tance a body had been dragged
evidently. Roleau led the way through a tortuous path until they came in
sight of a small vacant spot where sometime Indians had camped, as they
could tell by the scorched and blackened trees. A nearly nude body had
been fastened to one and a few dead branches gathered, evidently for a
fire.

Destournier stood speechless. The head hung down, the face was unmarred,
save for a few scratches, and he gave thanks for that. But his heart was
heavy within him. The poor body had been stabbed and cut, yet it had not
bled much, it seemed.

He would have felt relieved if he had known the whole story. Two
stalwart bucks had seized Giffard just beyond the settlement and hurried
him along at such a pace that he could hardly breathe. They fastened his
arms behind, each man grasping an elbow, and fairly galloped, until one
of them caught his foot in a fallen tree and went down. In the fall
Giffard's temple struck against a stone that knocked him senseless. He
might have revived, but he was hurried along by a stout leathern thong
slipped under the armpits, and was then dragged a dead weight. They had
stopped for a holocaust and bound him to a tree, while they despatched
the younger man. But there was difficulty in finding anything dry enough
to burn, so they had amused themselves by gashing the dead body. Then
suddenly alarmed they had plunged farther into the forest, leaving one
of their own wounded that Roleau had finished.

Giffard had been captured in a moment of incautiousness, but the sights
and the wantonness had fired his blood and roused a spirit of
retaliation.

They had nearly stripped both bodies, and carried off the garments.

"If you can manage, M'sieu," exclaimed their guide, "I will take the
young fellow." He stooped, picked him up, and threw him over his
shoulder.

"You will find him a heavy burthen," as the man staggered a little.

"I can carry. Do not fear," nodding assurance.

Destournier took off his fur coat and wrapped it about the poor body.
Each took hold of the improvised litter and they commenced their
melancholy journey. How could Madame Giffard stand it, for she really
did love him. The man's heart ached with the sincerest pity.

They laid down their burthens inside the settlement in one of the partly
destroyed cabins. Du Parc came thither to meet them.

"Ah," he exclaimed, "that fine young fellow who was going to be a great
success. The company wanted him back in Fr