y reached the little cave for which Fritz was
heading, and where they felt that for the moment at least they were
safe, he could only throw himself along the ground in an agony of
grief and physical exhaustion: whilst the hardier Fritz bathed the
wounds of their unfortunate comrade, binding them up with no small
skill, and refreshing him with draughts of water from the pool hard
by, which was all the sick man desired at this moment.

All three comrades were exhausted to the uttermost, and for a long
while nothing broke the silence of the dim place save the
long-drawn, gasping sobs of the lad. Gradually these died away into
silence, and Fritz saw that both his companions slept--the fitful
sleep of overwrought nature. Yet he was thankful even for that.
Moving softly about he lighted a fire, and having captured one of
the wild turkeys which were plentiful in the forest at that season,
he proceeded to prepare a meal for them when they should awake.

Roche slept on and on, as the young will do when nature has been
tried to her extreme limits; but Pringle presently opened his eyes,
and looked feebly about him.

Fritz had a little weak broth to offer him by that time, and after
drinking it the Captain looked a little less wan and ghastly.

"Where are we?" he asked, in a weak voice; "and how many are there
of us?"

"We have only Roche with us. We have been in the forest since the
sortie when we cut our way out. We met you the next day with half a
dozen Indians at your heels. We know nothing save what you have
spoken of treachery and massacre. Can it be true that the French
permitted such abominations? The forest was ringing with the Indian
war whoops and the screams of their wretched victims!"

A shudder ran through Pringle's frame.

"It is too true," he said; "it is horrible--unspeakably horrible!
Yet we must not blame the French too much. They did what they could
to prevent it. Indeed, I heard the Marquis de Montcalm himself
bidding the Indians kill him, but spare the English garrison, which
had surrendered, and had been promised all the honours of war and a
safe escort to Fort Edward."

"If men will stoop to use fiends to do their work," said Fritz
sternly, "they must expect to be disgraced and defied by these
fiends, over whom they have no sort of influence. If men will use
unworthy instruments, they must take the consequences."

"Yes; but the consequences have been the massacre of our hapless
sick and wounded,