Ella Barnwell

en he felt a strange sensation about his heart--his head grew dizzy--his thoughts seemed confused--the sky appeared suddenly to grow dark, and he believed the icy grasp of death was already settling upon him. At this moment a form--but whether of friend or foe he could not tell--flitted before his uncertain vision; and then all became darkness and nonentity. He had swooned.

When the young stranger recovered his senses, after a lapse of some ten minutes, his glance rested on the form of a white hunter, of noble aspect, who was bending over him with a compassionate look; and who, meantime, had opened his dress to the wound and stanched the blood, by covering it with a few pieces of coarse linen, which he had torn into shreds for the purpose, and secured there by means of his belt.

As this latter personage is destined to figure somewhat in the following pages, we shall take this opportunity of describing him as he appeared to our wounded friend.

In height and proportion--but not in age--these two indivi