ted the pilot to start the steamer, and head her up
the river, as we dragged the barge on deck.

"But we can't go up these small streams," he added.

"The Indians cannot have gone far, and the water is deep for several
miles," replied Mr. Gracewood.

"I will do the best I can. We have a detachment of troops which I am to
land at your yard, Phil," continued the captain.

"I'm glad to hear that. The Indians will give us no peace until they
have been punished for the mischief they have done."

"Did you say this gentleman was Ella's father?" asked the captain,
pointing to Mr. Gracewood, who had gone to the bow of the boat, and was
on the lookout for the Indians.

I told him all that had transpired since we met the evening before,
including the capture of Ella.

"If he is Ella's father, his wife is on board," said the captain. "I
suppose I must tell her what has happened to her daughter; but I don't
like to do it."

As he left me to perform this unpleasant duty, I saw two ladies and
three gentlemen, two of them officers, coming down the steps from the
boiler deck. I inferred that one of these ladies was the mother of
Ella. She had evidently received an intimation that something had
occurred to her daughter, for she was very much disturbed.

"What has happened, Captain Davis? Where is Ella?" she demanded, in
broken tones.

"I am sorry to say that the news is not as pleasant as I could wish,"
replied the captain.

"Where is she?" cried Mrs. Gracewood.

"Her father is here, and----"

"Her father!" exclaimed the anxious mother.

Mr. Gracewood, whose attention was attracted by the sound of her voice,
came up to the group, and was instantly recognized by his wife.

"O, Henry!" gasped she. "Forgive me!"

"Nay, I ask to be forgiven," he replied, choking with emotion.

Without any explanation or terms whatever, the reconciliation seemed to
be perfect.

"This must be a sad meeting, Emily, for I fear that Ella is lost to
us."

"Where is she?" demanded Mrs. Gracewood.

"In the hands of the Indians," replied the suffering father.

"O, mercy! mercy!" groaned the poor mother. "They will kill her!"

"Let us hope not," replied Mr. Gracewood, struggling to repress his
emotions.

But this intelligence was too heavy for the strength of the poor lady,
and she was borne fainting up the stairs to the saloon. Mr. Gracewood
assisted in this duty, and I was left to give the military officers the
information they needed.