ight; that will be enough for a
start, and it will bring us to good camping ground. I think we had
better do the greater part of our work by night, and rest and sleep
during the heat of the day. We shall do more, besides escaping notice
in case there should be any scouts, either white or red, or marauding
parties prowling about, as is sometimes the case near the border."

"I should have thought there was small chance of meeting any one in
these interminable woods, through which, as a matter of taste, I should
prefer to travel by daylight," replied Isidore. "Indeed, I am rather
thankful for the bright moonlight we seem likely to have, and wish we
had a few more of such open glades as the one we have just crossed; it
would be more agreeable--at least to me."

They had re-entered the wood, and had not proceeded very far when they
came to a spot that would have been particularly dark owing to the
great size of the trees and their closeness to each other, but for the
few gleams of moonlight that found their way even through the dense
foliage and lighted up a branch here and there with a strange and
almost supernatural brightness. Suddenly the guide stopped, and
slightly raising his hand as if to keep back his companion, gazed
intently for a moment at a good-sized button-wood tree that stood at a
distance of about thirty yards, but somewhat out of their course.
Following the direction of the Canadian's eyes, Isidore looked
wonderingly at the tree, when suddenly he saw a dark shapeless object
drop from one of the lower branches. He expected of course to see it
lying on the ground beneath the tree, but not a trace of it was
visible; it seemed as if the earth had swallowed up the big dark thing,
whatever it might have been.

The guide, who had half raised his rifle, now lowered it again. "The
rascal has got off this time," said he, "but who would have expected to
come across a red skin hereabouts just now? Stop a bit! Depend upon
it, this is the same fellow who was found skulking about the general's
head-quarters this evening. Yes, he is dogging our steps, and we shall
hear more of him before we get to Chambly."

There was something about this announcement that was not at all
pleasant to Boulanger's companion. He might be brave as a lion and
cool enough in fair open fight, but the idea of being the object of a
planned attack by Indian savages in the depths of a lonely American
forest somewhat disconcerted him, and