“Yes, sir.”

  “Do you see the punt on the beach, Emma?”

  “No, I do not,” replied Emma; “but it may be behind the point.”

  “Nor can I; I hope he has not been carried away by the wind, for it blows very hard; I’ll run down, and see if he is there.”

  Alfred ran down to the beach; the punt was gone from the shore, and after looking for some time to leeward, which was to the eastward, in the direction of the rapids, Alfred thought that he perceived something like a boat at a distance of three or four miles; but the water of the lake was much ruffled by the strong wind, and it was not easy to distinguish.

  Alfred hastened back, and said to Emma, “I really am afraid that John is adrift. I think I see the boat, but am not sure. Emma, go in quietly and bring out my telescope, which is over my bed-place. Do not let them see you, or they will be asking questions, and your aunt may be alarmed.”

  Emma went to the house, and soon returned with the telescope. Alfred and Malachi then went down to the beach, and the former distinctly made out that what he had seen was the punt adrift, with John in it.

  “Now, what is to be done?” said Alfred. “I must take a horse, and ride off to the fort, for if they do not see him before he passes, he may not be picked up.”

  “If he once gets into the rapids, sir,” said Malachi, “he will be in great danger; for he may be borne down upon one of the rocks, and upset in a minute.”

  “Yes; but he is some way from them yet,” replied Alfred.

  “Very true, sir; but with this strong wind right down to them, and helping the current, he will soon be there. There is no time to be lost.”

  “No; but I’ll go in to dinner, and as soon as I have taken a mouthful, just to avoid creating any alarm, I will slip out, and ride to the fort as fast as I can.”

  “Just so; you will be there in good time, for he is now three miles above the fort; indeed, he can not well pass it without their seeing him.”

  “Yes, he can, now that the water is so rough,” replied Alfred; “recollect that they are soldiers in the fort, and not sailors, who are accustomed to look on the water. A piece of drift timber and a punt is much the same to their eyes. Come, let us in to dinner.”

  “Yes, sir; I’ll follow you,” replied Malachi; “but, before I come in I’ll catch the horse and saddle him for you. You can tell Miss Emma to hold her tongue about it.”

  Alfred rejoined Emma, whom he cautioned, and then they went in to their dinner.

  “Where’s John?” said Mr. Campbell; “he promised me some lake fish for dinner, and has never brought them in; so you will not have such good fare as I expected.”

  “And where’s Malachi?” said Alfred.

  “I dare say he and John are out together somewhere,” observed Henry, who, with Martin, had come in before Alfred.

  “Well, he will lose his dinner,” said Mrs. Campbell.

  “That’s what I can not afford to do, mother,” said Alfred; “I am very hungry, and I have not more than five minutes to spare, for the seed must be put in to-night.”

  “I thought Malachi was with you, Alfred,” said Mr. Campbell.

  “So he was, father,” replied Alfred; “but he left me. Now, mother, please to give me my dinner.”

  Alfred ate fast, and then rose from the table, and went away from the house. The horse was all ready, and he mounted and rode off for the fort, telling Malachi that his father and mother thought John was with him; and that, therefore, he had better not go in to dinner, but keep out of the way.

  “Yes, sir, that will be best, and then they can ask no questions. Be quick, sir, for I am not at all easy about the boy.”

  Their plans, however, to conceal the danger of John did not succeed; for Mrs. Campbell, after the loss of poor little Percival, had become more than ever solicitous about John, and, a minute or two after Alfred had left the house, she rose from the table, and went to the door, to see if she could perceive Malachi and John coming in. As it happened, Alfred had just set off in a gallop, and she saw him, as well as Malachi standing by himself and watching Alfred’s departure. The very circumstance of Alfred’s mysterious departure alarmed her. He had never said that he was going to the fort, and that John was not with Malachi was certain. She went into the cottage, and, sinking back in her chair, exclaimed— “Some accident has happened to John!”

  “Why should you say so, my dear?” said Mr. Campbell.

