it will be prudent to let
my aunt see Percival at once; we must prepare her a little for his
appearance. She has so long considered him as dead, that the shock may
be too great."

"You say true, my dear Mary. Then we will go forward with Captain
Sinclair and Malachi, and John. Let Percival be put in the middle of the
remainder of the party, who must follow afterward, and then be taken up
to Malachi's lodge. He can remain there with the Strawberry until we
come and fetch him."

Having made these arrangements, to which Percival was with difficulty
made to agree, they walked up as proposed, to the house. Outside of the
palisade, they perceived Mr. and Mrs. Campbell, with their backs toward
them, looking toward the forest, in the direction which the party had
taken when they left. But when they were half-way from the beach, Henry
came out with Oscar from the cottage, and the dog, immediately
perceiving them, bounded to them, barking with delight. Henry cried out,
"Father--mother, here they are,--here they come." Mr. and Mrs. Campbell
of course turned round, and beheld the party advancing; they flew to
meet them, and as they caught Mary in their arms, all explanation for a
time was unnecessary--she was recovered, and that was sufficient for the
time.

"Come, mother, let us go into the house, that you may compose yourself a
little," said Alfred,--that she might not perceive Percival among the
party that followed at a distance. "Let me support you. Take my arm."

Mrs. Campbell, who trembled very much, did so, and thus turned away from
the group among whom Percival was walking. Emma was looking at them
attentively, and was about to exclaim, when Captain Sinclair put his
finger to his lips.

As soon as they arrived at the house, and had gone in, Alfred, in a few
words, gave them an account of what had passed--how successful they had
been in their attempt, and how little they had to fear from the Indians
in future.

"How grateful I am!" exclaimed Mrs. Campbell. "God be praised for all
his mercies! I was fearful that I should have lost you, my dear Mary, as
well as my poor boy. He is lost forever--but God's will be done."

"It is very strange, mother," said Alfred, "but we heard, on our
journey, that the Indians had found a white boy in the woods."

"Alas! not mine."

"I have reason to believe that it was Percival, my dear mother, and have
hopes that he is yet alive."

"My dear Alfred, do not say so unless you have go