but one who had never shown any desire after adventure or the
chances of warfare. He was ten years older than Humphrey; and the
brothers had two sisters now married and settled in the colony. The
younger brother sometimes talked of visiting the sisters, and
bringing back news of them to the father at home; but Charles never
desired to leave the homestead. He was a singularly affectionate
husband and father, and had been an excellent son to the fine old
man, who now had his time of ease by the hearth in the winter
weather, though during a great part of the year he toiled in the
fields with a right good will, and with much of his old fire and
energy.

Humphrey was nearing home now, and started whistling a favourite
air which generally heralded his approach, and brought the children
tumbling out to meet him in a rush of merry welcome. But there was
no answering hubbub to be heard from the direction of the house, no
patter of little feet, no lowing of kine.

Humphrey stopped suddenly short in his whistling, and bent his ear
forward as though to listen. A faint, muffled, strangled cry seemed
to be borne to his ears. Under his bronze his face suddenly grew
white. He flung the heavy bag from off his back, and grasping his
gun more firmly in his hands, he rushed through the narrow pathway;
and came out upon the clearing around the little farmstead.

In the morning he had left it, smiling in the autumn sunshine, a
peaceful, prosperous-looking place, homely, quaint, and bright. Now
his eyes rested upon a heap of smoking ruins, trampled crops, empty
sheds; and upon a still more horrible sight--the remains of mangled
corpses tied to the group of trees which sheltered the porch. It