married and settled at
Ohio, but misfortune overtook me, floods destroyed my crops, and all the
capital I had saved by years of toil was lost. To regain it I resolved
once more to plunge into the wilderness, and set off, leaving my wife
and infant child with her father. I was as successful as I expected,
and having realised a considerable sum from the furs I had obtained, I
returned to the settlement, expecting to find my wife and child with her
family. On reaching it, bitter was my disappointment to learn that my
father-in-law's farm had been destroyed by a fearful fire which raged
over the country, and that he, taking my wife and child, had set off
with some of his neighbours to migrate westward. A report had been
circulated that I had been killed by the Indians, my wife consequently
had left no message for me. Once more I turned my face westward, hoping
to overtake the train, or to find out where the party had located
themselves. In vain I searched for them, but at length had too certain
evidence that the train had been cut off by Indians, and every person
belonging to it massacred."

"I am afraid in most respects your information was correct," I observed;
and I then told him how on our journey we had come up with a train which
had been destroyed as had the one he spoke of, "though it might not be
the same," I added, "for one person escaped, a little girl, who told us
that her name was Lily."

"Lily!" exclaimed the hunter, "that was the name of my child. Did she
survive? Where is she?"

I replied that she had lived with us ever since as my parents' adopted
daughter. "Indeed my father and mother and Uncle Denis love her as much
as they do any one of us," I added.

"Uncle Denis!" repeated the hunter, and he seemed lost in thought.

"Young man," he said at length, "what is your name?"

"Michael Loraine," I answered.

"And your uncle's surname?"

I told him.

"And they are loving and cherishing my Lily?"

"Yes," I replied; "and there is no being an earth I love so well."

For some minutes the hunter was silent, but I saw that he was much
agitated. At length he asked, in a low voice, "Have you ever heard your
uncle or mother speak of a brother, who came over to America with them?"

"Yes!" I answered, "I was named after him. They both cherish his
memory, and I know that Uncle Denis much blames himself for his conduct
towards him, and would give all he possesses to see him again."

"Are you spea