We must return now to Robin Gore and his wife, who, on the morning on which we re-introduce them to the reader, were standing in the trading store of Fort Enterprise, conversing earnestly with Black, the Indian, who has been already mentioned at the beginning of our tale. The wife of the latter—the White Swan—was busily engaged in counting over the pack of furs that lay open on the counter, absorbed, apparently, in an abstruse calculation as to how many yards of cloth and strings of beads they would purchase.

“Well, I’m glad that’s fixed, anyhow,” said Robin to his wife, as he turned to the Indian with a satisfied air, and addressed him in his native tongue, “it’s a bargain, then, that you an’ Slugs go with me on this expedition, is’t so?”

“The Black Swan is ready,” replied the Indian, quietly, “and he thinks that Slugs will go too—but the white hunter is self-willed; he has a mouth—ask himself.”

“Ay, ye don’t like to answer for him,” said Robin, with a smile; “assuredly Slugs has his own notions, and holds to ’em; but I’ll ask him. He is to be here this night, with a deer, I hope, for there are many mouths to fill.”

Black Swan, who was a tall, taciturn, and powerful Indian, here glanced at his wife, who was, like most Indian women, a humble-looking and not very pretty or clean creature. Turning again to Robin, he said, in a low, soft voice—

“The White Swan is not strong, and she is not used to be alone.”

“I understand you,” said Robin; “she shall come to the Fort, and be looked after. You won’t object to take her in, Molly, when we’re away?”

“Object, Robin,” said Molly, with a smile, which was accompanied by a sigh, “I’ll only be too glad to have her company.”

“Well, then, that’s settled; and now, Black Swan, I may as well tell you what coorse I mean to follow out in this sarch for my child’n. You know already that four white men—strangers—have come to the Fort, an’ are now smokin’ their pipes in the hall, but you don’t know that one on ’em is my own brother Jefferson; Jeff, I’ve bin used to call him. Jeff’s bin a harem-scarem feller all his life—active and able enough, an’ good natur’d too, but he never could stick to nothin’, an’ so he’s bin wanderin’ about the world till grey hairs have begun to show on him, without gettin’ a home or a wife. The last thing he tried was stokin’ a steamboat on the Mississippi; but the boat blew up, pitched a lot o’ the passengers into the water, an’ the rest o’ them into the next world. Jeff was always in luck with his life; he’s lost everythin’ over an’ over again but that. He was one o’ the lot as was blowed into the water, so, when he come up he swamed ashore, an’ come straight away here to visit me, bringin’ three o’ the blowed-up passengers with him. The three are somethin’ like himself; good for nothin’; an’ I’d rather have their room than their company at most times. Hows’ever, just at this time I’m very glad they’ve come, for I’ll leave them in charge o’ the Fort, and set off to look for the child’n in two days from this. I’ll take Walter and Larry wi’ me, for brother Jeff is able enough to manage the trade if redskins come; he can fight too, if need be. The Gore family could always do that, so ye needn’t be afraid, Molly.”

“I’ll not be afraid, Robin, but I’ll be anxious about ye.”

“That’s nat’ral, lass, but it can’t be helped. Well, then,” continued Robin, “the five of us will start for the Black Hills. I’ve bin told by a redskin who comed here last week that he an’ his tribe had had a scrimmage with Hawk an’ the reptiles that follow him. He says that there was a white boy an’ a white girl with Hawk’s party, an’ from his account of ’em I’m sartin sure it’s my Roy and Nelly. God help ’em! ‘but,’ says he, ‘they made their escape durin’ the attack, an’ we followed our enemies so far that we didn’t think it worth while to return to look for ’em, so I’m convinced they made for the Black Hills, nigh which Hawk was attacked, an’ if we follow ’em up there we may find ’em alive yet, mayhap.’”

Poor Robin’s voice became deeper and less animated as he spoke, and the last word was uttered with hesitation and in a whisper.

“O Robin, Robin!” exclaimed Mrs Gore, throwing her arms suddenly round her husband’s neck, and hiding her sobbing face in his breast, “d’ye think they can still be alive?”

“Come, Molly,” said Robin, commanding his feelings with a great effort, “han’t ye often read to me that wi’ God all things is possible?”

The poor woman thanked God in her heart, for up to that day Robin had never once quoted Scripture in his efforts to comfort her.

“Was Wapaw with Hawk when they were attacked?” inquired the Black Swan.

“Wapaw is dead,” said a deep voice, as the huge form of a western hunter darkened the little doorway, and the next moment Slugs strode into the store, and quietly seated himself on the counter.

“Dead!” exclaimed Robin, as he shook the hunter’s proffered hand.

“Ay, dead! Have ye no word of welcome for a chum after a month’s absence?” said Slugs, holding out his horny hand to the Black Swan, who gravely grasped and shook it.

“You redskins are a queer lot,” said Slugs, with a grin, “yer as stiff as a rifle ramrod to look at, but there’s warm and good stuff in ’ee for all that.”

“But what about Wapaw?” inquired Mrs Gore, anxiously; “surely he’s not dead.”

“If he’s not dead he’s not livin’, for I saw Hawk himself, not four weeks ago, shoot him and follow him up with his tomahawk, and then heard their shout as they killed him. Where did he say he was goin’ when he left you?”

“He said he would go down to the settlements to see the missionaries, an’ that he tho............