I am weary of this place--anything is better than this horrible solitude." And Louis fanned the flame into a rapid blaze, and heaped up the light dry branches till it soared up among the bushes.

Louis watched the effect of his fire, and rubbed his hands gleefully as the bark canoe was pushed off from the island, and a few vigorous strokes of the paddle sent it dancing over the surface of the calm lake.
Louis waved his cap above his head with a cheer of welcome as the vessel lightly glided into the little cove, near the spot where the boys were chopping, and a stout-framed, weather-beaten man, in a blanket coat, also faded and weather-beaten, with a red worsted sash and worn mocassins, sprung upon one of the timbers of Louis's old raft, and gazed with a keen eye upon the lads.

Each party silently regarded the other.

A few rapid interrogations from the stranger, uttered in the broad patois of the Lower Province, were answered in a mixture of broken French and English by Louis.
A change like lightning passed over the face of the old man as he cried out--"Louis Perron, son of my ancient compagnon." "Oui! oui!"-- with eyes sparkling through tears of joy, Louis threw himself into the broad breast of Jacob Morelle, his father's friend and old lumbering comrade.
"Hector, son of la belle Catharine Perron,--and Hector, in his turn, received the affectionate embrace of the warm-hearted old man.
"Who would have thought of meeting with the children of my old comrade here at the shore of the Rice Lake ?--oh! what a joyful meeting!" Jacob had a hundred questions to ask: Where were their parents?
did they live on the Plains now?
how long was it since they had left the Cold Springs?
were there any more little ones?
and so forth.
The boys looked sorrowfully at each other.

At last the old man stopped for want of breath, and remarked their sad looks.
"What, mes fils, are your parents dead?
Ah well! I did not think to have outlived them; but they have not led such healthy lives as old Jacob Morelle--hunting, fishing, lumbering, trapping,--those are the things to harden a man and make him as tough as a stock-fish--eh! mes enfans, is it not so ?" Hector then told the old lumberer how long they had been separated from their families, and by what sad accident they had been deprived of the society of their beloved sister.