nd massive timbers and stout palisades.

Under these conditions and amid such scenes, in the year 1743, when
Tawtry House was still sweet-scented with odors of the forest from
which it had been so recently hewn, was born Donald Hester, as sturdy a
young American as ever kicked in swaddling clothes, and the hero of
this tale of the forest.

On the midsummer evening with which our story opens, Major Hester and
his wife walked, hand in hand, beyond the palisades of their fortress
home, enjoying the marvellous beauty of their surroundings and talking
of many things. Already had this wilderness home become very dear to
them; for, representing years of toil and privation as it did, it was
their very own and the heritage of their boy, now two years of age, who
toddled behind them in charge of a ruddy-cheeked Scotch nurse. While
they rejoiced over what had been accomplished, they planned for the
future, and discussed the details of many projected improvements. At
the outlet of the lake a grist-mill should be built, and the low lands
beyond should be drained to afford increased pasturage for their
multiplying herd.

As they talked there came a sound from the forest depths that caused
them to pause and listen. Borne faintly on the evening breeze, was a
distant firing of guns, and they fancied that it was accompanied by a
confusion of yells from human throats.

"Oh, Graham! what can it mean?" exclaimed Mrs. Hester, as she clasped
her husband's arm and glanced instinctively back, to make sure of the
safety of her child.

"Nothing that need alarm you, my dear," answered the major,
reassuringly. "It is only a token of some jollification among our
Indian friends: a war dance, or a scalp dance, or the advent among them
of a new lot of wretched captives, or something of that kind. I
remember Truman mentioning, more than a week ago, that another war
party had gone out. I do wish though that the Senecas would take it
into their heads to move their village farther away. I used to think
five miles quite a respectable distance, but now--"

"I would that this horrible fighting were ended," interrupted Mrs.
Hester. "Will not the time ever come, Graham, when these poor heathen
will cease from their dreadful wars, and live at peace with each other,
like civilized beings?"

"Like civilized beings, my dear?" laughed Major Hester. "Yes, I think
I may safely prophesy that if the time ever comes when those nations
which we call civ