THE FLIGHT.
The night covered the tranquil desert with its dark blue sky, studded with dazzling stars. A majestic silence brooded over the prairie; all were asleep in the island save the two Canadian sentries, who, leaning on their rifles, followed with absent eye the tall shadows of the wild beasts that slowly came down to drink in the river.
At times a mysterious quiver ran over the trees, and shook their tufted crests, whose leaves rustled with a strange sound.
Dick and Harry, the two worthy hunters, interchanged a few words in a low voice to while away the tedium of their long sentry go, to which they were condemned, when suddenly a white shadow glided through the trees, and Ellen stood by their side.
The young men started on seeing her; but the maiden greeted them with a smile, sat down on the grass, and with a graceful gesture made them a sign to seat themselves by her side. They hastened to obey her.
The hunters looked at the maiden, who smiled on them with that infantile grace which no expression can render.
"You were talking when I came up."
"Yes," Harry answered, "we were talking of you."
"Of me?" she said.
"Was it not for your sake alone that we joined this troop of bandits?" Dick said, in an ill-humoured tone.