steersman had a red-coat on, and as the boat drew nearer and he could make out the ruddy countenances of the crew, frank and open in expression, and catch the sound of their hearty English speech, he could not resist the impulse to swing his hat and wake the echoes with a lusty cheer. The Indians grinned and one clapped him on the back in high approval. The corporal in charge of the boat informed Morton that he belonged to the garrison of Coteau-du-lac and was, for the week, with the party on the point, to guard the south channel. There were so many Indians that the boat had to leave part for a second trip. On landing at the point Morton was warmly welcomed by the officer in charge, and given the best he had, which proved to be fried pork and biscuit. At noon the boat that daily brought supplies from Coteau arrived, and in it Morton with the Indians embarked. As soon as he stepped ashore, he made for the commander’s quarters and was shown into the presence of Col. Lethbridge. On announcing who he was, the Colonel welcomed him as one from the dead and impatiently demanded to hear when and how he had escaped. When he came to tell of the exploit of the preceding night, and that the Indians who had performed in it were waiting in the barrack-yard, the Colonel thumped the table and swore each man of them would take home all the tobacco and pork he could carry. Going out to see them before they left, Morton learned through an interpreter of Hemlock’s death and that his rescue was in fulfilment of an order he had left. They were going to Oka to join the party who were on the way from the Chateaugay with his body, to bury it beside that of his daughter, and hold a funeral lodge. Morton was deeply moved. “Faithful soul,” he exclaimed, “would to heaven he had lived that I might have shown him my gratitude.” Applying to the paymaster he obtained an advance, and in parting with the Indians pressed a big Mexican dollar into the hand of each of them.