lowed the Angry Snake."

"I remember it very well; but now, Malachi, read me the letter at once,
for I am very impatient to know what she can have to say."

"I will, Mr Alfred; now, sir, there is the sun more than half up, which
with them points out it is the setting and not the rising sun; the
setting sun therefore means to the westward."

"Very good, that is plain, I think."

"There are twelve wigwams, that is, twelve days' journey for a warrior,
which the Indians reckon at about fifteen miles a day. How much does
fifteen times twelve make, sir?"

"One hundred and eighty, Malachi."

"Well, sir, then that is to say that it is one hundred and eighty miles
off, or thereabouts. Now, this first figure is a chief, for it has an
eagle's feather on the head of it, and the snake before it is his
_totem_, `the Angry Snake,' and the other six are the number of the
band; and you observe, that the chief and the first figure of the six
have a gun in their hands, which is to inform us that they have only two
rifles among them."

"Very true; but what is that little figure following the chief with his
arms behind him?"

"There is the whole mystery of the letter, sir, without which it were
worth nothing. You perceive that the little figure has a pair of
snow-shoes over it."

"Yes, I do."

"Well, that little figure is your brother Percival, whom we supposed to
be dead."

"Merciful heavens! is it possible?" exclaimed Alfred; "then he is
alive!"

"There is no doubt of it, sir," replied Malachi; "and now I will put the
whole letter together. Your brother Percival has been carried off by
the Angry Snake and his band, and has been taken to some place one
hundred and eighty miles to the westward, and this information comes
from the Indian woman who belongs to the band, and whose life was
preserved by your kindness. I don't think, Mr Alfred, that any white
person could have written a letter more plain and more to the purpose."

"I agree with you, Malachi; but the news has so overpowered me, I am so
agitated with joy and anxiety of mind, that I hardly know what I say.
Percival alive! we'll have him if we have to go one thousand miles and
beat two thousand Indians. Oh, how happy it will make my mother! But
what are we to do, Malachi? tell me, I beseech you."

"We must do nothing, sir," replied Malachi.

"Nothing, Malachi!" replied Alfred, with surprise.

"No, sir; nothing at present, at all events. We have the inform