“Him sorry-glad; but red man he no cry.”

There was much to damp the pleasure of this strange interview.  The uncouth costume, and the shaggy hair falling over the forehead, gave Willie such a wild appearance, it was hard for Charles to realize that they were brothers.  Inability to understand each other’s language created a chilling barrier between them.  Charles was in haste to change his brother’s dress, and acquire a stock of Indian words.  The interpreter was bound farther north; but he agreed to go with them three days’ journey, and teach them on the way.  They were merely guests at the encampment, and no one claimed a right to control their motions.  Charles distributed beads among the women and pipes among the men; and two hours after he had entered the wood, he was again mounted on his pony, with William and the interpreter walking beside him.  As he watched his brother’s erect figure striding along, with such a bold, free step, he admitted to himself that there were some important compensations for the deficiencies of Indian education.

Languages are learned rapidly, when the heart is a pupil.  Before they parted from the interpreter, the brothers were able, by the aid of pantomime, to interchange various skeletons of ideas, which imagination helped to clothe with bodies.  At the first post-town, a letter was despatched to their father, containing these words:  “I have found him.  He is well, and we are coming home.  Dear Lucy must teach baby Willie to crow and clap his hands.  God bless you all!  Charley.”

They pressed forward as fast as possible, and at the last stage of their journey travelled all night; for Charles had a special reason for wishing to arrive at the homestead on the following day.  The brothers were now dressed alike, and a family-likeness between them was obvious.  Willie’s shaggy hair had been cut, and the curtain of dark brown locks being turned aside revealed a well-shaped forehead whiter than his cheeks.  He had lost something of the freedom of his motions; for the new garments sat uneasily upon him, and he wore them with an air of constraint.

The warm golden light of the sun had changed to silvery brightness, and the air was cool and bracing, when they rode over the prairie so familiar to the eye of Charles, but which had lost nearly all the features that had been impressed on the boyish mind of William.  At a little distance from the village they left their horses and walked across the fields to the back-door of their father’s house; for they were not expected so soon, and Charles wished to take the family by surprise.  It was Thanksgiving day.  Wild turkeys were prepared for roasting, and the kitchen was redolent of pies and plum-pudding.  When they entered, no one was there but an old woman hired to help on festive occasions.  She uttered a little cry when she saw them; but Charles put his finger to his lip, and hurried on to the family sitting-room.  All were there,—­Father, Emma, Uncle George,