was enough to curdle the blood of the stoutest hearted, and freeze
with horror the bravest warrior.

Humphrey was no warrior, but a strong-limbed, tender-hearted youth;
and as he looked at the awful scene before him, a blood-red mist
seemed to swim before his eyes. He gasped, and clutched at the
nearest tree trunk for support. Surely, surely it was some fever
dream which had come upon him. It could not, it should not be a
terrible reality.

"Humphrey, Humphrey! help, help!"

It was the strangled, muffled cry again. The sound woke the young
man from his trance of horror and amazement. He uttered a hoarse
cry, which he scarcely knew for his own, and dashed blindly
onwards.

"Here, here! This way. By the barn! Quick!"

No need to hasten Humphrey's flying feet. He rushed through the
trampled fields. He gained the clearing about the house and its
buildings. He reached the spot indicated, and saw a sight he would
never forget.

His brother Charles was tightly, cruelly bound to the stump of a
tree which had been often used for tethering animals at milking
time just outside the barn. His clothes were half torn from off his
back, and several gaping, bleeding wounds told of the fight which
had ended in his capture. Most significant of all was the long
semicircular red line round the brow, where the scalping knife had