they jogged on, a very vegetable existence, till thought at last was
stagnating in their brains, and O'Flaherty half envied his companion's
resource in the spirit flask.

Such was the state of affairs at the Fort, when one evening O'Flaherty
appeared to pace the little rampart that looked towards Lake Ontario,
with an appearance of anxiety and impatience strangely at variance with
his daily phlegmatic look. It seemed that the corporal's party he had
despatched that morning to forage, near the "Falls," had not returned,
and already were four hours later than their time away.

Every imaginable mode of accounting for their absence suggested itself to
his mind. Sometimes he feared that they had been attacked by the Indian
hunters, who were far from favourably disposed towards their poaching
neighbours. Then, again, it might be merely that they had missed their
track in the forest; or could it be that they had ventured to reach Goat
Island in a canoe, and had been carried down the rapids. Such were the
torturing doubts that passed as some shrill squirrel, or hoarse night owl
pierced the air with a cry, and then all was silent again. While thus
the hours went slowly by, his attention was attracted by a bright light
in the sky. It appeared as if part of the heavens were reflecting some
strong glare from beneath, for as he looked, the light, at first pale and
colourless, gradually deepened into a rich mellow hue, and at length,
through the murky blackness of the night, a strong clear current of flame
rose steadily upwards from the earth, and pointed towards the sky. From
the direction, it must have been either at the Falls, or immediately near
them; and now the horrible conviction flashed upon his mind that the
party had been waylaid by the Indians, who were, as is their custom,
making a war feast over their victims.