poor
Boulanger, as if he were your equal, when you might have been striking
a blow yonder for your dear France."

"It is only a pity, my good fellow," replied Isidore, "that I am not a
red skin, so that I might find out the right sort of plant to cure this
abominable bite and put you on your legs again."

"Never mind me, I beseech you, monsieur," said the Canadian, faintly;
"I shall do well enough, I daresay. Only go and make your way to the
fort--it cannot be many miles off--and then perhaps you can come and
help me later when the enemy are beaten off."

"That I will not," was the reply; "I will die here with you rather than
leave you alone."

There was in truth no mere sentiment in the words. Bravely indeed had
Isidore borne up for many a long week; but fatigue and privation had
told upon him far more than on the more seasoned frame of his
companion, and with the misfortune that had befallen the latter, the
strong hopes that had sustained him gave way, and he felt that he had
no longer strength enough to proceed further.

"To-morrow," said he, with an attempt at an encouraging smile,
"to-morrow I shall perhaps be able to carry you."

"To-morrow. Alas!" murmured Boulanger, turning away his face to hide
his emotion. Then suddenly he raised himself, and pointed to a clump
of undergrowth a few yards off. "Look!" whispered he, "a red skin!"

Isidore started to his feet, and levelled his rifle, but instantly
threw it down, and stepping forward cried aloud, "What! my old friend
White Eagle of Louisburg! Never was any one more welcome. Make haste
and look to my poor comrade."

Without a word the Indian knelt down and examined the bite. Then he
strode away, but soon returned with a handful of simples, which he
carefully bound round the wounded limb.

"Not rattlesnake," said he quietly, "he will not die."

"I could have told you that, friend," said Boulanger, "but when a man's
life depends on his walking on a bit with a leg as big as a bison's, it
might just as well have been a rattlesnake for that matter, to say
nothing of having had no food but a raw partridge between two of us for
some days past."

The Indian opened his pouch and placed before them his little stock of
food, of which they eagerly partook. Whilst they were thus engaged he
sat a little way apart, to all appearance wholly unconcerned. As soon,
however, as the provisions were demolished he arose, and addressing
himself to Isidore, said, "