In that hour, at that very moment, his beloved wife, his delicate daughter, his fair sister, or sweetheart, may be struggling in the embrace of a brawny savage.

No wonder that to them every hour seems a day, every minute an hour.
Though with a different motive, not much less impatient are their associates in the pursuit--the Rangers.

It chances to be a company especially rabid for defence against the incursions of the Tenawa tribe; and more than once baffled by these cunning red-skins, they are anxious to make up for past disappointment.

Twice before have they followed the retreating trail of these same savages, on both occasions returning foiled and empty-handed.

And, now that they are again on it, with surer signs to guide them, the young men of the corps are mad to come up with the red marauders, while the elder ones are almost equally excited.
Both resemble hounds in a hunt where the scent is hot--the young dogs dashing forward without check, the old ones alike eager, but moving with more circumspection.
Between them and the settlers there is the same earnestness of purpose, though stimulated by resentment altogether different.