Chapter 23 - Page 2

fancied
that the jaw had been depressed, as if to distort the mouth into
a sort of horrible laugh.

"June! June!" she exclaimed; "this exceeds all I have ever heard,
or imagined as possible, in the treachery and artifices of your
people."

"Tuscarora very cunning," said June, in a way to show that she
rather approved of than condemned the uses to which the dead bodies
had been applied. "Do soldier no harm now; do Iroquois good; got
the scalp first; now make bodies work. By and by, burn 'em."

This speech told Mabel how far she was separated from her friend in
character; and it was several minutes before she could again address
her. But this temporary aversion was lost on June, who set about
preparing their simple breakfast, in a way to show how insensible
she was to feelings in others which her own habits taught her to
discard. Mabel ate sparingly, and her companion, as if nothing
had happened. Then they had leisure again for their thoughts, and
for further surveys of the island. Our heroine, though devoured
with a feverish desire to be always at the loops, seldom went that
she did not immediately quit them in disgust, though compelled by
her apprehensions to return again in a few minutes, called by the
rustling of leaves, or the sighing of the wind. It was, indeed,
a solemn thing to look out upon that deserted spot, peopled by the
dead in the panoply of the living, and thrown into the attitudes
and acts of careless merriment and rude enjoyment. The effect on
our heroine was much as if she had found herself an observer of
the revelries of demons.

Throughout the livelong day not an Indian nor a Frenchman was to
be seen, and night closed over the frightful but silent masquerade,
with the steady and unalterable progress with which the earth obeys
her laws, indifferent to the petty actors and petty scenes that
are in daily bustle and daily occurrence on her bosom. The night
was far more quiet than that which had preceded it, and Mabel slept
with an increasing confidence; for she now felt satisfied that her
own fate would not be decided until the return of her father. The
following day he was expected, however, and when our heroine awoke,
she ran eagerly to the loops in order to ascertain the state of
the weather and the aspect of the skies, as well as the condition
of the island. There lounged the fearful group on the grass; the
fisherman still hung over the water, seemingly intent on his sport;
and the distorted countenance of Jennie glared from out the hut in
horrible contortions. But the weather had changed; the wind blew
fresh from the southward, and though the air was bland, it was
filled with the elements of storm.

"This