The young hunter could not repress a shout of joy, for he not only had secured a noble stag, but he had now a sufficiency of food to enable him to resume his homeward journey.

His first impulse was to run back to the hut with the deer's tongue and a few choice bits, to tell Nelly of his good fortune; but, on second thoughts, he resolved to complete the business on which he had started. Leaving the deer where it fell he went on, and found that the snares had been very successful. Some, indeed, had been broken by the strength of the boughs to which they had been fastened, and others remained as he had set them; but above two-thirds of them had each a rabbit hung up by the neck, so that the sled was pretty well loaded when all the snares had been visited.

He had by this time approached the spot where the bear-trap was set, and naturally began to grow a little anxious, for, although his chance of success was very slight, his good fortune that morning had made him more sanguine than usual.

There is a proverb which asserts that "it never rains but it pours." It would seem to be a common experience of mankind that pieces of good fortune, as well as misfortunes, come not singly. Whether the proverb be true or no, this experience was realised by Roy on that day, for he actually did find a bear in his trap! Moreover it was alive, and, apparently, had only just been caught, for it struggled to free itself with a degree of ferocity that was terrible to witness.

It was an ordinary black bear of considerable size and immense strength. Heavy and thick though the trees were that lay on its back and crushed it to the earth, it caused them to shake, leap, and quiver as though they had been endowed with life. Roy was greatly alarmed, for he perceived that at each successive struggle the brute was ridding itself of the superincumbent load, while fierce growls and short gasps indicated at once the wrath and the agony by which it was convulsed.

Roy had neglected to reload his piece after shooting the deer—a most un-hunter-like error, which was the result of excitement. Thinking that he had not time to load, he acted now on the first suggestion of his bold spirit. Resting his gun against a tree, he drew the small axe that hung at his belt and attacked the bear.

The first blow was well delivered, and sank deep into bruin's skull; but that skull was thick, and the brain was not reached. A roar and a furious struggle caused Roy to deliver his second blow with less effect, but this partial failure caused his pugnacity to rise, and he immediately rained down blows on the head and neck of the bear so fast and furious that the snow was speedily covered with blood. In proportion as Roy strove to end the conflict by vigorous and quick blows, the bear tried to get free by furious efforts. He shook the tree-stem that held him down so violently that one of the other trees that rested on it fell off, and thus the load was lightened. Roy observed this, and made a desperate effort to split the bear's skull. In his haste he misdirected the blow, which fell not on the head but on the neck, in which the iron head of the axe was instantly buried—a main artery was severed, and a fountain of blood sprang forth. This was fortunate, for the bear's strength was quickly exhausted, and, in less than two minutes after, it sank dead upon the snow.

Roy sat down to rest and wipe the blood from his hands and garments, and then, cutting off the claws of the animal as a trophy, he left it there for a time. Having now far more than it was possible for him to drag to the hut, he resolved to proceed thither with the rabbits, and bring Nelly back to help him to drag home the deer.

"Well done, Roy," cried Nelly, clapping her hands, when her brother approached with the sled-load of rabbits, "but you are covered with blood. Have you cut yourself?"

She became nervously anxious, for she well knew that a bad cut on a journey costs many a man his life, as it not only disables from continuing the journey but from hunting for provisions.

"All right, Nell, but I've killed a deer—and—and—something else! Come, lass, get on your snow-shoes and follow me. We'll drag home the deer, and then see what is to be done with the—"

"Oh, what is it? do tell!" cried Nell, eagerly.

"Well, then, it's a bear!"

"Nonsense!—tell me true, now."

"That's the truth, Nell, as you shall see, and here are the claws. Look sharp, now, and let's off."

Away went these two through the snow, until they came to where the deer had been left. It was hard work to get it lashed on the sled, and much harder work to drag it over the snow, but by dint of perseverance and resolution they got it home. They were so fatigued, however, that it was impossible to think of doing the same with the bear. This was a perplexing state of things, for Roy had observed a wolf-track when out, and feared that nothing but the bones would be left in the morning.

"What is to be done?" said Nelly, with that pretty air of utter helplessness which she was wont to assume when she felt that her brother was the proper person to decide.

Roy pondered a few moments, and then said abruptly, "Camp-out, Nelly."

"Camp-out?"

"Ay, beside the bear—keep it company all night with a big fire to scare away the wolves. We'll put everything into the hut, block up the door, and kindle a huge fire outside that will burn nearly all night. So now, let's go about it at once."

Although Nelly did not much relish the idea of leaving their comfortable hut, and going out to encamp in the snow beside the carcase of a dead bear, she was so accustomed to regard her brother's plans as perfect, and to obey him promptly, that she at once began to assist in the necessary preparations. Having secured everything safely in the hut, and kindled a fire near it, which was large enough to have roasted an ox, they set off for the bear-trap, and reached it in time to scare away a large wolf which was just going to begin his supper on bruin.

An encampment was then made in the usual way, close to the bear-trap, a fire as large as could be conveniently made was kindled, and the brother and sister wrapped themselves in their blankets and lay comfortably down beside it to spend the night there.



CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

"SHOOSKIN'."

Next day Roy and Nelly rose with the sun, and spent the forenoon in skinning and cutting up the bear, for they intended to dry part of the meat, and use it on their journey. The afternoon was spent in dragging the various parts to the hut. In the evening Roy proposed that they should go and have a shoosk. Nelly agreed, so they sallied forth to a neighbouring slope with their sledge.

Shoosking, good reader, is a game which is played not only by children but by men and women; it is also played in various parts of the world, such as Canada and Russia, and goes by various names; but we shall adopt the name used by our hero and heroine, namely "shoosking." It is very simple, but uncommonly violent, and consists in hauling a sledge to the top of a snow-hill or slope, getting upon it, and sliding down to the bottom. Of course, the extent of violence depends on the steepness of the slope, the interruptions that occur in it, and the nature of the ground at the bottom. We once shoosked with an Indian down a wood-cutter's track, on the side of a steep hill, which had a sharp turn in it, with a pile of firewood at the turn, and a hole in the snow at the bottom, in which were a number of old empty casks. Our great difficulties in this place were to take the turn without grazing the firewood, and to stop our sledges before reaching the hole. We each had separate sledges. For some time we got on famously, but at last we ran into the pile of firewood, and tore all the buttons off our coat, and the Indian went down into the hole with a hideous crash among the empty casks; yet, strange to say, neither of us came by any serious damage!

"There's a splendid slope," said Roy, as they walked briskly along the shores of Silver Lake, dragging the sledge after them, "just beyond the big cliff, but I'm afraid it's too much for you."

"Oh, I can go if you can," said Nell, promptly.

"You've a good opinion of yourself. I guess I could make you sing small if I were to try."

"Then don't try," said Nelly, with a laugh.

"See," continued Roy, "there's the slope; you see it is very steep; we'd go down it like a streak of greased lightnin'; but I don't like to try it."

"Why not? It seems easy enough to me. I'm sure we have gone down as steep places before at home."

"Ay, lass, but not with a round-backed drift like that at the bottom. It has got such a curve that I think it would make us fly right up into the air."

Nelly admitted that it looked dangerous, but suggested that they might make a trial.

"Well, so we will, but I'll go down by myself first," said Roy, arranging the sledge at the summit of a slope, which was full fifty feet high.

"Now, then, pick up the bits tenderly, Nell, if I'm knocked to pieces; here goes, hurrah!"

Roy had seated himself on the sledge, with his feet resting on the head of it, and holding on to the side-lines with both hands firmly. He pushed off as he cheered, and the next moment was flying down the hill at railway speed, with a cloud of snow-drift rolling like steam behind him. He reached the foot, and the impetus sent him up and over the snow-drift or wave, and far out upon the surface of the lake. It is true he made one or two violent swerves in this wild descent, owing to inequalities in the hill, but by a touch of his hands in the snow on either side, he guided the sledge, as with a rudder, and reached the foot in safety.

"May I venture, Roy?" inquired Nell, eagerly, as the lad came panting up the hill.

"Venture! Of course. I rose off the top o' the drift only a little bit, hardly felt the crack at all; come, get you on in front, and I'll sit at yer back an' steer."

Nelly needed no second bidding. She sat down and seized the side-lines of the sledge, with a look of what we may call wild expectation; Roy sat down behind her.

"Now, lass, steady, and away we go!"

At the last word they shot from the hill-top like an arrow from a bow. The cloud of snow behind them rolled thicker, for the sledge was more heavily laden than before. Owing to the same cause it plunged into the hollow at the foot of the hill with greater violence, and shot up the slope of the snow-drift and over its crest with such force that it sprung horizontally forward for a few feet in the air, and came to the ground with a crash that extracted a loud gasp from Roy, and a sharp squeak from Nelly. It was found to be so delightful, however, that they tried it again and again, each time becoming more expert, and therefore more confident.

Excessive confidence, however, frequently engenders carelessness. Roy soon became reckless; Nelly waxed fearless. The result was that the former steered somewhat wildly, and finally upset.

Their last "shoosk" that evening was undertaken just as the sun's latest rays were shooting between the hills on the opposite side of Silver Lake, and casting a crimson glow on the hut and the surrounding scenery. Roy had fixed a snow-shoe on the outer ridge of the snow-drift, to mark the distance of their last leap from its crest, and had given the sledge an extra push on the way down to increase its impetus. This extra push disconcerted him in steering; he reached the hollow in a side-long fashion, shot up the slope of the drift waveringly, and left its crest with a swing that not only turned the sledge right round, but also upside down. Of course they were both thrown off, and all three fell into the snow in a condition of dire confusion. Fortunately, no damage was done beyond the shock and the fright, but this accident was sufficient to calm their spirits, and incline them to go home to supper.

