In describing the events of that morning but little mention has been made of Michel's children; they were not, however, forgotten. As soon as the first shock of the discovery was over, and the women had a little expended their feelings and emotions in the tears and wail of sorrow, they began to turn their attention to the motherless little ones. And first they gave them food, which would be an Indian's preliminary step under every emergency; then, they folded kind motherly arms around them, and imprinted warm kisses on the terror-stricken faces; and by all such fond endearments they strove to make them forget their sorrow: for an Indian, passive and undemonstrative as he may be under ordinary circumstances, is full of love and tenderest offices of pity when real occasion calls them forth. It was thus, then, that the children were taken and dispersed among the various families in the rapid flight from their recent camping grounds. The canoes had started, and were being paddled at full speed across the river, when suddenly, to the dismay and amazement of every one, the figure of Michel was seen standing by the river brink! Had a spectre at that moment presented itself before them, they could hardly have been more astonished; but the poor man's actions were at all times strange and unaccountable; and that he should have released himself in so short an interval from his bonds, was only consistent with the whole character of the man who had always proved himself equal to every emergency, and defied any attempt to thwart his designs. The language used by the miserable man on the present occasion was bitter and abusive; it related to his children, who he said were being taken away that they might be delivered to the white man; but his words fell idly upon the ears of the Indians, who only shuddered as they gazed upon his dark visage now distorted with passion; and his whole figure, to which portions of the cords which had bound him were still clinging, presenting the appearance of a man possessed, the veritable Nakani--(wild man of the woods,) in whom the Indians believe, and whom they so greatly dread. It was not until the Indians had reached the other side of the river, which at that part may be a mile and a quarter wide, that they collected together and became aware that _one of the children was missing!_ That this should be so, and that in their terror and haste to depart they had forgotten or overlooked the baby, still a nursling, who must have been crawling about outside the camp during the fatal tragedy of that morning, may seem strange. More strange still, that not one of that party should have thought of going back to seek her. But the female infant occupies an insignificant place among those uncivilized people: the birth of one of them is greeted with but a small fraction of the honours with which a male child would be welcomed.