Once again we return to Silver Lake; but here we do not find affairs as we left them. True, Roy and Nelly are still there, the hut is as snug as it used to be, and the scenery as beautiful, but provisions have begun to fail, and an expression of real anxiety clouds the usually cheerful countenance of Roy, while reflected anxiety sits on the sweet little face of Nell. The winter is far advanced, and the prospect of resuming the journey home is farther off than ever.

One morning Roy entered the hut with a slow step and a sad countenance.

“Nell,” said he, throwing down a small fish which he had just caught, “things look very bad now; seems to me that we’ll starve here. Since we broke the long line I’ve only caught little things like that; there’s no rabbits in the snares—I looked at every one this mornin’—and, as for deer, they seem to have said good-bye for the winter. I thought of goin’ out with the gun this forenoon, but I think it a’nt o’ no use, for I was out all yesterday without seeing a feather or a hoof-print.”

The tone in which Roy said this, and the manner in which he flung himself down on the ground beside the fire, alarmed his sister greatly, so that she scarcely knew what to say.

“Don’t know what’s to be done at all,” continued Roy somewhat peevishly.

This was so unlike himself that the little girl felt a strong tendency to burst into tears, but she restrained herself. After a short silence, she said somewhat timidly—

“Don’t you think we might try to pray?”

“What’s the use,” said Roy quickly; “I’m sure I’ve prayed often and often, and so have you, but nothin’s come of it.”

It was quite evident that Roy was in a state of rebellion. This was the first time Nelly had suggested united prayer to her brother; she did it timidly, and the rebuff caused her to shrink within herself.

Roy’s quick eye observed the shrinking; he repented instantly, and, drawing Nelly to him, laid her head on his breast.

“Forgive me, Nell, I shouldn’t have said it; for, after all, we’ve had everything given to us here that we have needed up to this time. Come, I will pray with you.”

They both got upon their knees at once, but, strive as he might, not a word would cross Roy’s lips for several minutes. Nelly raised her head and looked at him.

“God help us!” he ejaculated.

“For Jesus’ sake,” murmured Nelly.

They both said “Amen” to these words, and these were all their prayers.

Roy’s rebellion of heart was gone now, but his feelings were not yet calmed. He leaped up, and, raising his sister, kissed her almost violently.

“Now, lass, we have prayed, and I do believe that God will answer us; so I’ll take my gun and snow-shoes, an’ off to the woods to look for a deer. See that you have a roarin’ fire ready to roast him three hours hence.”

Nelly smiled through her tears and said she would, while Roy slipped his feet through the lines of his snow-shoes, threw his powder-horn and bullet-pouch over his shoulder, seized his gun, and sallied forth with a light step.

When he was gone, Nelly began actively to prepare for the fulfilment of her promise. She took up the axe which Roy had left behind him, and went into the forest behind the hut to cut firewood. She was very expert at this laborious work. Her blows were indeed light, for her little arms, although strong for their size, were not strong for such labour; but she knew exactly where to hit and how to hit. Every stroke fell on the right spot, with the axe at the right angle, so that a chip or two flew off every time. She panted a good deal, and grew uncommonly warm, but she liked the work; her face glowed and her eyes sparkled, and it was evident that she was not exhausted by it. In little more than an hour she had cut enough of dry wood to make a fire that would have roasted an entire sheep. Then she carried it to the hut, after which she sat down to rest a little.

While resting, she gathered carefully together all the scraps of food in the hut, and found that there was still enough for two good meals; so she ate a small piece of dried fish, and began to wish that Roy would return. Suddenly she was startled by a loud fluttering noise close to the hut, and went out to see what it could be.

It might be supposed that a little girl in such solitary and unprotected circumstances would have felt alarmed, and thought of wolves or bears; but Nelly was too well accustomed to the dangers and risks of the backwoods to be much troubled with mere fancies. She was well aware that wolves and bears, as a rule, shun the presence of human beings, and the noise which she had heard was not of a very alarming character.