  “I’m sure of it,” replied Mrs. Campbell, bursting into tears. “Alfred is riding away to the fort. Malachi is standing by himself outside. What can it be?”

  Mr. Campbell and all the others ran out immediately, except Mary Percival, who went to Mrs. Campbell. Mr. Campbell beckoned to Emma, and from her obtained the real state of the case.

  “It will be better to tell her at once,” said Mr. Campbell, who then went to his wife, telling her that John was adrift, and that Alfred had ridden to the fort to pick him up in one of the bateaux, but there was no danger to be apprehended.

  “Why should they conceal it, if there was no danger, Campbell?” replied his wife. “Yes; there must be danger now the water is so rough. My child, am I to lose you as well as my poor Percival!” continued Mrs. Campbell, again sobbing.

  Every attempt was made to console her and assuage her fears, but with indifferent success, and the afternoon of this day was passed in great concern by all, and in an extreme state of nervous anxiety on the part of Mrs. Campbell. Toward the evening, Alfred was seen returning on horseback at full speed. The whole of the family were out watching his arrival, with beating hearts; poor Mrs. Campbell in almost a fainting state. Alfred perceived them long before he had crossed the prairie, and waved his hat in token of good tidings.

  “All’s well, depend upon it, my dear,” said Mr. Campbell. “Alfred would not wave his hat if there was any disaster.”

  “I must have it from his own mouth,” said Mrs. Campbell, almost breathless.

  “Safe?” cried out Martin to Alfred, as he approached.

  “Safe, quite safe!” cried Alfred, in return.

  “Thank Heaven!” cried Mrs. Campbell, in a low voice, clasping her hands in gratitude.

  Alfred leaped off his saddle, and hastened to communicate the news. John, trusting too much to his own powers, had gone out in the punt, and soon found out that he could not manage it in so strong a wind. He attempted to get back to the beach, but was unsuccessful, and had, as we have said, been carried away by the wind and current down toward the rapids; but it so happened, that before Alfred had arrived at the fort, Captain Sinclair had observed the punt adrift, and, by the aid of a telescope, ascertained that John was in it, exerting himself very vigorously, but to no purpose. Captain Sinclair, having reported to the commandant and obtained permission, had launched one of the bateaux, manned by the soldiers, and had brought John and the punt on shore, about four miles below the fort, and not until they had arrived in the strong current of the rapids, which in another hour would have, in all probability, proved fatal. Alfred, from the fort, had seen Captain Sinclair gain the shore, with John and the punt in tow, and, as soon as he was satisfied of his brother’s safety, had ridden back as fast as he could, to communicate it. This intelligence gave them all great delight, and now that they knew that John was safe, they waited his return with patience. Captain Sinclair arrived, with John behind him, on horseback, about two hours afterward, and was gladly welcomed.

  “Indeed, Captain Sinclair, we are under great obligations to you. Had you not been so active, the boy might have been lost,” said Mrs. Campbell. “Accept my best thanks.”

  “And mine,” said Mary, extending her hand to him.

  “John, you have frightened me very much,” said Mrs. Campbell; “how could you be so imprudent as to go on the lake in such a high wind? See, what a narrow escape you have had.”

  “I should have been at Montreal to-morrow morning,” said John, laughing.

  “No, never; you would have been upset in the rapids long before you could get to Montreal.”

  “Well, mother, I can swim,” replied John.

  “You naughty boy, nothing will make you afraid.”

  “Well, ma’am, it’s a good fault, that of having confidence in yourself, so don’t check it too much,” replied Malachi. “It saves many a man who would otherwise be lost.”

  “That’s very true, Malachi,” observed Alfred; “so, now that he is safe back, we won’t scold John any more. He will know better than to go out in such rough weather again.”

  “To be sure I shall,” said John; “I don’t want to go down the rapids.”

  “Well, I’m glad to hear you say that,” replied Mrs. Campbell.

