his arm tingling; he felt the hot blood surging through his veins.
He was conscious that were an enemy to show face at that moment
between the trees of the forest, he would be ready to spring upon
him like a wild beast, and rend him limb from limb without pity and
without remorse.

But the Indians had made off as silently and as swiftly as they
appeared. Not a vestige of the band remained behind. And there was
work for the brothers at that moment of a different sort, and work
which left its lasting mark upon the memory and even upon the
nature of Humphrey Angell.

Together the brothers dug a deep grave. Reverently they deposited
in it all that was left of the mortal remains of those whom they
had loved so tenderly and well: the kindly house mother, to whose
industry and thrift so much of their comfort had been due; the
little, innocent, prattling children and brave little lads, who
were already learning to be useful to father and mother. None of
them spared--no pity shown to sex or age. All ruthlessly murdered;
husband and father forced to watch the horrid spectacle, himself a
helpless prisoner, waiting for his doom.

Humphrey had not hitherto dared to ask the question which had been
exercising him all the while--how it was that his brother's life
had been spared. He also wanted to know where the old man their
father was; for the corpses they had laid in the grave were those
of Charles's wife and children.

Charles noted his questioning glance around when the grave had
received its victims, and he pointed to the smoking ruins of the