The first sight that greeted her was a large bird of the grouse species, sitting on a tree not three yards from the hut. She almost felt that by springing forward she could seize it with her hands, and her first impulse was to throw the axe at it; but, checking herself, she went noiselessly back into the hut, and quickly reissued with the bow and a couple of arrows.

Fitting an arrow to the string, she whispered to herself, “Oh, how I do hope I won’t miss it!” and took a careful aim. Anxiety, however, made her hand unsteady, for, the next moment, the arrow was quivering in the stem of the tree at least three inches below the bird.

A look of deep disappointment was mingled with an expression of determination as she pursed her little mouth and fitted the second arrow to the string. This time she did not take so careful an aim, but let fly at once, and her shaft entered the bird’s throat and brought it to the ground. With a cry of delight she sprang upon her prize, and bore it in triumph into the hut, where she speedily plucked it. Then she split it open, and went down to the lake and washed it quite clean and spread it out flat. Her next proceeding was to cut a short stick, about two feet in length, which she pointed at both ends, making one point thinner than the other. This thin point she thrust through the bird, and stuck it up before the fire to roast, placing a small dish, made of birch bark, below it to catch the dripping.

“I hope he won’t come back till it’s ready,” she muttered, as the skin of the bird began to brown and frizzle, while a delicious odour began to fill the hut.

Just as the thought was uttered, a footstep was heard outside, the covering of the doorway was raised, a tall figure stooped to enter, and the next instant a gaunt and half-naked savage stood before her.

Nelly uttered a faint cry of terror, but she was so paralysed that she could make no effort to escape, even had escape been possible.

The appearance of the Indian was indeed calculated to strike terror to a stouter heart than that of poor Nelly; for besides being partially clad in torn garments, his eyes were sunken and bloodshot, and his whole person was more or less smeared with blood.

As the poor child gazed at this apparition in horror, the Indian said, “Ho!” by way of salutation, and stepping forward, took her hand gently and shook it after the manner of the white man. A gleam of intelligence and surprise at once removed the look of fear from Nelly’s face.

“Wapaw!” she exclaimed breathlessly.

“Ho!” replied the Indian, with a nod and a smile, as he laid aside his gun and snowshoes, and squatted himself down before the fire.

There was not much to be gathered from “ho!” but the nod and smile proved to Nelly that the intruder was indeed none other than her old friend Wapaw.

Her alarm being now removed, she perceived that the poor Indian was suffering both from fatigue and wounds—perhaps from hunger too; but this latter idea was discarded when she observed that several birds, similar to the one she had just killed, hung at the Indian’s belt. She rose up quickly, therefore, and, running down to the lake, soon returned with a can of clear water, with which she purposed bathing Wapaw’s wounds. Wapaw seized the can, however, and emptied the contents down his throat, so she was constrained to go for a second supply.

Having washed the wounds, which were chiefly on the head and appeared to her to be very severe, although, in reality, they were not so, she set the roasted bird before him and desired him to eat.

Of course she had put a great many questions to Wapaw while thus occupied. Her residence with the Indians had enabled her to speak and understand the Indian tongue a little, and, although she had some difficulty in understanding much of what Wapaw said in reply, she comprehended enough to let her know that a number of white men had been killed by the savages, and that Wapaw was fleeing for his life.

On first hearing this a deadly paleness overspread her face, for she imagined that the white people killed must be her own kindred; but Wapaw quickly relieved her mind on this point.

After this he devoted himself entirely to the roasted bird, and Nelly related to him, as well as she could, the particulars of her own and Roy’s escape from the Indians.

Chapter Twenty.
More Surprising Discoveries

While they were thus occupied, a cry was heard to ring through the forest. The Indian laid his hand on his gun, raised his head, which he turned to one side in a listening attitude, and sat as still as a dark statue. The only motion that could be detected in the man was a slight action in his distended nostrils as he breathed gently.

