unwillingly, to Baxter's house. Here, after making sure that the horse had gone directly to the stable and was provided for, he found Lincoln eagerly attended by the two women, being made as comfortable as possible in the major's own particular arm-chair. He had just handed Mrs. Baxter the letter entrusted to him at Albany by her husband. It contained, so far as he supposed, no important news, for the major had at various points entrusted to swifter messengers than himself the intelligence of his safety. The letter itself he had kept as the best warrant for a prompt personal call at the house where he hoped to find, as he had done, a warm welcome. Mrs. Baxter was engrossed in the contents of the letter. As Bates entered the ensign was gazing in silence at Deborah, who was entertaining him with lively gossip about all his friends and relations, of whom he had many. It was a fair June day, than which, as her own poets say, there is little finer that New England can show; but all its brilliancy could not drive away the depression which came over her as she saw how gaily Bates entered into her conversation and how little disturbed he seemed to be at the greater attention which she gave to Lincoln's rare and laconic remarks than to his own lively prattle. She could not hide from herself the conviction that the proposal that she was sure was coming from the ensign would meet with no opposition from the too generous boy. Mrs. Baxter interrupted. "Joshua, he says tell you that he saw-oh, no matter now; I'll tell you later," said she hastily, as she noticed the next line began with a "she."

Bates's next sentence was not only long in coming, but disjointed and flat. Debby pretended not to notice, but all felt that it was as well for the easy flow of the conversation that the message was not completely read.

The two young men left the house together, Bates for his return to his camp duties, Lincoln only to his cousin's comfortable home.

"How was it about Adele-Miss Bellefontaine ?" asked Lincoln.

"She has gone. I don't know where. I never saw her again after the night you and I met at the bridge. There was a severe storm the night she disappeared. Some days afterward Antone says he found pieces of an old boat on the rocks off Peddock's, with cloth like her dress. Antone says he don't know, but I notice he is not grieving, yet he was very fond of her. Mrs. Antone shakes her head and says nothing."

"Well they may," replied Lincoln, who had allowed Bates to finish his statement before he interrupted. "She is safe enough, so far as bodily harm goes. I saw her twice in Quebec and once again in Montreal, but without speaking to her, just coming out of mass and joining a young French officer."

Bates's face darkened. "Saving her soul as before," said he. "False faith and-worse, are venial sins beside heresy, I suppose."

"Joshua, you are a lucky man, if you only knew it," said Lincoln, with a heartier slap than he had yet given with his broad palm, even now no light weight. "I do not know what the message was that Mrs. Baxter would not read, but I can guess. The major had heard that the pretty juffrow had married a young business man of Albany and had gone with him into the woods to trade for furs. I delivered your last dying message to her. She turned a very pretty shell pink and bid me 'good-morning' calmly."

CHAPTER IX

LINCOLN'S STORY

Since

A GROUP of neighbors had gathered in the major's livingroom to hear Lincoln's account of his adventures. the first report of Bates that they had joined the unfortunate party together no word had come to Hingham until the message that he was on the way home, sent by some more rapid traveler, had arrived a few days in advance. There was abundance of comment on the change from the rotund and prosperous young fellow of the year before, to the lean, gaunt and weather-beaten veteran who gave them his story.

No tidings of the fight, except its result, had reached the weekly newspapers through "Letters from a Gentleman to a Friend in Boston." Bates had been disabled too early in the affair to tell of anything except his own bewildered sensations when he aroused from his unconsciousness in the oncoming autumn twilight, finding himself with no companions except the mutilated corpses of his friends, with the crows beginning already to gather around them and the wolves nearly mistaking himself for another. This and the sight of his comrades' heads impaled in the woods, his own weariful crawl backward for twelve miles or more, were grim recollections that he had never been willing to talk about. Neither had he disclosed his own conjectures as to the fate of those who had neither returned nor been left upon the field. He could only reason that they had not been tortured upon the spot, but whether kept for more elaborate and ingenious methods at the elegant leisure of

their captors there was nothing he could do but guess. These doubts also he had had the wisdom to suppress.

They had marched sixty strong, Lincoln said. Captain Hodges had volunteered for the scouting party, and though many of the men were from his own company there were volunteers from others and an unusual proportion of officers who welcomed the opportunity to escape from the tediousness of camp duty. They had gone about twelve miles and halted near the lake for refreshment. Some of the men were sent for water which which to make porridge from the meal which each man carried. A few had been thoughtful enough to take molasses. Their dreams of luxury were swiftly banished when they found the beach sand covered with tracks of hundreds of moccasins, only here and there a boot-heel. Nothing was to be seen on the lake nor heard in the woods, but it was only too evident from the freshness of the tracks that their enemies could not have gone very far. The hungry men were re-formed at once and advanced carefully after the skirmishers, of whom Bates was one, on the flank farthest from the lake. "They had gone but a short distance again when I saw," said Lincoln, "a dusky arm rise and fall silently upon the head which I had just been watching above the underbrush. I started to run there, but then shots began in every direction and the air was full of whoops. Our whole body moved off toward the lake. I tried to get to Bates, but there were dozens of savages between me and him. Captain Hodges was encouraging his men when he received a ball in his ankle and had to kneel, while he kept on firing as fast as he could. Several Indians surrounded him, but he was active enough to fight them off with the butt of his gun, notwithstanding his wound, until he got another ball in the breast. I saw him put his hand up to the wound while he brandished his gun with the other as they got closer and closer to get his scalp, but at last came a shot through his head, and that was the end of the brave man. I am told that his body was found upon the field and afterward

brought back to be buried. By this time a large part of the others were quieted either in death or captivity, for I could hear many groans. I was down with arrows in my legs and in my shoulder, but I tried to work along toward where I thought Josh might be, but I was not quiet enough. In a minute half a dozen of the devils were after me, and in a few seconds more I was tied as tight as one of their pappooses-but not so carefully. Josh was better off without me, even if I could have got to him, for they did not find him.

"That was the last of the fight that I knew. They loaded me up with all the stuff they thought I could carry and I had to carry it, helped along with a good many kicks and blows to say nothing of the language, which I presume was not complimentary, although I failed to get the precise meaning.

"How many of them? There must have been at least four for every one of us. Some of them had bows and arrows, which are very ugly things at close quarters, for you cannot tell where they come from, and they make a very ragged hole before you get them out.

"Many Frenchmen? I saw several myself, but there were probably more than I saw. It was fortunate for us that there were. There was one nice-looking young fellow that seemed by his uniform to be high in rank. I presume that some Frenchman was in command-such command as anybody has over those sons of Belial-and it might have been he. He had to cajole and persuade them and await their pleasure. When he saw that I could not bear the cutting of the cords and the weight of the packs he made them slack up a little. They seemed to think that I might get away, for when we stopped they made a Saint Andrew's cross of me. They tied each of my limbs to a separate tree, and as if that were not enough, laid saplings across me, with a brave sleeping on the ends. I lay quietly, but I cannot say that I slept comfortably. This was before we got to Carillon. Then there was a grand talk. The French