trampling that I mistook for
the falls--and--but here they come themselves; God keep them from the
Iroquois!"

CHAPTER 4

"Well go thy way: thou shalt not from this grove
Till I torment thee for this injury."--Midsummer Night's Dream.

The words were still in the mouth of the scout, when the leader of the
party, whose approaching footsteps had caught the vigilant ear of the
Indian, came openly into view. A beaten path, such as those made by the
periodical passage of the deer, wound through a little glen at no great
distance, and struck the river at the point where the white man and his
red companions had posted themselves. Along this track the travelers,
who had produced a surprise so unusual in the depths of the forest,
advanced slowly toward the hunter, who was in front of his associates,
in readiness to receive them.

"Who comes?" demanded the scout, throwing his rifle carelessly across
his left arm, and keeping the forefinger of his right hand on the
trigger, though he avoided all appearance of menace in the act. "Who
comes hither, among the beasts and dangers of the wilderness?"

"Believers in religion, and friends to the law and to the king,"
returned he who rode foremost. "Men who have journeyed since the rising
sun, in the shades of this forest, without nourishment, and are sadly
tired of their wayfaring."

"You are, then, lost," interrupted the hunter, "and have found how
helpless 'tis not to know whether to take the right hand or the left?"

"Even so; sucking babes are not more dependent on those who guide them
than we who are of larger growth, and who may now be said to possess the
stature without the knowledge of men. Know you the distance to a post of
the crown called William Henry?"

"Hoot!" shouted the scout, who did not spare his open laughter, though
instantly checking the dangerous sounds he indulged his merriment at
less risk of being overheard by any lurking enemies. "You are as much
off the scent as a hound would be, with Horican atwixt him and the deer!
William Henry, man! if you are friends to the king and have business
with the army, your way would be to follow the river down to Edward, and
lay the matter before Webb, who tarries there, instead of pushing into
the defiles, and driving this saucy Frenchman back across Champlain,
into his den again."

Before the stranger could make any reply to this unexpected proposition,
another horseman dashed the bushes aside, and lea