This attitude was but momentary, however, for the cry was repeated (“Hi! Nelly, hi!”) in clear silvery tones, and Wapaw smiled as he recognised Roy’s voice, and quietly resumed his former occupation.

Nelly bounded up at once, and ran out to receive her brother, and tell him of the arrival of their old friend.

She slipped on her snow-shoes, and went off in the direction of the cry. On rounding the foot of a cliff she discovered Roy, standing as if he had been petrified, with his eyes glaring at the snow with a mingled look of surprise and alarm.

Nelly’s step roused him.

“Ho! Nell,” he cried, giving vent to a deep sigh of relief, “I’m thankful to see you—but look here. What snow-shoe made this track? I came on it just this moment, and it pulled me up slick, I can tell ye.”

Nelly at once removed Roy’s alarm, and increased his surprise by telling him of the new arrival, who, she said, was friendly, but she did not tell him that he was an old friend.

“But come, now, what have you got for dinner, Roy?” said Nelly, with an arch smile, “for oh! I’m so hungry.”

Roy’s countenance fell, and he looked like a convicted culprit.

“Nell, I haven’t got nothin’ at all.”

“What a pity! We must just go supperless to bed, I suppose.”

“Come, lass, I see by the twinkle in your eye that you’ve got grub somehow or other. Has the redskin brought some ’at with him?”

“Yes, he has brought a little; but the best fun is that I shot a bird myself, and had it all ready beautifully cooked for your supper, when Wap—”

“Well, what d’ye mean by Wap?” inquired Roy, as Nelly stopped short.

“Nothing. I only meant to say that the Indian arrived suddenly, and ate it all up.”

“The villain! Well, I’ll pay him off by eatin’ up some o’ his grub. Did he say what his name was, or where he came from?” inquired Roy.

“Never mind, you can ask him yourself,” said Nelly, as they drew near to the hut; “he seems to me to have been badly wounded by his enemies.”

They stooped and entered the hut as Nelly spoke. The Indian looked up at her brother, and, uttering his wonted “Ho!” held out his hand.

“Good luck to ye!” cried Roy, grasping it and shaking it with a feeling of hearty hospitality. “It’s good to see yer face, though it is a strange un; but—hallo!—I say—yer face ain’t so strange, after all!—what! Why, you’re not Wap— Wap— Wapaw!”

The Indian displayed all his teeth, which were very numerous and remarkably white, and nodded his head gently.

“Well now, that beats everything!” cried Roy, seizing the Indian’s hand again and shaking it violently; then, turning to Nelly, he said, “Come, Nell, stir yer stumps and pluck two o’ them birds. I’ll split ’em, an’ wash ’em, an’ roast ’em, an’ we’ll all eat ’em—Wapaw’ll be ready for more before it’s ready for him. Jump, now, and see if we don’t have a feast to-night, if we should starve to-morrow. But I say, Wapaw, don’t ye think the redskins may be after you yet?”

The first part of this speech was uttered in wild glee, but the last sentence was spoken more earnestly, as the thought occurred to him that Wapaw might have been closely pursued, for Nelly had told him of the Indian having been wounded by enemies and obliged to fly.

Wapaw shook his head, and made his young friend understand as well as he could that there was little chance of that, as he had travelled with the utmost speed in order to distance his pursuers, and induce them to give up the chase.

“Well, it may be as you say, friend,” observed Roy, as he sat down before the fire and pulled off his hunting mocassins and socks, which he replaced by lighter foot-gear more suited to the hut; “but I don’t much like the notion o’ givin’ them a chance to come up and cut all our throats at once. It’s not likely, however, that they’ll be here to-night, considerin’ the pace you say you came at, so we’ll make our minds easy, but with your leave we’ll cut our sticks to-morrow, an’ make tracks for Fort Enterprise. We han’t got much in the way o’ grub to start wi’, it is true, but we have enough at least for two days’ eatin’, and for the rest, we have our guns, and you to be our guide.”

This plan was agreed to by Wapaw, who thereupon advised that they should all lie down to sleep without delay. Roy, who was fatigued with his day’s exertions, agreed, and in less than half an hour the three were sound asleep.

