"there are two men I would like to meet with in this world before I
die. One is the young Injin who tried to save that girl's life, the
other is the cowardly villain that took it. I don't mean the one who
finished the bloody work: my rifle sent his accursed spirit to its
own place--"

"_Your_ rifle!" cried Charley, in amazement.

"Ay, mine! It was _my_ wife who was butchered by these savage dogs on
that dark night. Oh, what avails the strength o' that right arm!"
said Jacques, bitterly, as he lifted up his clenched fist; "it was
powerless to save _her_--the sweet girl who left her home and people
to follow me, a rough hunter, through the lonesome wilderness!"

He covered his face again, and groaned in agony of spirit, while his
whole frame quivered with emotion.

Jacques remained silent, and his sympathising friends refrained from
intruding on a sorrow which they felt they had no power to relieve.

At length he spoke. "Yes," said he, "I would give much to meet with
the man who tried to save her. I saw him do it twice; but the devils
about him were too eager to be balked of their prey."

Charley and the Indian exchanged glances. "That Indian's name," said
the former, "was _Redfeather!_"

"What!" exclaimed the trapper, jumping to his feet, and grasping
Redfeather, who had also risen, by the two shoulders, stared wildly
in his face; "was it _you_ that did it?"