"Cold and forsaken, destitute of friends, And all good comforts else, unless some tree Whose speechless chanty doth better ours, With which the bitter east-winds made their sport And sang through hourly, hath invited thee To shelter half a day.

Shall she be thus, And I draw in soft slumbers ?" BRAUMONT AND FLETCHER.
It was near sunset before Hector and his cousin returned on the evening of the eventful day that had found Catharine a prisoner on Long Island.
They had met with good success in hunting, and brought home a fine half-grown fawn, fat and in good order.

They were surprised at finding the fire nearly extinguished, and no Catharine awaiting their return.
There, it is true, was the food that she had prepared for them, but she was not to be seen; supposing that she had been tired of waiting for them, and had gone out to gather strawberries, they did not at first feel very anxious, but ate some of the rice and honey, for they were hungry with long fasting; and taking some Indian meal cake in their hands, they went out to call her in, but no trace of her was visible.
They now became alarmed, fearing that she had set off by herself to seek them, and had missed her way home again.
They hurried back to the happy valley--she was not there; to Pine-tree Point--no trace of her there; to the edge of the mount that overlooked the lake--no, she was not to be seen; night found them still unsuccessful in their search.

Sometimes they fancied that she had seated herself beneath some tree and fallen asleep; but no one imagined the true cause, having seen nothing of the Indians.
Again they retraced their steps back to the house; but they found her not there.

They continued their unavailing search till the moon setting left them in darkness, and they laid down to rest, but not to sleep.