t
cries of distress from my beloved brother,--cries for help, addressed to
me. I did not walk--I flew till I reached the spot, and I then saw him
bound with a sort of strong cord, made of gut; his hands were fastened
behind his back, his legs tied together, and these cruel men were
carrying him towards their canoe, while he was crying out, 'Fritz,
Fritz, where are you?' I threw myself desperately on the six men who
were bearing him off. In the struggle, my gun, which I held in my hand,
caught something, and accidentally went off, and--O, father, it was my
own dear Jack that I wounded! I cannot tell how I survived his cry of
'You have killed me!' And when I saw his blood flow, my senses forsook
me, and I fainted. When I recovered, I was alone; they had carried him
off. I rose, and following the traces of his blood, arrived fortunately
at the shore just as they were embarking. God permitted me to see him
again, supported by one of the savages, and even to hear his feeble
voice cry, 'Console yourself, Fritz, I am not dead; I am only wounded in
the shoulder; it is not your fault; go, my kind brother, as quick as
possible to papa, and you will both'--the canoe sailed away so swiftly,
that I heard no more; but I understood the rest--'_you will both come
and rescue me_.' But will there be time? Will they dress his wound? Oh!
father, what have I done! Can you forgive me?"

Overwhelmed with grief, I could only hold out my hand to my poor boy,
and assure him I could not possibly blame him for this distressing
accident.

Ernest, though greatly afflicted, endeavoured to console his brother; he
told him a wound in the shoulder was not dangerous, and the savages
certainly intended to dress his wound, or they would have left him to
die. Fritz, somewhat comforted, begged me to allow him to bathe, to
divest himself of the colouring, which was now become odious to him, as
being that of these ruthless barbarians. I was reluctant to consent; I
thought it might still be useful, in gaining access to the savages; but
he was certain they would recognize him in that disguise as the bearer
of _the thunder_, and would distrust him. I now recollected to ask what
had become of his gun, and was sorry to learn that they had carried it
off whilst he lay insensible; he himself considered that it would be
useless to them, as they had fortunately left him the bag of ammunition.
Ernest, however, regretted the loss to ourselves, this being the third
we h