"Well, it's great fun, no doubt, but we must turn our minds to more earnest work, for our journey lies before us," said Roy, with the gravity of an Iroquois warrior, as he sat beside the fire that night discussing a bear-steak with his sister. "We have more than enough of fish and meat, you see; a day or two will do to turn our deer and bear into dried meat; the snow-shoes are mended, the sledge is in good order, as to-night's work has proved, and all that we've got to do is to start fresh with true bearin's and—hey! for home!"

"I wish I was there," said Nelly, laying down a marrow-bone with a sigh.

"Wishin' ain't enough, Nell."

"I know that, an' I'm ready to work," said Nelly, resuming the bone with a resolute air. "When shall we set out?"

"When we are ready, lass. We shall begin to dry the meat to-morrow, an' as soon as it's fixed—off we'll start. I only hope the cold weather will last, for if it came warm it would go hard with your little feet, Nell. But let's turn in now. Hard work requires a good sleep, an' it may be that we've harder work than we think before us."



CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

THE JOURNEY HOME RESUMED AND INTERRUPTED.

Three days more and our young friends bade farewell to Silver Lake.

Short though their stay had been, it had proved very pleasant, for it was full of energetic labour and active preparation, besides a great deal of amusement, so that quite a home feeling had been aroused in their minds, and their regret at leaving was considerable.

But after the first few miles of their journey had been accomplished, the feeling of sadness with which they set out wore away, and hopeful anticipations of being home again in a few weeks rendered them cheerful, and enabled them to proceed with vigour. The weather at starting was fine, too, so that the night encampments in the snow were comparatively agreeable, and the progress made during the first few days was satisfactory.

After this, however, the good fortune of our adventurers seemed to desert them. First of all one of Nelly's snow-shoes broke down. This necessitated a halt of half a day, in order to have it repaired. Then one of Roy's snow-shoes gave way, which caused another halt. After this a heavy snow-storm set in, rendering the walking very difficult, as they sank, snow-shoes and all, nearly to the knees at each step. A storm of wind which arose about the same time, effectually stopped their farther advance, and obliged them to take to the shelter of a dense part of the woods and encamp.

During three days and three nights the hurricane raged, and the snow was blown up in the air and whirled about like the foam of the roaring sea; but our wanderers did not feel its effects much, for they had chosen a very sheltered spot at the foot of a large pine, which grew in a hollow, where a cliff on one side and a bluff of wood on the other rendered the blast powerless. Its fierce howling could be heard, however, if not felt; and as the brother and sister lay at the bottom of their hole in the snow, with their toes to the comfortable fire, they chatted much more cheerily than might have been expected in the midst of such a scene, and gazed upward from time to time with comparative indifference at the dark clouds and snow-drifts that were rushing madly overhead.

On the fourth day the gale subsided almost as quickly as it had arisen, and Roy announced that it was his intention to start. In a few minutes everything was packed up and ready.

"I say, Nell," said Roy, just as they were about to leave the camp, "don't the sled look smaller than it used to?"

"So it does, Roy; but I suppose it's because we have eaten so much during the last three days."

Roy shook his head, and looked carefully round the hole they were about to quit.

"Don't know, lass; it seems to me as if somethin' was a-wantin'. Did ye pack your own bundle very tight?"

"Yes; I think I did it tighter than usual, but I'm not very sure."

"Hum—that's it, no doubt—we've packed the sled tighter, and eaten it down. Well, let's off now."

So saying, Roy threw the lines of the sledge over his shoulder and led the way, followed by his sister, whose only burden was a light blanket, fastened as a bundle to her shoulders, and a small tin can, which hung at her belt.

The country through which they passed that day was almost destitute of wood, being a series of undulating plains, with clumps of willows and stunted trees scattered over it like islets in the sea. The land lay in a succession of ridges, or steppes, which descended from the elevated region they were leaving, and many parts of these ridges terminated abruptly in sheer precipices from forty to sixty feet high.

The sun shone with dazzling brilliancy, insomuch that the travellers' eyes became slightly affected by snow-blindness. This temporary blindness is very common in these regions, and ranges from the point of slight dazzlement to that of total blindness; fortunately it is curable by the removal of the cause—the bright light of the sun on pure snow. Esquimaux use "goggles" or spectacles made of wood, with a narrow slit in them as a preventive of snow-blindness.

At first neither Roy nor Nelly felt much inconvenience, but towards evening they could not see as distinctly as usual. One consequence of this was, that they approached a precipice without seeing it. The snow on its crest was so like to the plain of snow extending far below, that it might have deceived one whose eyesight was not in any degree impaired.

The first intimation they had of their danger was the giving way of the snow that projected over the edge of the precipice. Roy fell over headlong, dragging the sledge with him. Nelly, who was a few feet behind him, stood on the extreme edge of the precipice, with the points of her snow-shoes projecting over it. Roy uttered a cry as he fell, and his sister stopped short. A shock of terror blanched her cheek and caused her heart to stand still. She could not move or cry for a few seconds, then she uttered a loud shriek and shrank backwards.

There chanced to be a stout bush or tree growing on the face of the cliff, not ten feet below the spot where the snow-wreath had broken off. Roy caught at this convulsively, and held on. Fortunately the line on his shoulder broke, and the sledge fell into the abyss below. Had this not happened, it is probable that he would have been dragged from his hold of the bush. As it was, he maintained his hold, and hung for a few seconds suspended in the air. Nelly's shriek revived him from the gush of deadly terror that seized him when he fell. He grasped the boughs above him, and was quickly in a position of comparative security among the branches of the bush.

"All right, Nell," he gasped, on hearing her repeat her cry of despair. "I'm holdin' on quite safe. Keep back from the edge, lass—there's no fear o' me."

"Are you sure, Roy?" cried Nelly, trembling very much, as she stretched forward to try to catch sight of her brother.

"Ay, quite sure; but I can't get up, for there's six feet o' smooth rock above me, an' nothin' to climb up by."

"Oh! what shall I do!" cried Nelly.

"Don't get flurried—that's the main thing, lass. Let me think—ay, that's it—you've got your belt?"

"Yes."

"Well, take it off and drop the end over to me; but lie down on your breast, and be careful."

Nelly obeyed, and in a few seconds the end of the worsted belt that usually encircled her waist was dangling almost within reach of her brother. This belt was above five feet long. Roy wore one of similar material and length. He untied it, and then sought to lay hold of the other. With some difficulty, and much risk of falling, he succeeded, and fastened his own belt to it firmly.

"Now, Nell, haul up a little bit—hold! enough."

"What am I to do now?" asked Nell, piteously; "I cannot pull you up, you know."

"Of course not; but take your snow-shoe and dig down to the rocks— you'll find somethin', I dare say, to tie the belts to. Cheer up, lass, and go at it."

Thus encouraged, the active little girl soon cleared away the snow until she reached the ground, where she found several roots of shrubs that seemed quite strong enough for her purpose. To one of these she tied the end of her belt, and Roy, being an athletic lad, hauled himself up, hand over hand, until he gained a place of safety.

"But the sledge is gone," cried Nelly, pausing suddenly in the midst of her congratulations.

"Ay, and the grub," said Roy, with a blank look.

This was indeed too true, and on examination it was found that things were even worse than had been anticipated, for the sledge had fallen on a ledge, half way down the precipice, that was absolutely inaccessible either from above or below. An hour was spent in ascertaining this, beyond all doubt, and then Roy determined to return at once to their last encampment to gather the scraps they had thrown away or left behind as useless.

That night they went supperless to rest. Next morning, they set out with heavy hearts for the encampment of the previous day. On reaching it, and searching carefully, they found that one of the bundles of dry meat had been forgotten. This accounted for the lightness of the sledge, and, at the same time, revived their drooping spirits.

"What is to be done now?" inquired Nelly.

"Return to Silver Lake," said Roy, promptly. "We must go back, fish and hunt again until we have another supply o' grub, and then begin our journey once more."

Sadly and slowly they retraced their steps. Do what he would Roy could not cheer up his sister's spirits. She felt that her back was turned towards her father's house—her mother's home—and every step took her farther from it.

It was a lovely evening, about sunset, when they reached Silver Lake, and found the hut as they had left it, and enough of old scraps of provisions to afford a sufficient meal.

That night they ate their supper in a more cheerful frame of mind. Next day they breakfasted almost with a feeling of heartiness, and when they went out to resume their fishing, and to set snares and make traps, the old feeling of hopefulness returned. Ere long, hope became again so strong in their ardent young hearts, that they laughed and talked and sported as they had done during the period of their first residence there.

At first they were so anxious to make up the lost quantity of food that they did little else but fish, hunt, and dry their provisions when obtained; but after a few days they had procured such an ample supply that they took to shoosking again—having succeeded in making a new sledge. But a thaw came suddenly and spoiled all their fish. A wolf carried off the greater part of their dried meat one day while they were absent from the hut. After this the frost set in with extreme violence, game became more scarce, and fish did not take the bait so readily, so that, although they procured more than enough for present consumption, they were slow in accumulating a travelling store; and thus it came to pass that November found Roy and Nelly still toiling wearily, yet hopefully, on the shores of Silver Lake.



CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

THE MASSACRE.

We must return now to Robin Gore and his wife, who, on the morning on which we re-introduce them to the reader, were standing in the trading store of Fort Enterprise, conversing earnestly with Black, the Indian, who has been already mentioned at the beginning of our tale. The wife of the latter—the White Swan—was busily engaged in counting over the pack of furs that lay open on the counter, absorbed, apparently, in an abstruse calculation as to how many yards of cloth and strings of beads they would purchase.

