“Wounded she was, for I drew this arrow from her shoulder,” and he showed the flint head as he spoke, “and fettered; with food and drink in sight, the poor girl was to perish, perhaps to become a living prey to the wolf, and the eagle that I saw wheeling above the hill top. The poor thing’s lips were black and parched with pain and thirst; she turned her eyes piteously from my face to the water jar as if to implore a draught. This I gave her, and then having cooled the festering wound, and cut the thongs that bound her, I wondered that she still kept the same immoveable attitude, and thinking she was stiff and cramped with remaining so long bound in one position, I took her two hands and tried to induce her to move. I then for the first time noticed that she was tied by the hair of her head to the tree against which her back was placed; I was obliged to cut the hair with my knife, and this I did not do without giving her pain, as she moaned impatiently. She sunk her head on her breast, and large tears fell over my hands, as I bathed her face and neck with the water from the jar; she then seated herself on the ground, and remained silent and still for the space of an hour, nor could I prevail upon her to speak, or quit the seat she had taken. Fearing that the Indians might return, I watched in all directions, and at last I began to think it would be best to carry her in my arms; but this I found no easy task, for she seemed greatly distressed at any attempt I made to lift her, and by her gestures I fancy she thought I was going to kill her. At last my patience began to be exhausted, but I did not like to annoy her. I spoke to her as gently and soothingly as I could. By degrees she seemed to listen with more composure to me, though she evidently knew not a word of what I said to her. She rose at last, and taking my hands, placed them above her head, stooping low as she did so, and this seemed to mean, she was willing at last to submit to my wishes; I lifted her from the ground, and carried her for some little way, but she was too heavy for me,--she then suffered me to lead her along whithersoever I would take her, but her steps were so slow and feeble, through weakness, that many times I was compelled to rest while she recovered herself. She seems quite subdued now, and as quiet as a lamb.”