orward with Captain
Sinclair, and Malachi, and John. Let Percival be put in the middle of
the remainder of the party, who must follow afterwards, and then be
taken up to Malachi's lodge. He can remain there with the Strawberry
until we come and fetch him."

Having made this arrangement, to which Percival was with difficulty made
to agree, they walked up, as proposed, to the house. Outside of the
palisade, they perceived Mr and Mrs Campbell, with their backs towards
them, looking towards the forest, in the direction which the party had
taken when they left. But when they were half-way from the beach, Henry
came out with Oscar from the cottage, and the dog immediately perceiving
them, bounded to them, barking with delight. Henry cried out, "Father--
mother, here they are,--here they come." Mr and Mrs Campbell of
course turned round, and beheld the party advancing; they flew to meet
them, and as they caught Mary in their arms, all explanation was for a
time unnecessary--she was recovered, and that was sufficient for the
time.

"Come, mother, let us go into the house, that you may compose yourself a
little," said Alfred,--that she might not perceive Percival among the
party that followed at a little distance. "Let me support you. Take my
arm."

Mrs Campbell, who trembled very much, did so, and thus turned away from
the group among whom Percival was walking. Emma was looking at them
attentively, and was about to exclaim, when Captain Sinclair put his
finger to his lips.

As soon as they arrived at the house, and had gone in, Alfred, in a few
words, gave them an account of what had passed--how successful they had
been in their attempt, and how little they had to fear from the Indians
in future.

"How grateful I am!" exclaimed Mrs Campbell. "God be praised for all
His mercies! I was fearful that I should have lost you, my dear Mary,
as well as my poor boy. He is lost for ever; but God's will be done."

"It is very strange, mother," said Alfred, "but we heard, on our
journey, that the Indians had found a white boy in the woods."

"Alas! not mine."

"I have reason to believe that it was Percival, my dear mother, and have
hopes that he is yet alive."

"My dear Alfred, do not say so unless you have good cause; you little
know the yearnings of a mother's heart; the very suggestion of such a
hope has thrown me into a state of agitation and nervousness of which
you can form no conception. I have been reconcil