"Well, I'm glad that's fixed, anyhow," said Robin to his wife, as he turned to the Indian with a satisfied air, and addressed him in his native tongue, "it's a bargain, then, that you an' Slugs go with me on this expedition, is't so?"

"The Black Swan is ready," replied the Indian, quietly, "and he thinks that Slugs will go too—but the white hunter is self-willed; he has a mouth—ask himself."

"Ay, ye don't like to answer for him," said Robin, with a smile; "assuredly Slugs has his own notions, and holds to 'em; but I'll ask him. He is to be here this night, with a deer, I hope, for there are many mouths to fill."

Black Swan, who was a tall, taciturn, and powerful Indian, here glanced at his wife, who was, like most Indian women, a humble-looking and not very pretty or clean creature. Turning again to Robin, he said, in a low, soft voice—

"The White Swan is not strong, and she is not used to be alone."

"I understand you," said Robin; "she shall come to the Fort, and be looked after. You won't object to take her in, Molly, when we're away?"

"Object, Robin," said Molly, with a smile, which was accompanied by a sigh, "I'll only be too glad to have her company."

"Well, then, that's settled; and now, Black Swan, I may as well tell you what coorse I mean to follow out in this sarch for my child'n. You know already that four white men—strangers—have come to the Fort, an' are now smokin' their pipes in the hall, but you don't know that one on 'em is my own brother Jefferson; Jeff, I've bin used to call him. Jeff's bin a harem-scarem feller all his life—active and able enough, an' good natur'd too, but he never could stick to nothin', an' so he's bin wanderin' about the world till grey hairs have begun to show on him, without gettin' a home or a wife. The last thing he tried was stokin' a steamboat on the Mississippi; but the boat blew up, pitched a lot o' the passengers into the water, an' the rest o' them into the next world. Jeff was always in luck with his life; he's lost everythin' over an' over again but that. He was one o' the lot as was blowed into the water, so, when he come up he swamed ashore, an' come straight away here to visit me, bringin' three o' the blowed-up passengers with him. The three are somethin' like himself; good for nothin'; an' I'd rather have their room than their company at most times. Hows'ever, just at this time I'm very glad they've come, for I'll leave them in charge o' the Fort, and set off to look for the child'n in two days from this. I'll take Walter and Larry wi' me, for brother Jeff is able enough to manage the trade if redskins come; he can fight too, if need be. The Gore family could always do that, so ye needn't be afraid, Molly."

"I'll not be afraid, Robin, but I'll be anxious about ye."

"That's nat'ral, lass, but it can't be helped. Well, then," continued Robin, "the five of us will start for the Black Hills. I've bin told by a redskin who comed here last week that he an' his tribe had had a scrimmage with Hawk an' the reptiles that follow him. He says that there was a white boy an' a white girl with Hawk's party, an' from his account of 'em I'm sartin sure it's my Roy and Nelly. God help 'em! 'but,' says he, 'they made their escape durin' the attack, an' we followed our enemies so far that we didn't think it worth while to return to look for 'em, so I'm convinced they made for the Black Hills, nigh which Hawk was attacked, an' if we follow 'em up there we may find 'em alive yet, mayhap.'"

Poor Robin's voice became deeper and less animated as he spoke, and the last word was uttered with hesitation and in a whisper.

"O Robin, Robin!" exclaimed Mrs Gore, throwing her arms suddenly round her husband's neck, and hiding her sobbing face in his breast, "d'ye think they can still be alive?"

"Come, Molly," said Robin, commanding his feelings with a great effort, "han't ye often read to me that wi' God all things is possible?"

The poor woman thanked God in her heart, for up to that day Robin had never once quoted Scripture in his efforts to comfort her.

"Was Wapaw with Hawk when they were attacked?" inquired the Black Swan.

"Wapaw is dead," said a deep voice, as the huge form of a western hunter darkened the little doorway, and the next moment Slugs strode into the store, and quietly seated himself on the counter.

"Dead!" exclaimed Robin, as he shook the hunter's proffered hand.

"Ay, dead! Have ye no word of welcome for a chum after a month's absence?" said Slugs, holding out his horny hand to the Black Swan, who gravely grasped and shook it.

"You redskins are a queer lot," said Slugs, with a grin, "yer as stiff as a rifle ramrod to look at, but there's warm and good stuff in 'ee for all that."

"But what about Wapaw?" inquired Mrs Gore, anxiously; "surely he's not dead."

"If he's not dead he's not livin', for I saw Hawk himself, not four weeks ago, shoot him and follow him up with his tomahawk, and then heard their shout as they killed him. Where did he say he was goin' when he left you?"

"He said he would go down to the settlements to see the missionaries, an' that he thought o' lookin' in on the fur-traders that set up a fort last year, fifty miles to the south'ard o' this."

"Ay, just so," said Slugs; "I was puzzled to know what he was doin' thereaway, and that explains it. He's dead now, an' so are the fur-traders he went to see. I'll tell ye all about it if you'll give me baccy enough to fill my pipe. I ran out o't three days agone, an' ha' bin smokin' tea-leaves an' bark, an' all sorts o' trash. Thank 'ee; that's a scent more sweet nor roses."

As he said this the stout hunter cut up the piece of tobacco which Robin at once handed to him, and rolled it with great zest between his palms. When the pipe was filled and properly lighted, he leaned his back against an unopened bale of goods that lay on the counter, and drawing several whiffs, began his narrative.

"You must know that I made tracks for the noo fur-tradin' post when I left you, Black Swan, about a month ago. I hadn't much of a object; it was mainly cooriosity as took me there. I got there all right, an' was sittin' in the hall chattin' wi' the head man—Macdonell they called him—about the trade and the Injuns. Macdonell's two little child'n was playin' about, a boy an' a girl, as lively as kittens, an' his wife—a good-lookin' young 'ooman—was lookin' arter 'em, when the door opens, and in stalks a long-legged Injun. It was Wapaw. Down he sat in front o' the fireplace, an' after some palaver an' a pipe—for your Injuns'll never tell all they've got to say at once—he tells Macdonell that there was a dark plot hatchin' agin' him—that Hawk, a big rascal of his own tribe, had worked upon a lot o' reptiles like hisself, an' they had made up their minds to come an' massacre everybody at the Fort, and carry off the goods.

"At first Macdonell didn't seem to believe the Injun, but when I told him I knowed him, an' that he was a trustworthy man, he was much troubled, an' in doubt what to do. Now, it's quite clear to me that Hawk must have somehow found out or suspected that Wapaw was goin' to 'peach on him, an' that he had followed his trail close up; for in less than an hour arter Wapaw arrived, an' while we was yet sittin' smokin' by the fire, there was a most tremendous yell outside. I know'd it for the war-whoop o' the redskins, so I jumped up an' cocked my rifle. The others jumped up too, like lightnin'; an' Mrs Macdonell she got hold o' her girlie in her arms an' was runnin' across the hall to her own room, when the door was knocked off its hinges, and fell flat on the floor. Before it had well-nigh fallen I got sight o' somethin', an' let drive. The yell that follered told me I had spoilt somebody's aim. A volley was poured on us next moment, an' a redskin jumped in, but Wapaw's tomahawk sent him out again with a split skull. Before they could reload—for the stupid fools had all fired together—I had the door up, and a heavy table shoved agin it. Then I turned round, to load agin; while I was doin' this, I observed poor Macdonell on his knees beside his wife, so I went to them an' found that the wife an' girl were stone dead—both shot through the heart with the same ball.

"As soon as Macdonell saw this he rose up quietly, but with a look on his face sich as I never see in a man 'xcept when he means to stick at nothin'. He got hold of his double-barrelled gun, an' stuck a scalpin' knife an' an axe in his belt.

"'Git on my back, Tommy,' says he to his little boy, who was cryin' in a corner.

"Tommy got up at once, an' jumped on his dad's back. All this time the redskins were yellin' round the house like fiends, an' batterin' the door, so that it was clear it couldn't stand long.

"'Friends,' said he turnin' to me an' Wapaw, an' a poor terrified chap that was the only one o' his men as chanced to be in the house at the time, 'friends, it's every man for himself now; I'll cut my way though them, or—'. He stopped short, an' took hold o' his axe in one hand, an' his gun in the other. 'Are ye ready?' says he. We threw forward our rifles an' cocked 'em; Macdonell—he was a big, strong man—suddenly upset the table; the savages dashed in the door with sich force that three or four o' 'em fell sprawlin' on the floor. We jumped over these before they could rise, and fired a volley, which sent three or four o' the reptiles behind on their backs. We got into the bush without a scratch, an' used our legs well, I can tell 'ee. They fired a volley after us, which missed us all except poor Tommy. A bullet entered his brain, an' killed him dead. For some time his father would not drop him, though I told him he was quite dead; but his weight kept him from runnin' fast, an' we heard the redskins gainin' on us, so at last Macdonell put the boy down tenderly under a bush. Me and Wapaw stopped to fire an' keep the reptiles back, but they fired on us, and Wapaw fell. I tried to lift him, but he struggled out o' my arms. Poor fellow! he was a brave man; and I've no doubt did it a-purpose, knowin' that I couldn't run fast enough with him. Just then I saw Hawk come jumpin' and yellin' at us, followed by two or three dozen redskins, all flourishin' their tomahawks. Macdonell and me turned to die fightin' alongside o' our red comrade, but Wapaw suddenly sprang up, uttered a shout of defiance, an' dashed into the bush. The Injuns were after him in a moment, and before we could get near them a yell of triumph told us that it was too late, so we turned and bolted in different directions.

