Humphrey was afraid of these wild outbursts, as likely to bring on fever; and yet he could not but desire to know more.

“A white man?  Nay, brother; that is scarce to be believed.  A white man to league himself to such deeds as these!”

“A white man—­a Frenchman.  For I called upon him in our tongue, and he answered me in the same, but with that halting accent which I know belongs to the sons of France.  Moreover, he made no secret of it.  He called us dogs of English, who were robbers of the soil where none had right to penetrate save the subjects of his royal master.  He swore that they would make an end of us, root and branch; and he laughed when he saw the Indians cutting down the little ones, and covering their tender bodies with cruel wounds; nor had he any pity upon the one white woman; and when I raved upon him and cursed him, he laughed back, and said he had no power to allay the fury of the savages.  Those who would preserve themselves safe should retire within the bounds of the colony to which they belong.  France would have an end of encroachment, and the Indians were her friends, and would help her to drive out the common foe!”

Humphrey set his teeth and clinched his hands.  The old instinctive hatred of centuries between French and English, never really dead, now leaped into life in his breast.  He had heard plenty of talk during his boyhood of France’s boundless pretensions with regard to the great New World of the West, and how she sought, by the simple process of declaring territory to be hers, to extend her power over millions of miles of the untrodden plains and forests, which she could never hope to populate.  He had laughed with others at these claims, and had thought little enough of them when with father and brother he set out for the western frontier.

There was then peace between the nations.  Nor had it entered into the calculations of the settlers that their white brethren would stir up the friendly Indians against them, and bring havoc and destruction to their scattered dwellings.  That was a method of warfare undreamed of a few years back; but it was now becoming a terrible reality.

“But your life was spared?” said Humphrey at last; “and yet the scalping-knife came very close to doing its horrid work.”

“Yes:  they spared me—­he spared me—­when he had made me suffer what was tenfold worse than death; yet I wot well he only thought to leave me to a lingering death of anguish, more terrible than that of the scalping knife!  They knew not that I had any to come to my succour.  When he drew off the howling Indians and left me bound to the stump, he thought he left me to perish of starvation and burning thirst.  It was no mercy that he showed me—­rather a refinement of cruelty.  I begged him to make an end of my wretched life; but he smiled, and bid me a mocking farewell.

“Great God of heaven and earth, look down and avenge me of mine adversary!  I trust there are not many such fiends in human shape even in the ranks of the jealous and all-grasping French.  But if there be, may it be mine to carry death and desolation into their ranks!  May they be driven forth from this fair land which they have helped to desolate!  May death and destruction come swiftly upon them; and when they fall, let them rise up no more!”