Next morning they arose with the sun, much refreshed; and while Wapaw and Nelly collected together and packed on their new sledge the few things that they possessed, Roy went for the last time to cast his line in Silver Lake. He was more fortunate than usual, and returned in an hour with four fine fish of about six pounds’ weight each.

With this acceptable, though small, addition to their slender stock of provisions, they left the hut about noon, and commenced their journey, making a considerable détour in order to avoid meeting with any of the Indians who might chance to have continued the pursuit of Wapaw.

That same evening, towards sunset, a party of hunters marched out of the woods, and stood upon the shores of Silver Lake, the tracks about which they began to examine with particular interest. There were six of the party, five of them being white hunters, and one an Indian. We need scarcely add that they were our friend Robin and his companions.

“I tell ’ee what it is,” cried Robin, in an excited tone, “that’s my Nelly’s fut; I’d know the prints o’t among a thousand, an’ it’s quite plain Roy is with her, an’ that Wapaw has come on ’em, for their tracks are clear.”

“Sure it looks like it,” observed Larry O’Dowd, scratching his head as if in perplexity, “but the tracks is so mixed up, it ain’t aisy to foller ’em.”

“See, here’s a well-beaten track goin’ into the wood!” cried Walter, who had, like his companions, been searching among the bushes.

Every one followed Walter, who led the way towards the hut, which was finally discovered with a thin, scarcely perceptible line of smoke still issuing from the chimney. They all stopped at once, and held back to allow Robin to advance alone. The poor man went forward with a beating heart, and stopped abruptly at the entrance, where he stood for a few seconds as if he were unable to go in. At length he raised the curtain and looked in; then he entered quickly.

“Gone, Walter, they’re gone!” he cried; “come in, lad, and see. Here’s evidence o’ my dear children everywhere. It’s plain, too, that they have left only a few hours agone.”

“True for ye, the fire’s hot,” said Larry, lighting his pipe from the embers in testimony of the truth of his assertion.

“They can’t be far off,” said Slugs, who was examining every relic of the absent ones with the most minute care. “The less time we lose in follerin’ of ’em the better—what think ye, lad?” The Black Swan nodded his approval of the sentiment.

“What! without sleep or supper?” cried Stiff, whose enthusiasm in the chase had long ago evaporated.

“Ay,” said Robin sternly, “I start now. Let those stop here who will.”

To do Stiff justice, his objections were never pressed home, so he comforted himself with a quid of tobacco, and accompanied Robin and his men with dogged resolution when they left the hut. Plunging once more into the forest, they followed up the track all night, as they had already followed it up all day.

Chapter Twenty One.
A Gladsome Meeting

Some hours before dawn Robin Gore came to an abrupt pause, and looking over his shoulder, held up his hand to command silence. Then he pointed to a small mound, on the top of which a faint glow of light was seen falling on the boughs of the shrubs with which it was crowned.

The moon had just set, but there was sufficient light left to render surrounding objects pretty distinct.

“That’s them,” said Robin to Walter, in a low whisper, as the latter came close to his side; “no doubt they’re sound asleep, an’ I’m puzzled how to wake ’em up without givin’ ’em a fright.”

“Musha! it’s a fright that Wapaw will give us, av we start him suddenly, for he’s murtherin’ quick wi’ his rifle,” whispered Larry.

“We’d better hide and then give a howl,” suggested Stiff, “an’, after they’re sot up, bring ’em down with a familiar hail.”

The deliberations of the party were out short and rendered unnecessary, however, by Wapaw himself. That sharp-eared red man had been startled by the breaking of a branch which Larry O’Dowd chanced to set his foot on, and, before Robin had observed their fire, he had roused Roy and Nelly and hurried with them to the summit of a rocky eminence, from which stronghold they now anxiously watched the proceedings of the hunters. The spot to which they had fled for refuge was almost impregnable, and might have been held for hours by a couple of resolute men against a host of savages.

