Going softly up behind, he hit the semi-naked savage a sounding slap, and exclaimed, as he passed on, "Hallo! Jackolu; important business, my boy--hurrah!" The native to whom this rough salutation was given was a tall, stalwart young fellow, who had for some years been one of the best-behaved and most active members of Frederick Mason's dark-skinned congregation.

He stood erect for some time, with a broad grin on his swarthy face and a twinkle in his eye, as he gazed after the young hopeful, muttering to himself, "Ho! yes--bery wicked boy dat, bery; but hims capital chap, for all dat." A few minutes later, Master Corrie burst in upon the sturdy middle-aged merchant, named Ole Thorwald, a Norwegian, who had resided much in England, and spoke the English language well, and who prided himself on being entitled to claim descent from the old Norwegian sea-kings.

This man was uncle and protector to Corrie.
"Ho! Uncle Ole; here's a business.

Sich a to-do--wounds, blood, and murder! or at least an attempt at it;--the whole settlement in arms, and the parson sends for you to take command!" "What means the boy!" exclaimed Ole Thorwald, who, in virtue of his having once been a private in a regiment of militia, had been appointed to the chief command of the military department of the settlement.

This consisted of about thirty white men, armed with fourteen fowling-pieces, twenty daggers, fifteen swords, and eight cavalry pistols; and about two hundred native Christians, who, when the assaults of their unconverted brethren were made, armed themselves--as they were wont to do in days gone by--with formidable clubs, stone hatchets, and spears.