Chapter 18

"Thus died she; never more on her
Shall sorrow light, or shame. She was not made
Through years or moons the inner weight to bear,
Which colder hearts endure till they are laid
By age in earth; her days and pleasure were
Brief but delightful - such as had not stayed
Long with her destiny; but she sleeps well
By the sea-shore whereon she loved to dwell."

Byron. Don Juan, IV, lxxi.

The young men who had been sent out to reconnoitre, on the sudden
appearance of Hetty, soon returned to report their want of success
in making any discovery. One of them had even been along the
beach as far as the spot opposite to the ark, but the darkness
had completely concealed that vessel from his notice. Others had
examined in different directions, and everywhere the stillness of
night was added to the silence and solitude of the woods.

It was consequently believed that the girl had come alone, as on
her former visit, and on some similar errand. The Iroquois were
ignorant that the ark had left the castle, and there were movements
projected, if not in the course of actual execution, by this time,
which also greatly added to the sense of security. A watch was
set, therefore, and all but the sentinels disposed themselves to
sleep. Sufficient care was had to the safe keeping of the captive,
without inflicting on him any unnecessary suffering; and, as for
Hetty, she was permitted to find a place among the Indian girls in
the best manner she could. She did not find the friendly offices
of Hist, though her character not only bestowed impunity from
pain and captivity, but it procured for her a consideration and
an attention that placed her, on the score of comfort, quite on a
level with the wild but gentle beings around her. She was supplied
with a skin, and made her own bed on a pile of boughs a little
apart from the huts. Here she was soon in a profound sleep, like
all around her.

There were now thirteen men in the party, and three kept watch at
a time. One remained in shadow, not far from the fire, however.
His duty was to guard the captive, to take care that the fire
neither blazed up so as to illuminate the spot, nor yet became
wholly extinguished, and to keep an eye generally on the state of
the camp. Another passed from one beach to the other, crossing
the base of the point, while the third kept moving slowly around
the strand on its outer extremity, to prevent a repetition of the
surprise that had already taken place that night. This arrangement
was far from being usual among savages, who ordinarily rely more on
the secrecy of their movements, than or vigilance of this nature;
but it had been called for by the peculiarity of the circumstances
in which the Hurons were now