The cluster of oaks was soon reached; the wounded man still lay without life; the dogs howled, but, at a sign from Keen-hand, they stood back silent. George and Samuel alighted, and examined the man. He was a tall, well made, even elegant man of about thirty or thirty-five; he was deadly pale; his features were well chiselled and delicate; his long, jet black hair fell in waving curls on his shoulders; a black crisp beard hid the lower part of his face; his mouth, large and slightly open, showed magnificent teeth of dazzling whiteness; his strong and aquiline nose gave a terribly hard expression to his face, while his eyes, far too close together, and which were shut, were shaded by long lashes, and crowned by heavy eyebrows that almost touched. The very sight of the man inspired instinctive repulsion, something like a chill, that sensation of terror and disgust which one feels at the sight of a reptile; still the man was handsome and elegant; he was well dressed, and his weapons were superior; his horse was extremely valuable. He was, to all appearance, a prince among adventurers. "Hum!" muttered Samuel Dickson, who was the first to speak; "I don't like his look at all." "No more do I," said George; "still, we cannot let him die." "Certainly not, since Providence has sent him here. Are we far from your hut?" replied Samuel. "Not far off, are we, Charbonneau? But, then, how can we carry him?" continued George; "I don't see anything except a litter." "Too long. Leave all to me. I will mount his horse; you can hand him up to me; I will then carry him in my arms to the wigwam--what say you?" "Admirable!" cried George, as Charbonneau mounted and stood still, awaiting his burden. George and Samuel then placed him before the guide. Charbonneau pressed his head against his chest, and started. Going slowly, they were an hour on the journey. The wigwam, as the hunter called it, was a charming habitation built of wood, upon the summit of an eminence, round which ran a silver stream, lined with well-constructed palisades. "Your house is delicious," said Samuel Dickson, examining the residence. "You should be very comfortable." "My good friend, I want for nothing except happiness." "Are you going to have the blues again?" said Samuel. "You know I hardly dare hope," replied George. "You are very foolish. When you are rich, young, and loved, Master George, you ought to hope for the best." "You are very cruel to joke with me." "I do not joke, I only try to inspire you with courage. But, look, here are your guests coming to meet you, while your servants seem to me to be rather muddled and mixed," observed Samuel. "It is the first time they have ever seen strangers." "Then," said Samuel, laughing, "they will have a change today." Three persons were advancing in the direction of the advancing troop. They were Bright-eye, Numank-Charake, the Huron chief, and Oliver.