"Yes, you were lucky though," answered his cousin. "Think of what that redskin got. It might have been your head instead of his."
"I've seen that Indian before, Henry. I can't tell where, exactly, but I think it was out at father's trading post."
"That's not unlikely. I suppose all those rascally French Indians came on with the French soldiers and traders to wipe us out. Well, they got what they least expected."
While the majority of the rangers were resting several of the number went off in search of game, for provisions were now running low. The most of the birds and wild animals had been scared away by the noise of battle, and the hunters had to beat about for several miles before they found what they wanted.
On the return to the camp beside the river they heard a man calling feebly in French, and moving toward the sound, discovered a French trader lying in some brushwood, covered with blood and dirt, the picture of weakness and despair. The trader had been shot in the leg and could not walk and was suffering for the want of food and water as well as attention to his wound.
"For ze love of heaven, do not leave me here,"
