Humphrey’s face brightened with a look of joyful relief, and Fritz exclaimed heartily: 

“Yes, yes, Julian is a notable leech.  We all come to him with our troubles both of body and mind.

“Lead on, comrade.  I will cook the supper whilst you and he tend the sick man; and afterwards we will tell all our tale; and take counsel for the future.”

It was new life to Humphrey to hear the sound of human voices, to feel the touch of friendly hands, to know himself not alone in the awful isolation of the vast forest.  He led the way to the rough shed, which he had contrived during the past days to convert into a rude species of sleeping and living room.  He had made a hearth and a chimney, so that he could cook food whilst still keeping an eye upon his sick brother.  He had contrived a certain amount of rude comfort in Charles’s bed and surroundings.  The place looked pleasant to the wearied, travellers, for it was spotlessly clean, and it afforded shelter from the keen night air.

They had been finding the nights grow cold as they journeyed northward, and Fritz rubbed his hands at sight of the glow of the fire, and set to work eagerly upon his culinary tasks; whilst Julian and Humphrey bent over Charles, the former examining the condition of his pulse and skin with the air of one who knows how to combat the symptoms of illness.

He administered a draught, and bathed the sick man’s temples with some pungent decoction of herbs which he prepared with hot water; and after giving him a small quantity of soup, told Humphrey that he would probably sleep quietly all night, and might very likely awake without any fever, though as weak as a child.

And in effect only a short time elapsed before his eyes closed, and he sank into a peaceful slumber, such as he had not known throughout the past days.

“Thank God you came!” said Humphrey with fervour; “I had thought to bury my brother here beside his wife, and the loneliness and horror had well nigh driven me mad.  If he live, I shall have something left to live for; else I could have wished that we had all perished together!”

“Nay,” cried Fritz from the fire, “we can do better than that:  we can join those who have the welfare of the country at heart.  We can punish proud France for her ambition and encroachments, and perchance—­who knows?—­England’s flag may ere long proudly wave where now only the banner of France has floated from her scattered forts.”

But just at this moment Humphrey could not be roused to any patriotic fervour.  The sense of personal loss and horror was strong upon him.  His thoughts were turning vaguely towards the mother country from which his fathers had come.  For the moment the wild West was hateful to him.  He could not face the thought of taking up the old life again.  He had been uprooted too suddenly and ruthlessly.  The spell of the forest was gone.  Sometimes he felt that he never wished to look upon waving trees again.