begun, nothing had been done for the protection of
the hapless people now becoming an easy prey of the Indians stirred
up to molest them.

Humphrey knew none of their neighbours. Forest travelling was too
difficult and dangerous to tempt the settler far away from his own
holding. If it were one of these coming now, most likely he too had
suffered from attack or fear of attack, and was seeking a friend in
the nearest locality.

He stood like one spellbound, watching and waiting. The sound of
steps drew nearer to the fringe of obscuring forest trees; the
sound of voices became plainer and more plain. In another minute
Humphrey saw them--two bronzed and stalwart men--advancing from the
wood into the clearing. They came upon it unawares, as was plain
from their sudden pause. But they were white men; they were
brothers in this wild land. There was something like a sob in
Humphrey's throat, which he hastily swallowed down, as he advanced
with great strides to meet them.

"You are welcome," he said. "I had thought the Indians had left no
living beings behind them in all this forest save my brother and
myself."

No introductions were needed in this savage place; the face of
every white man lit up at sight of a like countenance, and at the
sound of the familiar tongue. The men shook hands with a hearty
grip, and one said to Humphrey:

"You have had Indians here?"

Humphrey made an expressive gesture with his hand.

"This was a week ago as fair a holding as heart of man could wish
to see in this grim forest. You see what is left today!"

"Your house is burnt down, as we plainly see. Have you lost aught
beside? Has human blood been spilt?"

"The corpse of my venerable father, and that of a bold baby boy,
lie beneath yon heap of ruins which made their funeral pyre. In
yonder grave lie the mingled corpses of my brother's wife and four
fair children, hacked to death and half burnt by the savages. And
yet this work is not the work of savages alone. With them we have
dwelt at peace these many years. The shame, the horror, the
disgrace of it is that we owe these horrors to the white sons of
France, who hound on the savages to make these raids, and stand by
to see them do their bloody work!"

The two strangers exchanged glances--meaning glances--and one of
them laid a hand upon Humphrey's shoulder, looking earnestly into
his eyes the while.

"Is it so in very truth? So have we heard in whispers, but it was a
thing we co