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“An’ for what will he no tell?” asked Mrs Forsyth.

“That he kens best. Maybe gratitude to an Indian ca’d Hemlock seals his lips, for oor men believe he was with him at the time.”

“What does Hemlock say?” interjected Maggie.

“He’s no in camp. He came back three days ago and left for Oka, where he bides.”

Until bedtime Morton was the subject of conversation, and the more they talked of him the keener their interest grew in his serious situation. That one whom they had learned to like and respect so much should die an ignominious death shocked them, and even Mrs Forsyth was constrained to say, that much as she disliked Yankees, “Gin I were near eneuch to walk to him, I wad gang on my knees to Hampton to beg his life.”

Next morning, while engaged in the stable, Mr Forsyth was surprised by the appearance of his daughter.

“Hey, my woman, what’s garrd you to come oot in the grey o’ the mornin’? Time eneuch an hour frae this.”

“Father, I could not sleep and I wanted to speak to you. If Hemlock was brought back, would he not save Morton?”