act with the dead, I crept back
among the bodies in eager search for gun and ammunition. For a long time
I sought vainly; the field had been stripped by many a vandal hand. At
last, however, I turned over a painted giant of a savage whose head had
been crushed with a blow, and beneath him discovered a long rifle with
powder-horn half filled. As I drew it forth, uttering a cry of delight
at my precious find, my eyes fell upon a pair of bronze boots, with long
narrow toes, protruding from beneath a tangled mass of the slain. It was
no doubt the tomb of De Croix; and without so much as a thought that he
could be alive, I drew the bodies off him and dragged his form forth into
the sunlight.

Merciful Heaven! his heart still beat,--so faintly, indeed, that I could
barely note it with my ear at his chest. But life was surely there, and
with a hasty glance about to assure me that I was unobserved, I ran to
the lake shore. I returned with hat full of water, with which I
thoroughly drenched him, rubbing his numbed hands fiercely, and thumping
his chest until at last the closed eyes partially opened, and he looked
up into my anxious face, gasping painfully for breath. His lips moved as
I lifted his head in my arms; and I bent lower, not certain but he was
dying and had some last message he would whisper in my ear.

"Wayland," he faltered feebly, "is this you? Lord, how my head aches!
Send Sam to me with the hand-mirror and the perfumed soap."

"Hush!" I answered, almost angry at his flippant utterance. "Sam is no
doubt dead, and you and I alone are spared of all the company. Do you
suffer greatly? Think you it would be possible to walk?"

"I have much pain here in the side," he said slowly, "and am yet weak
from loss of blood. All dead, you say? Is Toinette dead?"

"I know not, but I have not found her body among the others, and believe
her to be a prisoner to the savages. But, come, De Croix," I urged,
anxiously, "we run great risk loitering here; there is but one safe spot
for us until after dark,--yonder, crouched in the waters of the lake.
The Indians may return at any moment to complete their foul work; and for
us to be found alive means torture,--most likely the stake,--and will
remove the last hope for Mademoiselle. Think you it can be made if you
lean hard on me?"

"_Sacre_! 't will not be because I do not try, Master Wayland," he
answered, his voice stronger now that he could breathe more freely, and