The young man turned furiously on his servant.
"Wretched fellow," he shouted, "what have you done?"
"Kill me, if you will, sir," the Breton replied, simply, "but indeed it was stronger than myself, I was so frightened."
"Come, come," the Major said, interposing, "you must not be angry with the poor fellow, he fancied he was acting for the best, and for my part I think he was."
The incident had no other result; the exile died on the spot, taking with him the secret of his name.
While this scene was taking place in the courtyard of the fort, John Black, who was anxious to reassure his wife and daughter, went to look for them; but though he went through all the rooms and outbuildings of the fort, where he had concealed them for a few minutes previously, he could not possibly find them anywhere.
The poor squatter returned, with lengthened face and despair in his soul, to announce to the Major the disappearance of his wife and daughter, probably carried off by the Indians. Without losing a moment, the Major ordered a dozen hunters to go in search of the ladies; but just as the band was about to start, they arrived, accompanied by Bright-eye and two American hunters. Margaret and her daughter were with them. So soon as Prairie-Flower perceived the Count, she uttered a cry of joy, and rushed toward him.
"Saved!" she exclaimed.
But all at once she blushed, trembled, and went in confusion to seek refuge by her mother's side. The Count went up, took her hand, and pressed it tenderly.
"Prairie-Flower," he said to her, softly, "do you no longer love me now that I am free?"