They started with the first dawn of the summer’s morning; but they had not gone far before they came upon traces of their companions.  Fritz’s quick eyes saw tracks in the forest which bespoke the near neighbourhood of Indians, and this made them all proceed with great caution.  The tracks, however, were some days old, he thought, and led away to the westward.  At one spot he pointed out to his companions certain indications which convinced him that a large number of Indians had lately been lying there.

“Pray Heaven it has not been an ambush sent to outwit and overpower our men!” he said.  “What would those raw lads from New Jersey do if suddenly confronted by a crew of yelling Indians?  I trust I am no coward myself, but the sound of that awful war whoop thrills me still with a kind of horror; it has been the forerunner of many a tragedy to the white man out in wildernesses such as this.”

“I have heard it once,” said Pringle, with an expressive gesture, “and I could well wish never to hear it again, did not duty to King and country drive me willingly forth to fight against these dusky savages, who make of these fair lands a veritable hell upon earth.

“Hark! what is that?”

It was like the sound of a faint cry not so very far away.  They listened, and it was presently repeated.  Fritz started forward at a run.

“That is no Indian voice,” he exclaimed; “it is one of our men calling for aid.  He has heard our voices.”

Followed by the rest of the party, Fritz ran forward, and soon came out into a more open glade, commanded by the ridge where he had observed the signs of Indian occupation.  As he did so he uttered a startled exclamation, which was repeated in all kinds of keys by those who came after.  For in this glade lay the bodies of full fifty of their soldiers, for the most part stripped and scalped; and the place was so trodden and bloodstained as to show plainly that it had been the scene of a bloody conflict.

Crawling forth from a little sheltered gorge was a wan, dishevelled figure, bloodstained and ghastly.  And Fritz, springing forward, caught the lad in his strong arms, whilst he fell to feeble sobbing in the plenitude of his thankfulness and relief.

When he was fed and heartened up he had a terrible tale to tell.

It had been as Fritz thought.  A party of Indians had been crouching in the forest, and had fallen upon the company unawares.  Colonel Parker had not been wise.  He had divided his men into two companies.  One had gone by boats, and one had skirted through the forest.  What had happened to the boats the lad could not tell.  He had been one of the very few survivors of the land party, and he owed his escape to his having fallen wounded and breathless into the little cleft in the rocks hidden by the thick undergrowth, so that the Indians did not find him when they made their search after scalps and accoutrements.

Crouching amongst the bushes, half fainting from terror, the lad had seen it all.