
move though there was ro perceptible sound. . After a few moments
of exhaustion, he fixed his eyes on the Indian girl’s face with a look
of solemn and touching earnestness. pe
. Malaeska,’’ he said, ** talk not of putting yourself and the boy
to death. ‘hat would be a sin, and God would punish it. ‘l’o meet
me in another world, Malaeska, you must learn to love the white
man’s God, and wait patiently till he shall send you to me. Go not
back to your tribe when Iam dead. Down atthe mouth of the
great river are many whites; among themare my father and mother.
Find your way to them, tell them how their son died, and bescech
them to cherish you and the boy for his sake. ‘ell them how much
he loved you, my poor girl. Tell them —Tcan not. talk more.
There is a girl at the settlement,-one Martha Feliows; go to her.
She knows of you, and has papers — aletter to my father. I did not
~ expect this, but had prepared for it. Goto her—you will do this
— promise, while I can understand.’’
Malaeska had not wept till now, but her voice was choked, and
‘tears fell like rain over the dying man’s face as she made the prom-
ise. .
~ He tried to thank her, but the effort died away in a faint smile and
% tremulous motion-of the white lips — ‘* Kiss me, Malaeska.”’
_ The request was faint as a breath of air, but Malacska heard it.
‘She flung herself on his bosom with a passionate burst of git and
her lips clung to his asif they would have drawn him back from the
very grave. She felt the cold lips moving beneath the despairing
pressure of hers, and lifted her head.
**'the boy, Malacska; let me look on my son.’?
The child had crept to his mother’s side, and crouching on bis
hands and knees, sat with his large black eyes filled with a strange
. awe, gazing on the white face of his father. Malaeska drew him
Closer, and with instinctive feclings he wound his arms round the
neck, and. nestled his face close to the ashy cheek of the dying man.
There was a faint motion of the hands as if the father would have
embraced his child, and then all wes still, After a time, the child