wherever I go. I will hunt out mine enemy until I compass his
death. They have despoiled me of home, of wife, of children. They
have taken away all the joy of life. The light of my eyes is gone.
Henceforth I have but one thing to live for. I bare my sword
against France. Against her will I fight until the Lord gives us
the victory. The world shall know, and all ears shall tingle at the
tale which I will tell. There shall be no quarter, no pity for
those who use such means as those which have left me what I am
tonight!"

Humphrey could not marvel at the intensity of the ferocity in
Charles's tones. It sounded strange in one of so gentle and
placable a nature; but he had cause--he had cause!

"Think you that the man was other than one of those wild fellows
who run from all law and order in the townships and become denizens
of the wood, and little better than the wild Indians themselves?
We. have heard of these coureurs de bois, as they are called. There
are laws passed against them, severe and restrictive, by their own
people. Perchance it were scarce just to the French to credit them
with all that this man has done."

"Peace, Humphrey," was the stern reply. "We know that the French
are inciting the Indians against our peaceful settlers, and that
what has happened here today is happening in other places along our
scattered frontier. The work is the work of France, and against
France will I fight till she is overthrown. I have sworn it. Seek
not to turn me from my purpose. I will fight, and fight, and fight
till I see her lying in the dust, and till I have met mine enemy
face to face and have set my foot upon his neck. God has heard my
vow; He will fight for me till it be fulfilled."

Chapter 2: Friends In Need.

It was not to be surprised at that, after that terrible day and
night, Charles should awake from the restless sleep into which he
had dropped towards dawn in a state of high fever.

He lay raving in delirium for three days, whilst Humphrey sat
beside him, putting water to his parched lips, striving to soothe
and quiet him; often shuddering with horror as he seemed to see
again with his brother's eyes those horrid scenes upon which the
fevered man's fancy ever dwelt; waking sometimes at night in a
sweat of terror, thinking he heard the Indian war whoop echoing
through the forest.

Those were terrible days for Humphrey--days of a loneliness that
was beyond anything he had experienced before. His brot