in peace, unharmed
in the vast solitude. So passed their first night on the Plains.

CHAPTER II.

"Fear not, ye are of more value than many sparrows."

The sun had risen in all the splendour of a Canadian summer morning,
when the sleepers arose from their leafy beds. In spite of the novelty
of their situation, they had slept as soundly and tranquilly as if they
had been under the protecting care of their beloved parents, on their
little paliasses of corn straw; but they had been cared for by Him who
neither slumbereth nor sleepeth, and they waked full of youthful hope,
and in fulness of faith in His mercy into whose hands they had commended
their souls and bodies before they retired to rest.

While the children slept in peace and safety, what terrors had filled
the minds of their distracted parents! what a night of anguish and
sorrow had they passed!

When night had closed in without bringing back the absent children, the
two fathers, lighting torches of fat pine, went forth in search of the
wanderers. How often did they raise their voices in hopes their loud
halloos might reach the hearing of the lost ones! How often did they
check their hurried steps to listen for some replying call! But the
sighing breeze in the pine tops, or sudden rustling of the leaves
caused by the flight of the birds, startled by the unusual glare of the
torches, and the echoes of their own voices, were the only sounds that
met their anxious ears. At daybreak they returned, sad and dispirited,
to their homes, to snatch a morsel of food, endeavour to cheer the
drooping hearts of the weeping mothers, and hurry off, taking different
directions. But, unfortunately, they had little clue to the route which
Hector and Louis had taken, there being many cattle paths through the
woods. Louis's want of truthfulness had caused this uncertainty, as he
had left no intimation of the path he purposed taking when he quitted
his mother's house: he had merely said he was going with Hector
in search of the cattle, giving no hint of his intention of asking
Catharine to accompany them: he had but told his sick sister, that
he would bring home strawberries and flowers, and that he would soon
return. Alas, poor thoughtless Louis, how little did you think of the
web of woe you were then weaving for yourself, and all those to whom you
and your giddy companions were so dear! Children, think twice, ere ye
deceive once! Catharine's absence would have been quite