"I soon left them behind me, but I hung about the place for a day or two to see if Macdonell should turn up, or any of his men. I even went back to the Fort after the reptiles had left it. They had burned it down, an' I saw parts o' the limbs o' the poor wife and child lyin' among the half-burned goods that they weren't able to carry away with them."



CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

VENGEANCE.

The terrible tale which was related by Slugs had the effect of changing Robin Gore's plans. He resolved to pursue the murderers, and inflict summary punishment on them before setting off on the contemplated search for his lost children, and he was all the more induced to do this that there was some hope he might be able to obtain a clue to their whereabouts from some of the prisoners whom he hoped to seize.

It might be thought by some a rash step for him to take—the pursuit of a band of about fifty savages with a party of six men. But backwood hunters were bold fellows in those days, and Indians were by no means noted for reckless courage. Six stout, resolute, and well-armed men were, in Robin's opinion, quite a match for fifty redskins!

He could not muster more than six, because it was absolutely necessary to leave at least three men to guard Fort Enterprise. Robin therefore resolved to leave his brother Jeff to look after it, with two of the strangers; and Jeff accepted the charge with pleasure, saying he "would defend the place agin a hundred red reptiles." The third stranger—a man named Stiff—he resolved to take with him.

The war-party, when mustered, consisted of Robin Gore, his nephew Walter, Larry O'Dowd, the Black Swan, Slugs the hunter, and Stiff the stranger. Armed to the teeth, these six put on their snow-shoes the following morning, and set forth on their journey in silence.

Now this change of plans was—all unknown to Robin—the means of leading him towards, instead of away from, his lost little ones. For Roy and Nelly had travelled so far during their long wanderings from the Black Hills—the place where they escaped from the Indians—that they were at that time many long miles away from them in another direction. In fact, if Robin had carried out his original plan of search, he would have been increasing the distance between himself and his children every step he took!

Not knowing this, however, and being under the impression that each day's march lessened his chance of ultimately finding his lost ones, he walked along, mile after mile, and day after day, in stern silence.

On the third day out, towards evening, the party descried a thin line of blue smoke rising above the tree-tops. They had reached an elevated and somewhat hilly region, so that the ground favoured their approach by stealth, nevertheless, fearing to lose their prey, they resolved to wait till dark, and take their enemies, if such they should turn out to be, by surprise.

Soon after sunset Robin gave the word to advance. Each man of the party laid aside his blanket, and left his provisions, etcetera, in the encampment, taking with him his arms only.

"I need not say that there must be no speaking, and that we must tread lightly. You're up to redskin ways as well as me, except mayhap our friend Stiff here."

Stiff who was a tall Yankee, protested that he could "chaw up his tongue, and go as slick as a feline mouser."

On nearing the fire, they made a detour to examine the tracks that led to it, and found from their number and other signs that it was indeed Hawk's party.

Robin advanced alone to reconnoitre. On returning, he said—

"It's just the reptiles; there's forty of 'em if there's one, an' they've got a white man bound with 'em; no doubt from what you said of him, Slugs, it's Macdonell; but I don't see Wapaw. I fear me that his days are over. Now, then, lads, here's our plan: we'll attack them from six different points at once. We'll all give the war-whoop at the same moment, takin' the word from Walter there, who's got a loud pipe of his own, then when the varmints start to their feet—for I don't like the notion o' firin' at men off their guard—Walter, Larry, an' Stiff will fire. Black Swan, Slugs, an' I will reserve our fire while you reload; the reptiles will scatter, of course, an' we'll give 'em a volley an' a united yell as they cut stick, that'll keep 'em from waitin' for more."

The plan thus hastily sketched was at once carried out. Advancing stealthily to their several stations, the six men, as it were, surrounded the savages, who, not dreaming of pursuit, had neglected to place sentinels round the camp. When Walter's loud "halloo!" rang in their ears, the whole band sprang to their feet, and seized their arms, but three shots laid three of them dead on the ground. As they fled right and left the reserve fired, and shot three others, among whom was Hawk himself. Black Swan had picked him out, and shot him through the head. Before they were quite out of shot, the three who had first fired had reloaded and fired again with some effect, for blood was afterwards observed on the snow.

Slugs now made a rush into the camp to unbind Macdonell, but to his horror he discovered that a knife was plunged up to the handle in his breast, and that he was almost dead. Hawk had evidently committed this cowardly deed on the first alarm, for the knife was known to be his. Macdonell tried hard to speak, but all that he was able to say was, "Wapaw, wounded, escaped—follow." Then his head fell back, and he died. From the few words thus uttered, however, the pursuers concluded that Wapaw was not dead, but wounded, and that he had escaped.

"If that be so," said Walter, "then they must have been on Wapaw's tracks, an' if we search we shall find 'em, an' may follow 'em up."

"True," said Slugs, "and the sooner we're away from this the better, for the reptiles may return, and find us not so strong a band as they think."

Acting on this advice, the whole party set off at once. Wapaw's track was soon discovered, being, of course, a solitary one, and in advance of his enemies, who were in pursuit. Following the track with untiring vigour, the party found that it led them out of the lower country into a region high up amongst the hills.



CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

THE PURSUIT.

"Wapaw must have worked hard, for we should have overhauled him by this time," said Walter to his uncle on the evening of the next day, as they plodded steadily along through the snow.

"I would give up the pursuit," said Robin, somewhat gloomily, "for it's losin' time that might be better spent on another search; but it won't do to leave the crittur, for if he's badly wounded he may die for want o' help."

"Guess he can't be very bad, else he'd niver travel so fast," observed Stiff, who, now that the chief murderer was punished, did not care much to go in search of the wounded Indian.

"When a man thinks a band o' yellin' redskins are follerin' up his trail," said Slugs, "he's pretty sure to travel fast, wounded or not wounded—leastways if he's able. But I don't think we'll have to go much farther now, for I've noticed that his stride ain't so long as it was, and that's a sartin sure sign that he's failin'; I only hope he won't go under before we find him."

"Niver a fear o' that," said Larry O'Dowd, with a grin. "I've seed him as far gone as any one iver I comed across, wi' starvation; but the way that fellow walked into the grub when he got the chance was wonderful to behold! I thought he'd ait me out o' the house entirely; and he put so much flesh on his bones in a week or two that he was able to go about his business, though he warn't no fatter when he began to ait than a consumptive darnin' needle. True for ye—it's naither walkin', starvin', nor cowld, as'll kill Wapaw."

"What does the Black Swan think?" inquired Robin.

"We shall see Wapaw when the sun is low to-morrow," replied the Indian.

"Mayhap we shall," quoth Robin, "but it behooves us to get the steam up for to-morrow: so, comrades, as there's a good clump o' timber here away, we'll camp."

Robin threw down his bundle as he spoke, and his example was at once followed by the others, each of whom set to work vigorously to assist in preparing the encampment.

They had all the requisite implements for this purpose, having returned, after the attack on the Indians, for the things they had left behind them.

"It's a pity that we shall have to keep watch to-night," said Walter; "one of us will have to do it, I fancy; for though I don't believe these murderin' redskins have pluck to attack us, it would not do to trust to that."

Slugs, to whom this remark was addressed, lowered the axe with which he was about to fell a neighbouring tree for firewood.

"That's true," said he, looking round him in all directions; "hold on, comrades, yonder's a mound with a bare top, we'd better camp there. Makin' a big blaze on sitch a place'll show the red reptiles we don't care a gun-flint for them, and they'll not dare to come near, so we won't have to watch."

"Arrah! an' a purty spot it'll be for the blackyirds to shoot us all aisy as we're sottin' at supper," exclaimed Larry O'Dowd.

"Doubtless there's a hollow on it," rejoined Slugs, "for the top is flat."

"Humph! maybe," growled Larry, who still seemed to object; but, as the rest of the party were willing to adopt the suggestion, he said no more, and they all went to the top of the little mound, which commanded a clear view of the surrounding country.

As Slugs had surmised, there was a slight hollow on the summit of the mound, which effectually screened the party from any one who might wish to fire at them from below; and as there was no other mound in the immediate neighbourhood, they felt quite secure. Huge logs were cut and carried to the top of the mound, the snow was cleared out of the hole, pine branches were spread over it, the fire was kindled, the kettle put on and filled with snow, and soon Larry O'Dowd was involved in the heat, steam, smoke, and activities of preparing supper, while his comrades spread out their blankets and lay down to smoke with their arms ready beside them.

The fire roared up into the wintry sky, causing the mound to resemble the cone or crater of a volcano, which could be seen for miles round. Ever and anon, while supper was being eaten, the Black Swan or Slugs would rise, and going stealthily to the edge of the mound would peep cautiously over, to make sure that none of their enemies were approaching.

Immediately after supper, they all lay down to sleep, but, for a time, each motionless form that lay rolled tightly in its blanket like an Egyptian mummy, sent a series of little puffs from its head. At last the stars came out, and the pipes dropped from each sleeper's lips. Then the moon rose—a circumstance which rendered their position still more secure—and the fire sank low. But Slugs was too cautious a hunter to trust entirely to the alleged cowardice of the savages. He knew well that many, indeed most of the redskins, bad as well as good, had quite enough of mere brute courage to make them dare and risk a good deal for the sake of scalping a white hunter, so he rose once or twice during the night to replenish the fire and take a look round; and as often as he rose for these purposes, so often did he observe the glittering eye of the Black Swan glaring round the encampment, although its owner never once moved from his recumbent posture.

