My good man, I will tell you all I know about the Indians. I have told you that they stole me at the Shinglekill, in the country of the Cahoonshees. I had friends who followed me, and with them was my faithful dog Rolla. It was that party that was seen by the party that went in search of this girl, and they are all dead. To lighten the canoe, they took hold of the rope that you saw about their bodies, and jumped overboard. I pulled the toggle and cast them adrift. You know the rest. Brave girl, said the old man seizing Amy’s hand. There are five less of the murderous dogs. I wish that the whole tribe had been tied to that rope. Girls, I have not always been what I now appear to be. I once had a wife and a happy home. The first year of our marriage, she became the mother of twins. They grew up to be young ladies. On my return home one night, I found my house burned, and my wife and daughters dead and scalped. The Stockbridge Indians did it. I could not live in that desolate home where so many things reminded me of former days. I removed to this island. The clothes you have on and the clothes you see in the trunk were once worn by those I loved. But the Indians robbed me of all. Stealing was their business. Years ago they stole an infant on this very island almost from its mother’s arms, and from that day to this, Captain Davis has mourned the loss of his child. Rewards have been offered and search made among all the tribes, but no child found. It probably died soon after it was stolen, as it had a mark on its breast that would have led to its discovery if living. What was the mark? asked Cora and Amy at the same time. A ship, and the letters C. D. on the top, and E. N. on the bottom. If you belong on board of the Reindeer, you should have heard them speak of their child. I have, repeatedly, replied Cora. And to-morrow we intended to start for the Delaware Valley in search of him. Lieutenant Wallace was to be in charge of the searching party. Amy turned pale and staggered back. That name brought to her recollection the days of her childhood. Her father, mother, and her home on the Callicoon. Both Cora and the old man noticed her emotions, and the struggle she was making to suppress them. You are a brave girl, said old Shell, but you haven’t got the timber in you to stand the strain that you have been subjected to. You had better go to bed and get some rest, and in the morning I will take you on board of the Reindeer. Right in there is a good feather bed made by the girls whose dress you have on. Go in there, and I will watch over you as I would over them. The girls retired, and Cora was soon in a deep sleep. Not so with Amy. Her thoughts were on Walter Wallace. It was plain to her that the child mentioned by the old man was Charles Drake. That many a time she had looked at the mark on his breast, and it was just as the old man had described it. But who was this Lieutenant Wallace that was going to the Delaware Valley to look for Drake?