A sad smile played round the Trail-hunter's lips. He pressed the young man's hand, saying in a sympathising voice—"Poor lad!"
"Let me go, Valentine, I implore you," he said earnestly.
The hunter unfastened a horse that was nibbling the young tree shoots in front of the lodge. "Go," he said, sadly, "go where your destiny drags you."
The young man thanked him warmly, leaped on the horse, and started off at full speed. Valentine looked after him for some time, and when the rider had disappeared, he gave vent to a profound sigh, as he murmured:
"He, too, loves—unhappy man!"
And he entered his mother's calli, to give her the morning kiss.
[CHAPTER XXXVI.]
THE LAST REFUGE.
We must now return to Red Cedar. When the squatter heard the yells of the redskins, and saw their torches flashing through the trees in the distance, he at the first start of terror thought himself lost, and burying his head in his hands, he would have fallen to the ground, had not Fray Ambrosio caught hold of him just in time.