"What a change has come over my flock within a few days! my husband, and Sarah, and dear little Bub murdered by the Indians, and Charlie, also, I suppose I must say, although there is something peculiarly trying in the mystery that hangs over his fate." "You do not really know, then, what became of him," observed Mrs. McElroy. "No; and this uncertainty is agonizing. Perhaps he was captured by the Indians, and may be at this very moment suffering the most barbarous treatment from them; or the dear boy may have been devoured by a wild beast, or he may be starving in the wilderness. This suspense concerning him is too much to bear;" and she looked anxiously out of the window. But the hour for dinner had arrived, and Mrs. Jones and Robert went down with the others to dine. As they entered the dining-room, the general directed their attention to the corner of the room; and there, wrapped in his blanket, sat an Indian, whom Mrs. Jones, after the first start of surprise, recognized as Long Hair. "Mrs. Jones," said the general, "perhaps you can find out what the red-skin wants. He isn't very communicative with me, but seems anxious to see your Tom." "I am glad to meet you," said Mrs. Jones, kindly, to the savage. "Have you anything of importance to communicate?" But Long Hair appeared as if something had gone wrong with him, and sat in moody silence. "Will you not speak to me, Long Hair?" asked Mrs. Jones. "You know I've always treated you well--have I not?" "White squaw good to Injin. Sojer say Injin lie; sojer call Long Hair dog; tell him go way." "Some of your men have ill-treated Long Hair, I'm afraid," said Mrs. Jones to the general. "Well," said the general, "I'll see that they don't do it any more;" and, wishing to propitiate the tawny brave, he added, "perhaps Long Hair would take some dinner with us." But the Indian wasn't so easily appeased, and said,-- "Long Hair no beggar-dog; Long Hair shoot deer, shoot raccoon, catch fish, plenty!" "But," interposed Mrs. Jones, "didn't you bring some venison to my cabin one day, and did I refuse it, Long Hair?" "White squaw good," he repeated; "Long Hair never forget. Long Hair sick; white squaw medicine him. Long Hair kill deer for white squaw." "Yes," said Mrs. Jones; "you were sick, and I took care of you, as I ought to; and you have been very kind to me and mine, and I shall never forget it."