Thus the night was spent. The first glimmer of daylight found the whole party up and equipped for the journey.

They did not breakfast before setting out, as they preferred to take their morning meal later in the day. Few words were spoken. At that early hour, and in the sleepy condition which usually results from a very early start, men are seldom inclined to talk. Only one or two monosyllables were uttered as each man rolled up his blanket with his share of the provisions in it, and fastened on his snow-shoes. A few minutes later Robin led the way down the slope, and the whole party marched off in single file, and re-entered the woods.



CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

INTERESTING THOUGH PUZZLING DISCOVERIES.

About eight o'clock they halted for breakfast, which Larry O'Dowd prepared with his accustomed celerity, and assisted to consume with his wonted voracity.

"There's nothin' like aitin' when yer hungry," observed Larry, with his mouth full.

"'Xcept drinking when you're dry," said Stiff, ironically.

"Now I don't agree with ye," retorted Larry; "I used to think so wance, before I left the owld country—my blissin' rest on it. I used to think there was nothin' like drink, an' sure I was right, for there niver was anythin' like it for turnin' a poor man into a baste; but when I comed into the woods here I couldn't get drink for love or money, an' sure I found, after a while, I didn't need it, and got on better widout it, an' enjoyed me life more for want of it. Musha! it's little I care for drink now; but, och! I've a mortal love for aitin'!"

It needed not Larry's assurance to convince his hearers of the fact, for he consumed nearly twice as much dried meat as any of his comrades.

"Well, if ye don't drink gin-sling or cocktail," said Stiff, "you're mighty hard on the tea."

"True for ye, Stiff, it was the fav'rite tipple o' me owld mother, an' I'm fond of it on that score, not to mention other raisins of a private natur'."

"Couldn't ye make these reasons public?" said Walter.

"Unpossible!" said Larry, with much gravity, as he helped himself to another can of tea.

"Come, time's up," said Robin abruptly, as he rose to put on his snow-shoes.

Larry swallowed the tea at a draught, the others rose promptly, and in a few minutes more they were again on the march.

Towards noon they issued out of the woods upon a wide undulating country, which extended, as far as the eye could see, to faint blue mountains in the distance. This region was varied in character and extremely beautiful. The undulations of the land resembled in some places the waves of the sea. In other places there were clumps of trees like islets. Elsewhere there were hollows in which lakelets and ponds evidently existed, but the deep snow covered all these with a uniform carpet. In some parts the ground was irregular and broken by miniature hills, where there were numerous abrupt and high precipices.

The party were approaching one of the latter in the afternoon, when Robin suddenly paused and pointed to a projecting ledge on the face of one of the cliffs.

"What would ye say yonder objic' was?" he inquired of Slugs.

The hunter shaded his eyes with his hand, and remained silent for a few seconds.

"It looks like a sled," said he, dropping his hand, "but how it got thar' would puzzle even a redskin to tell, for there's no track up to that ledge."

"It is a sled," said Black Swan, curtly.

"An' how came it there?" asked Robin.

"It fell from the top," replied the Indian.

"Right, lad, yer right!" said Slugs, who had taken another long look at the object in question; "I see somethin' like a broken tree near the top o' the precipice. I hope Wapaw hain't gone an' tumbled over that cliff."

This supposition was received in silence and with grave looks, for all felt that the thing was not impossible, but the Indian shook his head.

"Come, Black Swan," said Walter, "you don't agree with us—what think ye?"

"Wapaw had no sled with him," replied the Indian.

"Right again!" cried Slugs; "I do believe my sense is forsakin' me; an Injun baby might have thought of that, for his tracks are plain enough. Hows'ever, let's go see, for it's o' no use standin' here guessin'."

The party at once advanced to the foot of the precipice, and for nearly an hour they did their utmost to ascend to the ledge, on which the sledge lay, but their efforts were in vain. The rock was everywhere too steep and smooth to afford foot-hold.

"It won't do," said Larry, wiping the perspiration from his brow; "av we had wings we might, but we hain't got 'em, so it's o' no manner o' use tryin'."

"We shall try from the top now," said Robin. "If anybody has tumbled over, the poor crittur may be alive yet, for all we know."

They found their efforts to descend from the top of the precipice equally fruitless and much more dangerous, and although they spent a long time in the attempt, and taxed their wits to the utmost, they were ultimately compelled to leave the place and continue their journey without attaining their object.

One discovery was made, however. It was ascertained by the old marks in the snow at the edge of the precipice that, whatever members of the party who owned the sledge had tumbled over, at least two of them had escaped, for their track—faint and scarcely discernible—was traced for some distance. It was found, also, that Wapaw's track joined this old one. The wounded Indian had fallen upon it not far from the precipice, and, supposing, no doubt, that it would lead him to some encampment, he had followed it up. Robin and his men also followed it—increasing their speed as much as possible.

Night began to descend again, but Wapaw was not overtaken, despite the Black Swan's prophecy. This, however, was not so much owing to the miscalculation of the Indian, as to the fact that a great deal of time had been lost in their futile endeavour to reach the sledge that had fallen over the precipice.

About sunset they came to a place where the track turned suddenly at a right angle and entered the bushes.

"Ha! the first travellers must have camped here, and Wapaw has followed their example," said Robin, as he pushed aside the bushes. "Just so, here's the place, but the ashes are cold, so I fear we are not so near our Injun friend as we could wish."

"Well, it can't be helped," cried Stiff, throwing down his bundle; "we've had plenty o' walkin' for one day, so I vote for supper right off."

"I second the motion," said Walter, seizing his axe, "seein' that the camp is ready made to hand. Now, Larry, get your pot ready."

"Sure it's stuffed full a'ready—an' I only wish I was in the same state," said the Irishman, as he pressed the snow tightly into a tin kettle, and hung it over the fire, which Slugs had just kindled.

The supper scene of the previous night was, in most of its details, enacted over again; but it was resolved that each of the party should keep watch for an hour, as, if the Indians had followed, there was a possibility of their having gained on them during the delay at the precipice.

Before the watch was set, however, and while all the party were enjoying their pipes after supper, the Black Swan suddenly exclaimed, "Ho!" and pointed with his finger to something which peeped out of the snow at Larry's elbow, that volatile individual having uncovered it during some of his eccentric movements.

"It's only an owld mocassin," said Larry, plucking the object from the snow as he spoke; "some Injun lad has throw'd it away for useless."

"Hand it here," said Robin, re-lighting his pipe, which had gone out.

Larry tossed the mocassin to his leader, who eyed it carelessly for a moment. Suddenly he started, and, turning the mocassin over, examined it with close and earnest attention. Then he smiled, as if at his passing anxiety, and dropped it on the ground.

"It reminded me," said he to Walter, "of my Nelly, for it has something of the same shape that she was fond of, an' for a moment I was foolish enough to think it might ha' belonged to the dear child, but—. Come, Larry, have 'ee got any more tea there?"

"Is it tay ye want? faix, then, it's little more nor laves that's remainin'," said Larry, draining the last drops into a pannikin; "well, there's about half a mug-full, afther all; it's wonderful what can be got out o' it sometimes by squaazin' the pot."

"Hand it over, that's enough," said Robin, "thank 'ee, lad—here's luck."

He drained the pannikin as though it had been a glass of rum, and, smacking his lips, proceeded leisurely to refill his pipe.

"Are ye sure it's not one of Nelly's old mocassins?" asked Walter, as he eyed the little shoe earnestly.

"Sure enough, nephy, I would know her mother's make among ten thousand, an' although that one is oncommon like it in some respec's, it ain't one o' hers."

"But Nelly might have made it herself," suggested Walter, "and that would account for its bein' like her mother's in the make."

Robin shook his head. "Not likely," said he. "The child didn't use to make mocassins. I'm not sure if she could do it at all; besides she was last heard of miles and miles away from here in another direction. No, no, Walter lad, we mustn't let foolish fancies bother us. However, the sight o' this has fixed me to push on to-morrow as hard as I can lay my legs to it, for if Wapaw's alive we can't fail to come up wi' him afore sundown; and I'm keen to turn about an' go after my children. I'll push on by myself if ye don't care to keep up wi me."

This latter remark was made to Stiff, whose countenance indicated that he had no desire to undertake a harder day's march than usual. The effect of the remark was to stir up all the Yankee's pride.

"I'll tell 'ee what it is, Mister Gore," said he, tartly; "you may think yourself an oncommon hard walker, but Obadiah Stiff is not the man to cave in to any white man alive. I don't care to go trampin' over the country day after day, like the Wandering Jew, after a redskin, as, I'll go bound, ain't no better than the rest o' his kind; but if ye want to see which of our legs is the best pair o' compasses, I'll walk with ye from here to hereafter, I guess, or anywhar else ye choose; if I don't, then my name ain't Stiff."

"It would be well av it worn't Stiff, for ye've no reason to be proud o't," observed Larry O'Dowd, with a grin; "don't spake so loud, man, but shut up yer potatie trap and go to roost. Ye'll need it all if ye wouldn't like to fall behind to-morrow. There now, don't reply; ye've no call to make me yer father confessor, and apologise for boastin'; good night, an' go to slape!"

The rest of the party, who had lain down, laughed at this sally, and Stiff, on consideration, thought it best to laugh too. In a few minutes every one in the encampment was sound asleep, with the exception of Robin Gore, who took the first hour of watching, and who sat beside the sinking fire like a Indian in earnest meditation, with his eyes resting dreamily on the worn-out mocassin.



CHAPTER NINETEEN.

SHORT ALLOWANCE, AND A SURPRISE.

