"No; mother and I thought you were dead, and yet, at times, we would have hope of you still being alive. I was searching mainly for the honour of grandfather and to remove the stain from our name." "A true son of your race," said the old man warmly and with pride. "Ye are just the same as I was at your age. I might have known ye for my son, and yet the letter of your death and your mother's death took all thought on that subject from my mind." The pilot with a sense of delicacy, and wondering to himself, had withdrawn from the scene at the start, but was now returning. He saw them seated side by side on the bearskin, and seating himself near them listened with interest to the tales of both father and son. Before beginning his narrative of his eventful life he turned to the pilot. "Hugh, this is my son, Andrew Trembath, who with his mother I had long thought dead, and I must introduce myself also, for the Loop and the settlers of Lycamahoning will see me not much longer. Now I know that my wife is living I shall return to the place of my birth. I have long been known by the name of Hunter Tom, and unknown by any other. I am Thomas Trembath, once Major of the 6th Royal Infantry of England, and have been a soldier in three wars, the War of the Colonies against England, the Peninsular War under the great Wellington, and the War of 1812 under Brock and Proctor. The tale of my whole life would be useless, but it is but fair to my son to narrate the last one, and the history of my hunter life here. Ye must know that there was a stain of treason against our house." Hugh nodded his head. "I mentioned that to him the first night I spent at his home," interjected Ande.