within, and
they felt reluctant to disturb the awful silence. The pause, however,
was but momentary. Reuben lifted the covering and opened it wide. A
small fire still burned on the hearth in the centre of the lodge; around
it lay the bodies of dead men, women, and children. Only one figure,
that of an old woman, remained in a half-reclining position, but she was
motionless, and they thought her dead also. This, however, was not the
case. The flood of light which streamed in on her appeared to rouse
her, for she raised her grey head, and, gazing anxiously at the figures
which darkened the entrance of the lodge, asked in a tremulous voice:
"Is that you, my son?"

"No, mother, but it is a friend," said Swiftarrow, who understood her
language.

"A friend," repeated the old woman, shaking her head slowly, "I don't
want a friend. The Master of Life is my friend. My people said that an
evil spirit was slaying them; but I know better. It was the Great
Spirit who came to us. We have been very wicked. We needed punishment.
But why has He spared me? I was the worst of them all."

There was something terrible in the tone and manner in which this was
uttered, as if the breast of the speaker were torn with conflicting
feelings.

"She must have met wi' the missionaries some time or other," whispered
Reuben.

"Is the old woman the only one of all the tribe left alive?" asked
Swiftarrow.

"Ay, the only one--no, not the _only_ one; my son is yet alive. He went
to set a bear-trap not _very_ long since; but he should have come back
before now. He will be back soon."

The deep sigh which followed proved that the poor old woman was hoping
against hope.

"How long is't since he left you, mother?" asked Lawrence eagerly.

"Two suns have risen and set since he left, and he had not far to go."

"Father, I'll go seek for this man," said Lawrence; "something may have
befallen him."

Reuben made no objection, and the youth set off immediately in a
direction which was pointed out by the old woman.

After he was gone his father and the Indian shifted one of the cleanest
looking of the empty tents to a considerable distance from the spot
where the terrible work of death had been done, and removing the old
woman from the neighbourhood of the pestilential atmosphere, placed her
therein, kindled a fire and cooked her a little food, of which she
evidently stood much in need.

Meanwhile Lawrence sped through the pathless for