“We part.  We are gone.  When you read this letter, the sea, for some distance, will extend between us.  We shall live and move elsewhere, but our hearts still with you.  We wish that Ernest and Frank would erect a flagstaff on the spot where we last parted with our parents.  It may be to us what the celestial standard bearing the scroll, in hoc signo vinces was to the Emperor Constantine.  The place is already sacred, and may be hallowed by your prayers for us.  Our confidence in the divine mercy is boundless.  Do not despair of seeing us again.  We have no misgivings, not one of us but anticipates confidently the period when we shall return and bring with us health, happiness, and prosperity to you all.

“Let me add a word,” said Jack.

“The sea is calm, our hearts are firm, our enterprise is under the protection of Heaven—­there never was an undertaking commenced under more favorable auspices.  Farewell then, once more, farewell.  All our aspirations are for you.

“FRITZ.

“JACK.

“P.S.—­Willis was going to write a line or two when, lo and behold! a big tear rolled upon the paper.  ‘Ha!’ said he, ’that is enough, I will not write a word, they will understand that, I think,’ and he threw down the pen.”

“How is the letter to be sent on shore?” inquired Fritz.

“There is a cage of pigeons on board the pinnace,” replied Jack, “but I do not want them to know that, for, if they should expect to hear from us, and some accident happen to the pigeons, they might be dreadfully disappointed.”

“We can return on shore,” observed Willis, “and place it on the spot, where we embarked; they are sure to be there to-morrow.”

This suggestion was incontinently adopted.  The letter was attached to a small cross, and fixed in the ground.  The voyagers had all re-embarked in the pinnace, which was destined to bear even more than Caesar and his fortunes.  Willis had already loosened the warp, when, a thought crossed the mind of Fritz.

“I must revisit Falcon’s Nest once more,” said he.

“What!” cried Willis, “you are not going to get up such another scene as we witnessed an hour or two ago?”

“No, Willis, I mean to go by stealth like the Indian trapper, so as to be seen by no mortal eye.  I wish to take one more look at the old familiar trees, and endeavor to ascertain whether my mother has reached home in safety.”

“But the dogs?” objected Willis.

“The dogs know me too well to give the slightest alarm at my approach.  I shall not be long gone; but really I must go, the desire is too powerful within me to be resisted.”

“I will go with you,” said Jack.

Here Willis shook his head and reflected an instant.

“You are not angry with us, Willis, are you?”

“Not at all,” he replied, “and I think the best thing I can do, under the circumstances, is to go too.”