Humphrey's throat, which he hastily swallowed down, as he advanced
with great strides to meet them.

"You are welcome," he said. "I had thought the Indians had left no
living beings behind them in all this forest save my brother and
myself."

No introductions were needed in this savage place; the face of
every white man lit up at sight of a like countenance, and at the
sound of the familiar tongue. The men shook hands with a hearty
grip, and one said to Humphrey:

"You have had Indians here?"

Humphrey made an expressive gesture with his hand.

"This was a week ago as fair a holding as heart of man could wish
to see in this grim forest. You see what is left today!"

"Your house is burnt down, as we plainly see. Have you lost aught
beside? Has human blood been spilt?"

"The corpse of my venerable father, and that of a bold baby boy,
lie beneath yon heap of ruins which made their funeral pyre. In
yonder grave lie the mingled corpses of my brother's wife and four
fair children, hacked to death and half burnt by the savages. And
yet this work is not the work of savages alone. With them we have
dwelt at peace these many years. The shame, the horror, the
disgrace of it is that we owe these horrors to the white sons of
France, who hound on the savages to make these raids, and stand by