'Well, Mr. Hardy, I need not tell you, if our dear little Ethel is alive, we will follow you till we find her, if we are a year about it.' 'Thanks, thanks,' Mr. Hardy said earnestly. 'I feel a conviction that we shall yet recover her.' During this conversation they had been galloping rapidly towards the scene of the catastrophe, and, absorbed in their thoughts, not another word was spoken until they gained the first rise, from which they had been accustomed to see the pleasant house of the Mercers. An exclamation of rage and sorrow burst from them all, as only a portion of the chimney and a charred post or two showed where it had stood. The huts of the peons had also disappeared; the young trees and shrubs round the house were scorched up and burnt by the heat to which they had been exposed, or had been broken off from the spirit of wanton mischief. With clenched teeth, and faces pale with rage and anxiety, the party rode on past the site of the huts, scattered round which were the bodies of several of the murdered peons. They halted not until they drew rein, and leapt off in front of the house itself. It had been built entirely of wood, and only the stumps of the corner posts remained erect. The sun had so thoroughly dried the boards of which it was constructed, that it had burnt like so much tinder, and the quantity of ashes that remained was very small. Here and there, however, were uneven heaps; and in perfect silence, but with a sensation of overpowering dread, Mr. Hardy and his friends tied up their horses, and proceeded to examine these heaps, to see if they were formed by the remains of human beings. Very carefully they turned them over, and as they did so, their knowledge of the arrangements of the different rooms helped them to identify the various articles. Here was a bed, there a box of closely-packed linen, of which only the outer part was burnt, the interior bursting into flames as they turned it over; here was the storeroom, with its heaps of half-burnt flour where the sacks had stood. In half an hour they were able to say with tolerable certainty that no human beings had been burnt, for the bodies could not have been wholly consumed in such a speedy conflagration. Perhaps they have all been taken prisoners, Hubert suggested, as with a sigh of relief they concluded their search, and turned from the spot. Mr. Hardy shook his head. He was too well acquainted with the habits of the Indians to think such a thing possible. Just at this moment, Dash, who had followed them unnoticed during their ride, and who had been ranging about uneasily while they had been occupied by the search, set up a piteous howling. All started and looked round. The dog was standing by the edge of the ditch which had been dug outside the fence. Its head was raised high in air, and he was giving vent to prolonged and mournful howls.