Once again we return to Silver Lake; but here we do not find affairs as we left them. True, Roy and Nelly are still there, the hut is as snug as it used to be, and the scenery as beautiful, but provisions have begun to fail, and an expression of real anxiety clouds the usually cheerful countenance of Roy, while reflected anxiety sits on the sweet little face of Nell. The winter is far advanced, and the prospect of resuming the journey home is farther off than ever.

One morning Roy entered the hut with a slow step and a sad countenance.

"Nell," said he, throwing down a small fish which he had just caught, "things look very bad now; seems to me that we'll starve here. Since we broke the long line I've only caught little things like that; there's no rabbits in the snares—I looked at every one this mornin'—and, as for deer, they seem to have said good-bye for the winter. I thought of goin' out with the gun this forenoon, but I think it a'nt o' no use, for I was out all yesterday without seeing a feather or a hoof-print."

The tone in which Roy said this, and the manner in which he flung himself down on the ground beside the fire, alarmed his sister greatly, so that she scarcely knew what to say.

"Don't know what's to be done at all," continued Roy somewhat peevishly.

This was so unlike himself that the little girl felt a strong tendency to burst into tears, but she restrained herself. After a short silence, she said somewhat timidly—

"Don't you think we might try to pray?"

"What's the use," said Roy quickly; "I'm sure I've prayed often and often, and so have you, but nothin's come of it."

It was quite evident that Roy was in a state of rebellion. This was the first time Nelly had suggested united prayer to her brother; she did it timidly, and the rebuff caused her to shrink within herself.

Roy's quick eye observed the shrinking; he repented instantly, and, drawing Nelly to him, laid her head on his breast.

"Forgive me, Nell, I shouldn't have said it; for, after all, we've had everything given to us here that we have needed up to this time. Come, I will pray with you."

They both got upon their knees at once, but, strive as he might, not a word would cross Roy's lips for several minutes. Nelly raised her head and looked at him.

"God help us!" he ejaculated.

"For Jesus' sake," murmured Nelly.

They both said "Amen" to these words, and these were all their prayers.

Roy's rebellion of heart was gone now, but his feelings were not yet calmed. He leaped up, and, raising his sister, kissed her almost violently.

"Now, lass, we have prayed, and I do believe that God will answer us; so I'll take my gun and snow-shoes, an' off to the woods to look for a deer. See that you have a roarin' fire ready to roast him three hours hence."

Nelly smiled through her tears and said she would, while Roy slipped his feet through the lines of his snow-shoes, threw his powder-horn and bullet-pouch over his shoulder, seized his gun, and sallied forth with a light step.

When he was gone, Nelly began actively to prepare for the fulfilment of her promise. She took up the axe which Roy had left behind him, and went into the forest behind the hut to cut firewood. She was very expert at this laborious work. Her blows were indeed light, for her little arms, although strong for their size, were not strong for such labour; but she knew exactly where to hit and how to hit. Every stroke fell on the right spot, with the axe at the right angle, so that a chip or two flew off every time. She panted a good deal, and grew uncommonly warm, but she liked the work; her face glowed and her eyes sparkled, and it was evident that she was not exhausted by it. In little more than an hour she had cut enough of dry wood to make a fire that would have roasted an entire sheep. Then she carried it to the hut, after which she sat down to rest a little.

While resting, she gathered carefully together all the scraps of food in the hut, and found that there was still enough for two good meals; so she ate a small piece of dried fish, and began to wish that Roy would return. Suddenly she was startled by a loud fluttering noise close to the hut, and went out to see what it could be.

It might be supposed that a little girl in such solitary and unprotected circumstances would have felt alarmed, and thought of wolves or bears; but Nelly was too well accustomed to the dangers and risks of the backwoods to be much troubled with mere fancies. She was well aware that wolves and bears, as a rule, shun the presence of human beings, and the noise which she had heard was not of a very alarming character.

The first sight that greeted her was a large bird of the grouse species, sitting on a tree not three yards from the hut. She almost felt that by springing forward she could seize it with her hands, and her first impulse was to throw the axe at it; but, checking herself, she went noiselessly back into the hut, and quickly reissued with the bow and a couple of arrows.

Fitting an arrow to the string, she whispered to herself, "Oh, how I do hope I won't miss it!" and took a careful aim. Anxiety, however, made her hand unsteady, for, the next moment, the arrow was quivering in the stem of the tree at least three inches below the bird.

A look of deep disappointment was mingled with an expression of determination as she pursed her little mouth and fitted the second arrow to the string. This time she did not take so careful an aim, but let fly at once, and her shaft entered the bird's throat and brought it to the ground. With a cry of delight she sprang upon her prize, and bore it in triumph into the hut, where she speedily plucked it. Then she split it open, and went down to the lake and washed it quite clean and spread it out flat. Her next proceeding was to cut a short stick, about two feet in length, which she pointed at both ends, making one point thinner than the other. This thin point she thrust through the bird, and stuck it up before the fire to roast, placing a small dish, made of birch bark, below it to catch the dripping.

"I hope he won't come back till it's ready," she muttered, as the skin of the bird began to brown and frizzle, while a delicious odour began to fill the hut.

Just as the thought was uttered, a footstep was heard outside, the covering of the doorway was raised, a tall figure stooped to enter, and the next instant a gaunt and half-naked savage stood before her.

Nelly uttered a faint cry of terror, but she was so paralysed that she could make no effort to escape, even had escape been possible.

The appearance of the Indian was indeed calculated to strike terror to a stouter heart than that of poor Nelly; for besides being partially clad in torn garments, his eyes were sunken and bloodshot, and his whole person was more or less smeared with blood.

As the poor child gazed at this apparition in horror, the Indian said, "Ho!" by way of salutation, and stepping forward, took her hand gently and shook it after the manner of the white man. A gleam of intelligence and surprise at once removed the look of fear from Nelly's face.

"Wapaw!" she exclaimed breathlessly.

"Ho!" replied the Indian, with a nod and a smile, as he laid aside his gun and snowshoes, and squatted himself down before the fire.

There was not much to be gathered from "ho!" but the nod and smile proved to Nelly that the intruder was indeed none other than her old friend Wapaw.

Her alarm being now removed, she perceived that the poor Indian was suffering both from fatigue and wounds—perhaps from hunger too; but this latter idea was discarded when she observed that several birds, similar to the one she had just killed, hung at the Indian's belt. She rose up quickly, therefore, and, running down to the lake, soon returned with a can of clear water, with which she purposed bathing Wapaw's wounds. Wapaw seized the can, however, and emptied the contents down his throat, so she was constrained to go for a second supply.

Having washed the wounds, which were chiefly on the head and appeared to her to be very severe, although, in reality, they were not so, she set the roasted bird before him and desired him to eat.

Of course she had put a great many questions to Wapaw while thus occupied. Her residence with the Indians had enabled her to speak and understand the Indian tongue a little, and, although she had some difficulty in understanding much of what Wapaw said in reply, she comprehended enough to let her know that a number of white men had been killed by the savages, and that Wapaw was fleeing for his life.

On first hearing this a deadly paleness overspread her face, for she imagined that the white people killed must be her own kindred; but Wapaw quickly relieved her mind on this point.

After this he devoted himself entirely to the roasted bird, and Nelly related to him, as well as she could, the particulars of her own and Roy's escape from the Indians.



CHAPTER TWENTY.

MORE SURPRISING DISCOVERIES.

While they were thus occupied, a cry was heard to ring through the forest. The Indian laid his hand on his gun, raised his head, which he turned to one side in a listening attitude, and sat as still as a dark statue. The only motion that could be detected in the man was a slight action in his distended nostrils as he breathed gently.

This attitude was but momentary, however, for the cry was repeated ("Hi! Nelly, hi!") in clear silvery tones, and Wapaw smiled as he recognised Roy's voice, and quietly resumed his former occupation.

Nelly bounded up at once, and ran out to receive her brother, and tell him of the arrival of their old friend.

She slipped on her snow-shoes, and went off in the direction of the cry. On rounding the foot of a cliff she discovered Roy, standing as if he had been petrified, with his eyes glaring at the snow with a mingled look of surprise and alarm.

Nelly's step roused him.

"Ho! Nell," he cried, giving vent to a deep sigh of relief, "I'm thankful to see you—but look here. What snow-shoe made this track? I came on it just this moment, and it pulled me up slick, I can tell ye."

Nelly at once removed Roy's alarm, and increased his surprise by telling him of the new arrival, who, she said, was friendly, but she did not tell him that he was an old friend.

"But come, now, what have you got for dinner, Roy?" said Nelly, with an arch smile, "for oh! I'm so hungry."

Roy's countenance fell, and he looked like a convicted culprit.

"Nell, I haven't got nothin' at all."

"What a pity! We must just go supperless to bed, I suppose."

"Come, lass, I see by the twinkle in your eye that you've got grub somehow or other. Has the redskin brought some 'at with him?"

"Yes, he has brought a little; but the best fun is that I shot a bird myself, and had it all ready beautifully cooked for your supper, when Wap—"

"Well, what d'ye mean by Wap?" inquired Roy, as Nelly stopped short.

"Nothing. I only meant to say that the Indian arrived suddenly, and ate it all up."

"The villain! Well, I'll pay him off by eatin' up some o' his grub. Did he say what his name was, or where he came from?" inquired Roy.

"Never mind, you can ask him yourself," said Nelly, as they drew near to the hut; "he seems to me to have been badly wounded by his enemies."

They stooped and entered the hut as Nelly spoke. The Indian looked up at her brother, and, uttering his wonted "Ho!" held out his hand.

