"I don't like the thought of allowing those poor fellows to be devoured by the brutes," said Uncle Denis. "What do you say, Tidey? Will you accompany me, and try to bury them decently? We will go on horseback, and by keeping a bright look-out, there will be no risk of being surprised by the redskins, should they venture to return. I should like especially to pay all the respect we can to that poor lady." "With all my heart," answered the Dominie, "and if the captain agrees, we will take Martin and Dio." "And I'll go too," I said, "if my father will allow me." As he did not object, we immediately mounted our horses, Uncle Denis and the Dominie each carrying a spade, and the two men a pickaxe a-piece, while Boxer and Toby followed at our heels. As we galloped over the ground, we were not long in reaching the scene of the massacre. Dio, who had the sharpest eyes amongst us, was stationed to keep a look-out, while we, securing our horses, at once set about our melancholy task. We selected a spot under the branches of a wide-spreading oak for the grave of the poor lady. As the ground was soft it was soon dug. We then carried the body to it. We were on the point of placing it in, when the Dominie suggested that we should take off her wedding-ring and any ornament about her, that they might be given to her daughter, and that they might also serve to identify her, so that should we have an opportunity we might inform her relatives and friends of her fate. Besides the plain gold ring, was another of curious workmanship with an amethyst set in it, while secured round her neck by a silk ribbon Uncle Denis discovered a gold locket. Without stopping to examine it he placed it in his pouch. In the waggon were a few articles for family use, but we found nothing of value. No letters; no pocket-book which might serve to tell us who she was; everything had been carried off by the savages. Her husband, probably, was among the murdered men; and if we could find his body, we would, we agreed, place it in the grave of his wife. "That's more than we are likely to do," answered Uncle Denis; "let the poor lady rest alone." Accordingly, lifting her up, we placed her in the narrow grave, and although she was a stranger to me, I confess that I burst into tears as we hurriedly threw the earth over her. Martin had in the meantime commenced a larger grave for the men. Had they been our most intimate friends, we should have been unable to recognise them, so fearfully had their countenances been disfigured by the savages. The bodies too had been partly stripped, so that there was little difference in their dress to help us. In vain we endeavoured to ascertain which was the husband of the poor lady, and we had no time to devote to a close examination. We were not long in digging a shallow grave and burying the murdered men side by side. "We must place some logs over the poor lady's grave," said Uncle Denis, "so that we may know it again."