hat colour they might. I
see your grand'ther was just, and did his duty, too, by his offspring!
'Twas a perilous time he had of it, among them hills, and nobly did
he play his own part! Tell me, lad, or officer, I should say,--since
officer you be,--was this all?"

"Certainly not; it was, as I have said, a fearful tale, full of
moving incidents, and the memories both of my grandfather and of my
grandmother--"

"Ah!" exclaimed the trapper, tossing a hand into the air as his whole
countenance lighted with the recollections the name revived. "They
called her Alice! Elsie or Alice; 'tis all the same. A laughing, playful
child she was, when happy; and tender and weeping in her misery! Her
hair was shining and yellow, as the coat of the young fawn, and her
skin clearer than the purest water that drips from the rock. Well do I
remember her! I remember her right well!"

The lip of the youth slightly curled, and he regarded the old man with
an expression, which might easily have been construed into a declaration
that such were not his own recollections of his venerable and revered
ancestor, though it would seem he did not think it necessary to say as
much in words. He was content to answer--

"They both retained impressions of the dangers they had passed, by
far too vivid easily to lose the recollection of any of their
fellow-actors."

The trapper looked aside, and seemed to struggle with some deeply innate
feeling; then, turning again towards his companion, though his honest
eyes no longer dwelt with the same open interest, as before, on the
countenance of the other, he continued--

"Did he tell you of them all? Were they all red-skins, but himself and
the daughters of Munro?"

"No. There was a white man associated with the Delawares. A scout of the
English army, but a native of the provinces."

"A drunken worthless vagabond, like most of his colour who harbour with
the savages, I warrant you!"

"Old man, your grey hairs should caution you against slander. The man I
speak of was of great simplicity of mind, but of sterling worth. Unlike
most of those who live a border life, he united the better, instead of
the worst, qualities of the two people. He was a man endowed with the
choicest and perhaps rarest gift of nature; that of distinguishing good
from evil. His virtues were those of simplicity, because such were the
fruits of his habits, as were indeed his very prejudices. In courage
he was the equal of his red assoc