"Good luck to ye!" cried Roy, grasping it and shaking it with a feeling of hearty hospitality. "It's good to see yer face, though it is a strange un; but—hallo!—I say—yer face ain't so strange, after all!— what! Why, you're not Wap—Wap—Wapaw!"

The Indian displayed all his teeth, which were very numerous and remarkably white, and nodded his head gently.

"Well now, that beats everything!" cried Roy, seizing the Indian's hand again and shaking it violently; then, turning to Nelly, he said, "Come, Nell, stir yer stumps and pluck two o' them birds. I'll split 'em, an' wash 'em, an' roast 'em, an' we'll all eat 'em—Wapaw'll be ready for more before it's ready for him. Jump, now, and see if we don't have a feast to-night, if we should starve to-morrow. But I say, Wapaw, don't ye think the redskins may be after you yet?"

The first part of this speech was uttered in wild glee, but the last sentence was spoken more earnestly, as the thought occurred to him that Wapaw might have been closely pursued, for Nelly had told him of the Indian having been wounded by enemies and obliged to fly.

Wapaw shook his head, and made his young friend understand as well as he could that there was little chance of that, as he had travelled with the utmost speed in order to distance his pursuers, and induce them to give up the chase.

"Well, it may be as you say, friend," observed Roy, as he sat down before the fire and pulled off his hunting mocassins and socks, which he replaced by lighter foot-gear more suited to the hut; "but I don't much like the notion o' givin' them a chance to come up and cut all our throats at once. It's not likely, however, that they'll be here to-night, considerin' the pace you say you came at, so we'll make our minds easy, but with your leave we'll cut our sticks to-morrow, an' make tracks for Fort Enterprise. We han't got much in the way o' grub to start wi', it is true, but we have enough at least for two days' eatin', and for the rest, we have our guns, and you to be our guide."

This plan was agreed to by Wapaw, who thereupon advised that they should all lie down to sleep without delay. Roy, who was fatigued with his day's exertions, agreed, and in less than half an hour the three were sound asleep.

Next morning they arose with the sun, much refreshed; and while Wapaw and Nelly collected together and packed on their new sledge the few things that they possessed, Roy went for the last time to cast his line in Silver Lake. He was more fortunate than usual, and returned in an hour with four fine fish of about six pounds' weight each.

With this acceptable, though small, addition to their slender stock of provisions, they left the hut about noon, and commenced their journey, making a considerable detour in order to avoid meeting with any of the Indians who might chance to have continued the pursuit of Wapaw.

That same evening, towards sunset, a party of hunters marched out of the woods, and stood upon the shores of Silver Lake, the tracks about which they began to examine with particular interest. There were six of the party, five of them being white hunters, and one an Indian. We need scarcely add that they were our friend Robin and his companions.

"I tell 'ee what it is," cried Robin, in an excited tone, "that's my Nelly's fut; I'd know the prints o't among a thousand, an' it's quite plain Roy is with her, an' that Wapaw has come on 'em, for their tracks are clear."

"Sure it looks like it," observed Larry O'Dowd, scratching his head as if in perplexity, "but the tracks is so mixed up, it ain't aisy to foller 'em."

"See, here's a well-beaten track goin' into the wood!" cried Walter, who had, like his companions, been searching among the bushes.

Every one followed Walter, who led the way towards the hut, which was finally discovered with a thin, scarcely perceptible line of smoke still issuing from the chimney. They all stopped at once, and held back to allow Robin to advance alone. The poor man went forward with a beating heart, and stopped abruptly at the entrance, where he stood for a few seconds as if he were unable to go in. At length he raised the curtain and looked in; then he entered quickly.

"Gone, Walter, they're gone!" he cried; "come in, lad, and see. Here's evidence o' my dear children everywhere. It's plain, too, that they have left only a few hours agone."

"True for ye, the fire's hot," said Larry, lighting his pipe from the embers in testimony of the truth of his assertion.

"They can't be far off," said Slugs, who was examining every relic of the absent ones with the most minute care. "The less time we lose in follerin' of 'em the better—what think ye, lad?" The Black Swan nodded his approval of the sentiment.

"What! without sleep or supper?" cried Stiff, whose enthusiasm in the chase had long ago evaporated.

"Ay," said Robin sternly, "I start now. Let those stop here who will."

To do Stiff justice, his objections were never pressed home, so he comforted himself with a quid of tobacco, and accompanied Robin and his men with dogged resolution when they left the hut. Plunging once more into the forest, they followed up the track all night, as they had already followed it up all day.



CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

A GLADSOME MEETING.

Some hours before dawn Robin Gore came to an abrupt pause, and looking over his shoulder, held up his hand to command silence. Then he pointed to a small mound, on the top of which a faint glow of light was seen falling on the boughs of the shrubs, with which it was crowned.

The moon had just set, but there was sufficient light left to render surrounding objects pretty distinct.

"That's them," said Robin to Walter, in a low whisper, as the latter came close to his side; "no doubt they're sound asleep, an' I'm puzzled how to wake 'em up without givin' 'em a fright."

"Musha! it's a fright that Wapaw will give us, av we start him suddenly, for he's murtherin' quick wi' his rifle," whispered Larry.

"We'd better hide and then give a howl," suggested Stiff, "an', after they're sot up, bring 'em down with a familiar hail."

The deliberations of the party were out short and rendered unnecessary, however, by Wapaw himself. That sharp-eared red man had been startled by the breaking of a branch which Larry O'Dowd chanced to set his foot on, and, before Robin had observed their fire, he had roused Roy and Nelly and hurried with them to the summit of a rocky eminence, from which stronghold they now anxiously watched the proceedings of the hunters. The spot to which they had fled for refuge was almost impregnable, and might have been held for hours by a couple of resolute men against a host of savages.

Robin, after a little further consultation, resolved to send the Black Swan in advance to reconnoitre. This he did, contrary to his wonted custom of taking the lead in everything, because of an unaccountable feeling of dread lest he should not find his children there.

Black Swan at once stepped cautiously forward with his rifle, ready cocked, in the hollow of his left arm, and his finger on the trigger-guard. Step by step he moved towards the encampment without making the slightest noise, and with so little motion that he might easily have been mistaken for a dark shadow. Raising his head over the edge of the encampment he gazed earnestly into it, then he advanced another pace or two, finally he stepped into it, and, standing erect, looked around him. With a wave of his hand he summoned his comrades to advance. Robin Gore's heart beat hard as he approached, followed by the others.

Meanwhile they were closely watched by Roy and Wapaw. When the Black Swan's head appeared, Roy exclaimed in a whisper, "An Injun—d'ye know him, Wapaw?"

"He is one of our tribe, I think," replied the Indian, in the same low voice, "but I know him not; the light of the fire is not strong."

"If he's one o' your tribe," said Roy, "it's all up with us, for they won't be long o' findin' us here. Keep close to me, Nell. I'll stick by you, lass, don't fear."

Wapaw's brows lowered when he saw the Black Swan step into the encampment, and make the signal to his comrades to advance. He raised his rifle, and took deliberate aim at his heart.

"Roy," he whispered, "get an arrow ready, aim at the next man that steps into the light and let fly; I'll not fire till after you, for the smoke would blind you."

Roy obeyed with a trembling hand. Notwithstanding the rough life he had led in those wild woods of the West, he had never yet been called on to lift his hand against a human being, and the thought of taking life in this deliberate and almost murderous way caused him to shudder; still he felt that their case was desperate, and he nerved himself to the deed.

Another moment, and Robin stood beside the Black Swan. Roy tried to raise his bow, but his heart failed him. Wapaw glanced at him, and said sternly—

"Shoot first."

At that moment Obadiah Stiff stepped into the encampment, and, stirring the embers of the fire with a piece of stick, caused a bright flame and showers of sparks to shoot upwards. This revealed the fact that some of the party were white men, so Wapaw lowered his rifle. A single glance of his practised eye told him who they were. Laying his hand suddenly and heavily on Roy's shoulder he pressed him down.

"Come, let us go," he said quickly; "I must see these men alone, and you must keep close—you must not look."

He said the latter words with emphasis; but in order to make sure that they should not have a chance of looking, he led his young companions to a point whence the encampment could not be seen, and left them there with strict injunctions not to quit the spot until he should return.

In a few seconds Wapaw stepped into the circle of light where Robin and his party were all assembled, and so rapid and noiseless had his movement been, that he was in the midst of them almost before they were aware of his approach.

"Wapaw!" exclaimed Walter in surprise, "why, you seem to have dropped from the clouds."

"Sure it's a ghost ye must be," cried Larry. The Indian took no notice of these remarks, but turned to Robin, who, with a look of deep anxiety, said—

"Have 'ee seed the childer, Wapaw?"

"They are safe," answered the Indian.

"Thank God for that!" cried Robin, while a sigh of relief burst from him: "I believe ye, Wapaw, yer a true man an' wouldn't tell me a lie, would ye?"

The tone in which the hunter said this implied that the statement was scarcely a true index to his feelings, and that he would be glad to hear Wapaw assure him that he was indeed telling the truth. But this Indian was a man of truthfulness, and did not deem it necessary to repeat his assertion. He said, however, that he would go and fetch the children, and immediately quitted the camp. Soon after he returned with Roy and Nelly; he had not told them, however, who the strangers were.

When Roy first caught sight of his father he gave a shout of surprise, and stood still as if he were bewildered. Nelly uttered a wild scream, and rushed forward with outstretched arms. Robin met her more than half way, and the next moment folded his long-lost little one to his bosom.



CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

AT SILVER LAKE ONCE MORE.