  Captain Sinclair remained with them that night. Before daylight, the family were alarmed by the report of a gun, and it was immediately supposed that some attack had been made on the lodge occupied by Malachi, Martin, and his wife. Captain Sinclair, Alfred, and John sprang out of bed, and were clothed in a minute. As soon as they had armed themselves, they opened the door cautiously, and, looking well round, went through the passage to the sheep-fold where the lodge was built. Every thing, however, appeared to be quiet, and Alfred knocked at the door. Malachi answered to the inquiry, “What is the matter?”

  “We heard the report of a gun close to the house just now, and we thought something might have happened.”

  “Oh!” cried Malachi, laughing, “is that all? Then you may all go to bed again. It’s my trap for the bear — nothing more. I forgot to tell you last night.”

  “Well, as we are up, we may as well go and see,” said Alfred; “the day is breaking.”

  “Well, sir, I am ready,” said Malachi, coming out with his deer-skin jacket in one hand and his rifle in the other.

  They walked to the maize-field on the other side of the river, and found that the trap had been successful, for a large bear lay dead at the foot of the snake-fence.

  “Yes, sir, I’ve got him,” said Malachi.

  “But what was the trap?” said Henry.

  “You see, sir, I tracked the brute over the rails by his broad foot-mark, and as I knew he would come the same way, I fixed the rifle with a wire to the trigger, so that, as he climbed up, he must touch the wire with his fore-paws, and the muzzle, pointed a little downward, would then about reach his heart when the gun went off. You see, sir, it has happened just as I wished it, and there’s another good skin for Montreal.”

  “It is a she-bear,” said Martin, who had joined them, “and she has cubs; they can’t be far off.”

  “That’s true,” replied Malachi; “so now you had better all go back again. Martin and I will hide, and I’ll answer for it, in an hour, we will bring the cubs home with us.”

  The rest of the party returned to the house. The Strawberry had already made known to Mr. and Mrs. Campbell the cause of the report. About an hour before breakfast, Malachi and Martin came in, each with a cub of a few weeks old. The little animals had come in the track of the mother in search of her, and were pawing the dead body, as if trying to awaken her, when Malachi and Martin secured them.

  “What a charming pet,” said Emma; “I will rear it for myself.”

  “And I’ll have the other,” said John.

  No objection was raised to this, except that Mr. Campbell observed, that if they became troublesome as they grew up, they must be parted with, which was agreed to. Emma and John took possession of their pets, and fed them with milk, and in a few days they became very tame; one being chained up near the house, and the other at Malachi’s lodge. They soon grew very playful and very amusing little animals, and the dogs became used to them, and never attempted to hurt them; indeed, very often Oscar and the bear would be seen rolling about together, the best friends in the world. But in a few months they became too large for pets, and too troublesome, so one was dispatched by a bateau going to Montreal, as a present to Mr. Emmerson, and the other was taken to the fort by Captain Sinclair, and became a great favorite of the soldiers.

  CHAPTER XXXVI.

  Captain Sinclair was now very constantly at the house, for in the summer time the commandant allowed much more liberty to the officers. Although the detention of the Young Otter and the cause of his being detained, had been made known to the Angry Snake, weeks passed away, and yet there appeared no intention on the part of the chief to redeem his young warrior by producing Percival. Every day an overture on his part was expected, but none came, and those who were in the secret were in a continual state of suspense and anxiety. One thing had been ascertained, which was, that the Indian fired at by John had been killed, and this occasioned much fear on the part of Malachi and Martin, that the Angry Snake would revenge the death upon young Percival. This knowledge of the Indian feeling, however, they kept to themselves.

  Toward the close of the summer they had an arrival of letters and newspapers, both from England and Montreal. There was nothing peculiarly interesting in the intelligence from England, although the newspapers were, as usual, read with great avidity. One paragraph met the eye of Henry, which he immediately communicated, observing at the time that they always obtained news of Mr. Douglas Campbell on every fresh arrival. The paragraph was as follows:— “The Oxley hounds had a splendid run on Friday last;” after describing the country they passed through, the paragraph ended with, “We regret to say that Mr. Douglas Campbell, of Wexton Hall, received a heavy fall from his horse, in clearing a wide brook. He is, however, we understand, doing well.” The letters from Montreal, were, however, important. They communicated the immediate departure from that city of four families of emigrants, who had accepted the terms offered by Mr. Emmerson, and were coming to settle upon Mr. Campbell’s property. They also stated that the purchase of the other six hundred acres of contiguous land had been completed, and sent government receipts for the purchase-money.

