I had been too intently occupied, during the night, to think of much beside the immediate business in hand, but I now turned my eyes upon the inmates of the house. These consisted of four persons,—a husband and wife of middle age, and a son and daughter now in the flower of youth. The thought again crossed my mind that here were my parents, my brother and my sister. At last, in the conviction that this was so, I placed myself before the matron, and said, as well as I knew how, “Did you ever lose a son?”
“Yes, yes! why do you ask?” said she, looking at me with intense curiosity.
“He is here,” said I.
“You my son?” said she.
But I cannot describe the scene. It will be sufficient for the reader to know that I had the happiness this day of being restored to my family and saving them from the perils of an Indian assault.
“Where have you been this week?” “Me? I’ve been fishing.” “Catch anything?” “Yes, a cold.” “Where were you last night?” “Ducking.” “Get any?” “Yes, one.” “Where?” “In the river.” “How?” “Tumbled in.”
Inquisitive Jack.
CHAPTER XI.
About Butterflies.