"Where is she now?" he inquired eagerly.
"She died after we began this sad journey," I said.
The stranger was silent, stifling some deep emotion.
"Your sister is like her,—very like what she was at the same age. You have heard of Jeff Crockett, boy? I am your Uncle Jeff; and though I have much to mourn for, I thank Heaven I was sent to rescue Mary's children in their distress. And Clarice! she has been to me as an angel of light. You remember that she gave me a book. I took it to please her, not intending to read it; but I did read it, and it showed me what I was—a wretched, lost sinner. I learned that I was like the prodigal son; and as I heard that my earthly father was no more, I determined to go to my Heavenly Father, knowing that he would receive me. He has done so, and I can now say honestly that I am a Christian, and fit to take charge of Mary's children."
I need say very little more than that from this time Uncle Jeff constituted himself our guardian, and that we thankfully accompanied him to the new location he was forming at Roaring Water.
And now I shall resume my narrative at the point at which I interrupted it to give the reader a bit of my family history.
CHAPTER IV.
AS THE LIEUTENANT AND I ARE STARTING, WE HEAR THAT KLITZ AND BARNEY HAVE GONE OFF WITH A WHEELBARROW FOR CALIFORNIA—A PLEASANT BIVOUAC—AT LAST WE CATCH SIGHT OF THE DESERTERS—THE LIEUTENANT IS ABOUT TO RIDE AFTER THEM, WHEN A PARTY OF INDIANS APPEAR—THE INDIANS TAKE TO FLIGHT, AND WE LOSE SIGHT OF THE RUNAWAYS—FORM OUR CAMP—DISCOVER THAT WE ARE WATCHED—FOLLOW THE SPY, WHO PROVES TO BE MAYSOTTA—FIND THE DESERTERS TAKING THEIR EASE—WE CAPTURE THEM, AND, GUIDED BY MAYSOTTA, TAKE THEM TO THE INDIAN CAMP—RESOLVE TO RETURN TO THE FARM.