It were needless to detail all that was said and done during the remainder of that night, or, rather, morning, for day began to break soon after the happy meeting narrated in the last chapter. It would require more space than we can afford to tell of all that was said and done; how Robin embraced his children over and over again in the strength of his love, and thanked God in the fervour of his gratitude; how Roy and Nelly were eager to relate all that had befallen them since they were carried away into captivity, in a much shorter time than such a long story could by any possibility be told; how Walter rendered the telling of it much more difficult by frequent interruptions with eager questions, which induced divergencies from which the tale-tellers forgot to return to the points where the interruptions occurred; how Larry O'Dowd complicated matters by sometimes volunteering anecdotes of his own, illustrative of points similar to those which were being related; how Slugs always cut these anecdotes short with a facetious poke in the ribs, which caused Larry to howl; how Stiff rendered confusion worse confounded by trying to cook some breakfast, and by upsetting the whole affair into the fire; and how the children themselves broke in on their own discourse continually with sudden and enthusiastic questions as to the health of their mother and the welfare of the live stock at Fort Enterprise.

All this cannot be described, therefore we leave it to the vivid imagination of the reader.

"Now, comrades," said Robin, after the sun had risen, after breakfast had been and eaten, after every incident had been related at least twice over, and after every conceivable question had been asked four or five times—"now, comrades, it remains for us to fix what we'll do."

"To the Fort," said Larry O'Dowd abruptly.

"Ay—home!" cried Walter.

"Oh yes—home—home!" exclaimed Roy and Nelly in the same breath.

"Ditto," observed Obadiah Stiff.

Slugs and the Black Swan, being men of few words, said nothing, but nodded approval.

"Well, it's quite plain that we're all of one mind," resumed Robin; "nevertheless, there are one or two points to which I ax yer attention. In the first place, it's now near the end of November. Fort Enterprise, in a straight line, is more nor three weeks' march from hereaway. Our provisions is low. When I left the Fort provisions was low there too, an' if my brother Jeff ha'nt had more nor his usual luck in huntin' they'll be lower yet before long. Now, I think it would be better to go back to Silver Lake for a week or so, hunt an' fish there till we've got a good supply, make noo sleds, load 'em chock full, an' then—ho! for home. What say ye to that, comrades?"

As every one assented readily to this plan, they proceeded at once to carry it into execution. At first, indeed, Nelly looked a little disappointed, saying that she wanted to get to her darling mother without delay; but, on Walter pointing out to her that it would only delay matters a week or so, and that it would enable the whole party to rest and recruit, and give Wapaw time to recover thoroughly from his wounds, she became reconciled, and put on her snow-shoes to return to Silver Lake with some degree of cheerfulness; and when, in the course of that day's walk, she began to tell her father of all the beauties and wonders of Silver Lake, she was not only reconciled but delighted to return.

"O father!" said she, as they walked briskly through the forest, "you've no notion what a beautiful place Silver Lake is. It's so clear, and so—so—oh! I don't know how to tell you; so like the fairy places Walter used to tell us of, with clear water and high cliffs, and the clouds shining up at the clouds shining down, and two suns—one below and another above. And then the hut! we made it all ourselves."

"What! made the trees and all?" said Robin, with a smile.

"No, of course not the trees; but we cut the trees and piled 'em up, and spread the brush-wood, and—and—then the fish! we caught such big ones."

"How big, Nelly?"

"Oh, ever so big!"

"How big may that be?"

"Well, some were so long," (measuring off the size on her arm,) "an' some near as long as my leg—an' they were good to eat too—no good! you've no notion; but you'll see and taste 'em too. Then there's the shooskin'! Did you ever shoosk, father?"

"No, lass—leastways I don't remember, if I did."

"But you know what it is?"

"To be sure, Nelly; ha'nt I seed ye do it often on the slopes at Fort Enterprise?"

"Well, the shooskin' here is far, far better. The first time Roy did it, he said it nearly banged all his bones to pieces—yes, he said he felt as if his backbone was shoved up into his brain; and I sometimes thought it would squeeze all my ribs together. Oh, it is so nice! You shall try it, father."

Robin laughed heartily at this, and remarked that he would be very glad to try it, though he had no particular desire to have his ribs squeezed together, or his backbone shoved up into his brain!

Then Nelly went on with great animation and volubility to tell of the trapping of the bear, and the snaring of rabbits, and the catching of fish, and of Roy's peculiar method of wading into the lake for ducks, and many other things.

Roy, meanwhile, entertained Walter and Larry O'Dowd with a somewhat similar account of their doings during the months of their residence in that wild region; and thus the journey was beguiled, so that the time seemed to pass on swallows' wings.

Towards evening the party approached the spot where Silver Lake had first burst upon the enraptured gaze of the wandering pair. As they drew near, Roy and Nelly hurried on in advance, and, mounting the fallen tree on which they had formerly rested, waved to the others to come on, and shouted for glee. And well might they shout, for the evening happened to be brighter and calmer, if possible, than the one on which they first saw the lake. The rolling clouds were whiter, too, and the waters looked more silvery than ever.

The exclamations of delight, and the looks of admiration with which the glorious scene was greeted by the hunters when they came up, gratified the hearts of Roy and Nelly very much.

"Oh, how I wish mother was here to see it!" cried Nelly.

"Ain't that a place for a king to live in, daddy?" said Roy, enthusiastically.

"So 'tis, lad, so 'tis—leastwise it's a goodish spot for a hunter. How say you, Slugs?"

Slugs smiled grimly, and nodded his head.

"Would the red man like to pitch his wigwam there?" said Robin, addressing the Black Swan.

"He has pitched his wigwam here before," replied the Black Swan softly. "When he first took the White Swan home to be his mate, he came to hunt here."

"Och! is it the honeymoon ye spint here?" broke in Larry. "Faix, it's a purty spot for courtin', and no mistake. Is that a beehive over there?" he added, pointing across the lake.

"Why that's our hut—our palace," cried Nell, with gleeful look.

"Then the sooner we get down to it, and have supper, the better," observed Walter, "for we'll have to work hard to-morrow."

"Come along, then," cried Robin, "an' go you ahead, Roy; beat the track, and show us the way."

Roy accepted the position of honour. Nelly followed him, and the whole band marched off in single file along the shores of Silver Lake. They soon reached the hut, and here again Nelly found many interesting points to dilate upon. She poured her words into willing and sympathetic ears, so that she monopolised nearly all the talk during the time that Larry O'Dowd was preparing supper.

When that meal was being eaten the conversation became more general. Plans were discussed as to the intended procedure on the morrow, and various courses of action fixed. After that, as a matter of course, the pipes came out, and while these were being smoked, only the talkative members of the party kept up the conversation at intervals. Roy and Nelly having exhausted all they had to say, began to feel desperately sleepy, and the latter, having laid her head on her father's knee, fell sound asleep in that position. Soon the pipes were smoked out, the fire was replenished, the blankets unrolled; and in a very brief period of time the whole party was in a state of happy unconsciousness, with the exception of poor Wapaw, whose wounds made him rather restless, and the Black Swan, whose duty it was to take the first watch; for it was, deemed right to set a watch, lest by any chance the Indians should have followed the hunters' tracks, though this was not probable.

Next morning Robin aroused the sleepers somewhat abruptly by shooting a grey hen with his rifle from the tent door.

"There's breakfast for you and me, Nelly, at any rate," remarked the hunter, as he went down to the lake to secure his bird.

"An' won't there be the bones and feathers for the rest of us?" observed Larry, yawning, "so we won't starve this day, anyhow."

In a few minutes every man was actively engaged in work of some sort or other. Robin and Walter prepared fishing-lines from some pieces of buckskin parchment; Black Swan and Slugs went out to cut wood for making sledges; Stiff repaired the snow-shoes of the party, or rather assisted Nelly in this operation; and Larry attended to the preparation of breakfast. Wapaw was the only one who lay still, it being thought better to make him rest, and get strong for the approaching journey.

During the course of the day the lines were tried, and a good number of fish caught. Slugs also went off in search of deer, and returned in the evening with a large stag on his broad shoulders. This raised the spirits of the party greatly, and they feasted that night, with much rejoicing, on venison, marrowbones, and broiled fish!

Thus they spent their time for several days. One party went regularly every morning to fish in the ice-holes; another party roamed the woods, and returned with grouse, or rabbits, and sometimes with deer; while some remained, part of the day at least, in the hut, mending snow-shoes and moccasins, and making other preparations.

In the midst of all this busy labour, the shoosking was not forgotten. One day Robin said to his little daughter, at breakfast, that as they had got nearly enough of provisions for the journey they would take a holiday and go and have a shoosk. The proposal was hailed with delight, and the whole party went off with the new sledges, and spent the forenoon in sliding and tumbling down the hills like very children.

At last everything was ready for a start. The provisions were tightly fastened on the sledges, which were to be drawn by each of the men in turn. Snow-shoes were put on, guns and bows looked to and shouldered, and on a bright, frosty December morning the hunters left the hut, struck into the woods, and set out for Fort Enterprise.

At the top of the slope, beside the fallen tree, they stopped with one consent and gazed back; and there Nelly took her last sad look at Silver Lake, and sorrowfully said her last farewell.



CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

THE HAPPIEST MEETING OF ALL.

The snow was driving through the forests and over the plains of the North American wilderness; the wind was shrieking among the tree-tops, and whirling the drift in great clouds high up into the frosty air; and the sun was setting in a glow of fiery red, when, on the last day of the year, Robin Gore and his followers came to an abrupt halt, and, with one consent, admitted that "the thing was impossible."