"If that had been the case, there would have been the track of the bear's feet in the snow. It does not, however, follow that the boy is dead, though it is more than probable. I knew of a case where two boys and a girl were sent into the woods by their mother to fetch home the cows. The children were lost. The parents mourned them for dead, for all search after them proved fruitless. At length, after seven years, the eldest son returned. The children had been overtaken and carried off by a party of Indians, who belonged to a tribe who inhabited the islands in Lake Huron, and who were out on a hunting expedition. They took them many hundred miles away from their forest home, and adopted them as their own. The girl, when she grew up, married one of the tribe; the boys followed the occupation of hunters and fishers, and, from their dress and appearance, might have passed for aborigines of the forest. The eldest boy, however, never forgot his own name, or the manner in which he had been separated from his parents. He distinctly remembered the township and the natural features of the locality, and took the first opportunity of making his escape, and travelling back to the home of his childhood. "When he made himself known to his mother, who was a widow, but resided on the same spot, he was so dark and Indian-like that she could not believe that it was really her son, until he brought back to her mind a little incident that, forgotten by her, had never left his memory. "'Mother, don't you remember saying to me on that afternoon, Ned, you need not look for the cows in the swamp,--they went off towards the big hill!' "The delighted mother immediately caught him to her heart, exclaiming, 'You say truly,--you are my own, my long-lost son!'" [This, and the two preceding chapters, were written for "Roughing it in the Bush," and were sent to England to make a part of that work, but came too late for insertion, which will account to the reader for their appearance here.] The Canadian Herd-Boy. "Through the deep woods, at peep of day, The careless herd-boy wends his way, By piny ridge and forest stream, To summon home his roving team-- Cobos! cobos! from distant dell Shy echo wafts the cattle-bell. "A blithe reply he whistles back, And follows out the devious track, O'er fallen tree and mossy stone-- A path to all, save him, unknown. Cobos! cobos! far down the dell More faintly falls the cattle-bell. "See the dark swamp before him throws A tangled maze of cedar boughs; On all around deep silence broods, In nature's boundless solitudes. Cobos! cobos! the breezes swell, As nearer floats the cattle-bell. "He sees them now--beneath yon trees His motley herd recline at ease; With lazy pace and sullen stare, They slowly leave their shady lair. Cobos! cobos!--far up the dell Quick jingling comes the cattle-bell!" CHAPTER XIV Toronto