  The news contained in this letter induced Mr. Campbell to send a message to the commandant of the fort, by Captain Sinclair, acquainting him with the expected arrival of the emigrant families, and requesting to know whether he would allow a party of soldiers to assist in raising the cottages necessary for their reception, and begging the loan of two or three tents to accommodate them upon their arrival, until their cottages should be built. The reply of the commandant was favorable, and now all was bustle and activity, that, if possible, the buildings might be in forwardness previous to harvest time, when they would all have ample occupation. Indeed, as the hay harvest was just coming on, without assistance from the fort they never could have got through the work previous to the winter setting in, and it would have been very inconvenient to have had to receive any of the emigrants into their own house.

  The sites of the four cottages, or log huts, were soon selected; they were each of them nearly half a mile from Mr. Campbell’s house, and while some of the party, assisted by a portion of the soldiers, were getting in the hay, the others, with another portion, were cutting down the trees, and building up the cottages. In a fortnight after they had commenced, the emigrants arrived, and were housed in the tents prepared for them; and as their labor was now added to that of the others, in a short time every thing was well in advance. The agreement made by Mr. Campbell was, that the emigrants should each receive fifty acres of land, after they had cleared for him a similar quantity; but there were many other conditions, relative to food and supply of stock to the emigrant families, which are not worth the while to dwell upon. It is sufficient to say that Mr. Campbell, with his former purchases, retained about 600 acres, which he considered quite sufficient for his farm, which was all in a ring fence, and with the advantage of bordering on the lake. The fire had cleared a great deal of the new land, so that it required little trouble for his own people to get it into a fit state for the first crop.

  While the emigrants and soldiers were hard at work, the Colonel paid a visit to Mr. Campbell to settle his account with him, and handed over a bill upon government for the planks, flour, etc., supplied to the fort.

  “I assure you, Mr. Campbell, I have great pleasure,” said the Colonel, “in giving you every assistance, and I render it the more readily as I am authorized by the Governor so to do. Your arrival and settling here has proved very advantageous; for your supplying the fort has saved the government a great deal of money, at the same time that it has been profitable to you, and enabled you to get rid of your crops without sending them down so far as Montreal; which would have been as serious an expense to you, as getting the provisions from Montreal has proved to us. You may keep the fatigue party of soldiers upon the same terms as before, as long as they may prove useful to you, provided they return to the fort by the coming of winter.”

  “Then I will, if you please, retain them for getting in the harvest; we have so much to do that I shall be most happy to pay for their assistance.”

  I have said that there were four families of emigrants, and now I will let my readers know a little more about them.

  The first family was a man and his wife of the name of Harvey; they had two sons of fourteen and fifteen, and a daughter of eighteen years of age. This man had been a small farmer, and by his industry was gaining an honest livelihood, and putting by some money, when his eldest son, who was at the time about twenty years old, fell into bad company, and was always to be seen at the alehouses or at the fairs, losing his time and losing his money. The father, whose ancestors had resided for many generations on the same spot, and had always been, as long as they could trace back, small farmers like himself, and who was proud of only one thing, which was that his family had been noted for honesty and upright dealing, did all he could to reclaim him, but in vain. At last the son was guilty of a burglary, tried, convicted, and transported for life. The disgrace had such an effect upon the father, that he never held up his head afterward; he was ashamed to be seen in the parish, and at last he resolved to emigrate to a new country where what had happened would not be known.

  He accordingly sold off every thing, and came to Canada; but by the time that he had arrived in the country, and paid all his expenses, he had little money left, and when he heard from Mr. Emmerson the terms offered by Mr. Campbell, he gladly accepted them. The wife, his two sons and his daughter, who came with him, were as industrious and as respectable as himself.