e, the others were
starving. The former accounted for this, however, by saying that they
had fallen in with a deer not long ago; but that, before this had
happened, all the rest of the family had died of starvation.

It was the party who had met the two Indians wandering in the plains
that now sat round the fire relating the story to Mr Carles.

The tale was still telling when the hall door slowly opened, and
Wisagun, gaunt and cadaverous, the very impersonation of famine, slunk
into the room, along with Natappe, and seated himself in a corner near
the fire. Mr Carles soon obtained from his own lips confirmation of
the horrible deed, which he excused by saying that _most_ of his
relations had died before he ate them.

In a few days after this, the party of Indians took their departure from
the house, to proceed to their village in the forest; and shortly after
Wisagun and Natappe also left, to rejoin their tribe. The news of their
deeds, however, had preceded them, so they were received very coldly;
and soon after Wisagun pitched his tent, the other Indians removed, with
one accord, to another place, as though it were impossible to live
happily under the shadow of the same trees. This exasperated Wisagun so
much that he packed up his tent and goods, launched his canoe, and then,
before starting, went up to the village, and told them it was true he
had killed all his relatives; and that he was a conjurer, and had both
power and inclination to conjure them to death too. He then strode down
to the banks of the river, and, embarking with his son, shot out into
the stream. The unhappy man had acted rashly in his wrath. There is
nothing more dangerous than to threaten to kill a savage, as he will
certainly endeavour to kill the person who threatens him, in order to
render the execution of his purpose impossible. Wisagun and his son had
no sooner departed than two men coolly took up their guns, entered a
canoe, and followed them. Upon arriving at a secluded spot, one of them
raised his gun and fired at Wisagun, who fell over the side of the
canoe, and sank to rise no more. With the rapidity of thought, Natappe
seized his father's gun, sprang ashore, and bounded up the bank; a shot
was fired which went through the fleshy part of his arm, and the next
moment he was behind a tree. Here he called out to the Indians, who
were reloading their guns, not to kill him, and he would tell them all.
After a little consideratio