“I can scarcely believe my senses. A few minutes ago I was a prisoner, and threatened by the Indians with a cruel death should they again be defeated.”
“We are truly thankful that you have escaped,” answered Uncle Donald, advancing and taking his hand.
“You owe your preservation to our friend Ponoko here.”
“I am indeed grateful to him,” said the stranger. “He preserved my life when so many of my companions were massacred. He has ever since continued my protector, but when it was supposed that he was killed, his people threatened to avenge his death by murdering me. Grateful as I am to him and to you, I am restored to liberty a ruined and a childless man, while I know not what has become of my poor wife, who was providentially absent from the settlement at the time of the massacre, but will have supposed that I, as well as our little girl, shared the common fate,” answered Mr Kennedy, for such he told us was his name.
“Should your child have escaped, do you believe you would recognise her?” asked Uncle Donald.
“Among a hundred!” answered the stranger. “I should know her, however much grown, from her likeness to her mother.”
As he spoke my sisters and Rose approached. The stranger glanced at the group, then rushing forward, gazed earnestly into Rose’s countenance.
“You would not deceive me!” he exclaimed. “Say, how did this young girl come to be with you? Rose, do you recollect me? Speak, my child, are you not Rose Kennedy?”
“Kennedy! Kennedy!” murmured Rose, looking greatly astonished and somewhat frightened. “Kennedy! Yes, that was my papa’s name.”