steel for his purpose, he put on his snowshoes, and
advanced toward the point from which the column of smoke had risen.

He had never been more cautious and wary than he was now. He was a
formidable figure in the darkness, crouched forward, and moving like
some spirit of the wilderness, half walking, half gliding.

Although the night had come out rather clear, with many cold stars
twinkling in the blue, the line of smoke was no longer visible. But
Henry did not expect it to be, nor did he need it. He had marked its
base too clearly in his mind to make any mistake, and he advanced with
certainty. He came presently into an open space, and he stopped with
amazement. Around him were the stumps of a clearing made recently, and
near him were some yards of rough rail fence.

He crouched against the fence, and saw on the far side of the clearing
the dim outlines of several buildings, from the chimneys of two of
which smoke was rising. It was his first thought that he had come upon
a little settlement still held by daring borderers, but second thought
told him that it was impossible. Another and more comprehensive look
showed many signs of ruin. He saw remains of several burned houses, but
clothing all was the atmosphere of desolation and decay that tells
when a place is abandoned. The two threads of smoke did not alter this
impression.

Henry divined it all. The builders of this tiny village in the
wilderness bad been massacred or driven away. A part of the houses had
been destroyed, some were left standing, and now there were visitors. He
advanced without noise, keeping behind the rail fence, and approaching
one of the houses from the chimneys of which the smoke came. Here be
crouched a long time, looking and listening attentively; but it seemed
that the visitors had no fears. Why should they, when there was nothing
that they need fear in this frozen wilderness?

Henry stole a little nearer. It had been a snug, trim little settlement.
Perhaps twenty-five or thirty people had lived there, literally hewing
a home out of the forest. His heart throbbed with a fierce hatred and,
anger against those who had spoiled all this, and his gloved finger
crept to the hammer of his rifle.

The night was intensely cold. The mercury was far below zero, and a wind
that had begun to rise cut like the edge of a knife. Even the wariest of
Indians in such desolate weather might fail to keep a watch. But Henry
did not suffer. The fur cap was