tives and friends so much as the dusky
friends in the forest. He knew that before answers could come to his
letters, he would be dead, or would have succeeded in his efforts. Even
if he should be killed in an abortive attempt, however, he hoped that
his relatives would resume the warfare for the prisoners.

"Where is Cora's father?" he asked himself. "Could I but find the Waters
brothers, I would have two friends and allies to aid me. Oh, Heaven,
give me light! Give me light!"

Charles Stevens, like all true Christians, in this dark hour went to God
for aid. Kneeling, he prayed as he had never prayed before. He seemed to
take hold of the throne of grace and, with a faith strengthened and
renewed, drew inspiration for his desperate resolve from the only living
fountain. Armed with his rifle and pistols, he left the village and went
into the forest. The forest inspires man with reverence and love for
God. The giant trees, the deep glens, the moss and ferns and cool shades
seem to breathe of eternity. Charles Stevens had always loved the dark
old woods, and never had they seemed so friendly as on this occasion,
when they screened him from the frowns of man.

Solitude offered him its charms. The zephyrs sought to soothe his
sorrows by their gentle whispers, and the birds sang for the peace of
his troubled spirit, while the babbling brooks strove to make him gay;
but who can be gay when loved ones are menaced with a terrible danger?
Charles Stevens saw little of the beauty of nature. His eyes were
searching the forests for dusky forms, which he hoped to meet. Those
dusky sons of the forest were not often desirable sights; but Charles
was as anxious to see the feathers and painted faces of these heathens,
as if they were brothers.

He spent the day in wandering through the woods, forgetting to take any
nourishment, for he had brought no food with him, and, in fact, he had
not thought to eat since the arrest of his mother and Cora.

He was weak and faint, and his hands trembled. He was not hungry; but
his strength was giving way, and he realized that he had been foolish
not to provide himself with food.

Evening came, and he sank down on the mossy banks of a stream and took a
few draughts of water to revive him. The stars came out one by one.

By the merest chance, he raised his despairing eyes and, gazing across
the stream to the woods beyond, saw a light. Charles struggled to his
feet and gazed like one to whom life h