"If Dumais," replied the Indian, "if Dumais and his wife and his children had fallen sick in the forest, Grand-Loutre would have carried them to his wigwam, would have fished for them and would have hunted for them, would have bought them the fire-water which is the Frenchman's medicine, and would have said, 'Eat and drink my brothers, and recover your strength.' Grand-Loutre and his squaw would have watched day and night by the couch of their French friends; and never would Grand-Loutre have said, 'Remember that I fed you and took care of you and bought fire-water for you with my furs.' Let my brother take the prisoner," continued the Indian, drawing himself up proudly; "the red-skin is no longer in debt to the pale face!" And he calmly resumed his smoking. "Listen, my brother," said the Canadian, "and pardon Dumais that he has hidden the truth. He knew not thy great heart. Now he is going to speak in the presence of the Great Spirit himself, in whose presence he dare not lie." "That is true," said the Indian, "let my brother speak." "When Grand-Loutre was sick two years ago," continued the Canadian, "Dumais told him about his adventure when the ice went out that spring at the Falls of St. Thomas, and how he was saved by a young Scotchman who had arrived that very evening at the house of the Seigneur de Beaumont." "My brother has told me," said the Indian, "and he has shown me the little island suspended over the abyss, whereon he awaited death. Grand-Loutre knew the place and the old cedar to which my brother clung." "Very well!" replied Dumais, rising and taking off his cap, "thy brother swears in the presence of the Great Spirit that the prisoner is none other than the young Scotchman who saved his life!" The Indian gave a great cry which went echoing wildly round the lake. He sprang to his feet, drew his knife, and rushed upon the captive. Lochiel thought his hour had come and commended his soul to God. What was his surprise when the savage cut his bonds, grasped his hands with every mark of delight, and pushed him into the arms of his friend. Dumais pressed Archie to his breast, then sank upon his knees and cried: "I have prayed to thee, O God, to extend the right arm of your protection over this noble and generous man. My wife and my children have never ceased to make the same prayer. I thank thee, O God, that thou hast granted me even more than I had dared to ask. I thank thee, O God, for I should have committed a crime to save his life, and should have gone to my grave a murderer." "Now," said Lochiel, after endeavoring to thank his rescuer, "let us get off as quickly as possible, my dear Dumais; for if my absence from camp is perceived I am ruined utterly. I will explain as we go."