once more upon the face of my little sister; and see—I have brought something to show her."
Turning, even while he spoke, toward the little boat, which was rocking on the water's brim, Pashemet uttered a low, sweet cry, resembling the note of the wood-pigeon, and in quick obedience to his summons, from among the gaudy blankets and glossy furs, which were heaped in gay confusion in one end of the boat, arose a dusky but beautiful young Indian woman. Tall, straight, and supple as a young forest tree, she leaped lightly on shore, and stepping with the free grace of a gazelle to his side, she glided with quiet motion just before him, resting her slight form against his shoulder, and, folding her arms, stood in an attitude of shy yet proud repose; her great, eloquent black eyes, bright as diamonds, stealing quick furtive glances of curiosity and admiration from beneath their drooping, long-lashed lids at the fair young daughter of the pale faces.
"Behold, my sister!" Pashemet said, in a voice of inexpressible tenderness, as he took
