“They are here!” I cried, running forward, followed by Ernest; and we soon saw a dark-coloured figure approaching. I concluded it was a savage, and, though disappointed, was not alarmed, as he was alone. I stopped, and begged Ernest to recollect all the words he had met with in his books, of the language of the savages. The black man approached; and conceive my surprise when I heard him cry, in my own language—
“Don’t be alarmed, father, it is I, your son Fritz.”
“Is it possible,” said I; “can I believe it? and Jack? What have you done with my Jack? Where is he? Speak....”
Ernest did not ask. Alas! he knew too well; he had seen with his telescope that it was his dear brother Jack that was in the canoe with the savages; but he had not dared to tell me. I was in agony. Fritz, harassed with fatigue, and overwhelmed with grief, sunk down on the ground.
“Oh father!” said he, sobbing, “I dread to appear before you without my brother! I have lost him. Can you ever forgive your unfortunate Fritz?”
“Oh yes, yes; we are all equally unfortunate,” cried I, sinking down beside my son, while Ernest seated himself on the other side to support me. I then besought Fritz to tell me if the savages had murdered my dear boy. He assured me that he was not killed, but carried off by the savages; still he hoped he was safe. Ernest then told me he had seen him seated in the canoe, apparently without clothes, but not stained black as Fritz was.
“I earnestly wish he had been,” said Fritz; to that I attribute my escape. But I am truly thankful to God that you have seen him, Ernest. “Which way have the monsters gone?”
Ernest pointed out the cape, and Fritz was anxious that we should embark without delay, and endeavour to snatch him from them.
“And have you learned nothing of your mother and Francis?” said I.
“Alas! nothing,” said he; “though I think I recognized a handkerchief, belonging to dear mamma, on the head of a savage. I will tell you all my adventure as we go. You forgive me, dear father?”