Robin, after a little further consultation, resolved to send the Black Swan in advance to reconnoitre. This he did, contrary to his wonted custom of taking the lead in everything, because of an unaccountable feeling of dread lest he should not find his children there.

Black Swan at once stepped cautiously forward with his rifle, ready cocked, in the hollow of his left arm, and his finger on the trigger-guard. Step by step he moved towards the encampment without making the slightest noise, and with so little motion that he might easily have been mistaken for a dark shadow. Raising his head over the edge of the encampment he gazed earnestly into it, then he advanced another pace or two, finally he stepped into it, and, standing erect, looked around him. With a wave of his hand he summoned his comrades to advance. Robin Gore’s heart beat hard as he approached, followed by the others.

Meanwhile they were closely watched by Roy and Wapaw. When the Black Swan’s head appeared, Roy exclaimed in a whisper, “An Injun—d’ye know him, Wapaw?”

“He is one of our tribe, I think,” replied the Indian, in the same low voice, “but I know him not; the light of the fire is not strong.”

“If he’s one o’ your tribe,” said Roy, “it’s all up with us, for they won’t be long o’ findin’ us here. Keep close to me, Nell. I’ll stick by you, lass, don’t fear.”

Wapaw’s brows lowered when he saw the Black Swan step into the encampment, and make the signal to his comrades to advance. He raised his rifle, and took deliberate aim at his heart.

“Roy,” he whispered, “get an arrow ready, aim at the next man that steps into the light and let fly; I’ll not fire till after you, for the smoke would blind you.”

Roy obeyed with a trembling hand. Notwithstanding the rough life he had led in those wild woods of the West, he had never yet been called on to lift his hand against a human being, and the thought of taking life in this deliberate and almost murderous way caused him to shudder; still he felt that their case was desperate, and he nerved himself to the deed.

Another moment, and Robin stood beside the Black Swan. Roy tried to raise his bow, but his heart failed him. Wapaw glanced at him, and said sternly—

“Shoot first.”

At that moment Obadiah Stiff stepped into the encampment, and, stirring the embers of the fire with a piece of stick, caused a bright flame and showers of sparks to shoot upwards. This revealed the fact that some of the party were white men, so Wapaw lowered his rifle. A single glance of his practised eye told him who they were. Laying his hand suddenly and heavily on Roy’s shoulder he pressed him down.

“Come, let us go,” he said quickly; “I must see these men alone, and you must keep close—you must not look.”

He said the latter words with emphasis; but in order to make sure that they should not have a chance of looking, he led his young companions to a point whence the encampment could not be seen, and left them there with strict injunctions not to quit the spot until he should return.

In a few seconds Wapaw stepped into the circle of light where Robin and his party were all assembled, and so rapid and noiseless had his movement been, that he was in the midst of them almost before they were aware of his approach.

“Wapaw!” exclaimed Walter in surprise, “why, you seem to have dropped from the clouds.”

“Sure it’s a ghost ye must be,” cried Larry. The Indian took no notice of these remarks, but turned to Robin, who, with a look of deep anxiety, said—

“Have ’ee seed the childer, Wapaw?”

“They are safe,” answered the Indian.

“Thank God for that!” cried Robin, while a sigh of relief burst from him: “I believe ye, Wapaw, yer a true man an’ wouldn’t tell me a lie, would ye?”

The tone in which the hunter said this implied that the statement was scarcely a true index to his feelings, and that he would be glad to hear Wapaw assure him that he was indeed telling the truth. But this Indian was a man of truthfulness, and did not deem it necessary to repeat his assertion. He said, however, that he would go and fetch the children, and immediately quitted the camp. Soon after he returned with Roy and Nelly; he had not told them, however, who the strangers were.

When Roy first caught sight of his father he gave a shout of surprise, and stood still as if he were bewildered. Nelly uttered a wild scream, and rushed forward with outstretched arms. Robin met her more than half way, and the next moment folded his long-lost little one to his bosom.