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boys looked after them, and saw them disappear in the thick woods.
They remained in their covert until night, when they started again

on their long journey, taking a new route to avoid the Indians. At
daybreak they again concealed themselves, but travelled the next

night and day without resting. By this time they had consumed all
the bread which they had taken, and were fainting from hunger and

weariness. Just at the close of the third day they were
providentially enabled to kill a pigeon and a small tortoise, a part of

which they ate raw, not daring to make a fire, which might attract
the watchful eyes of savages. On the sixth day they struck upon an

old Indian path, and, following it until night, came suddenly upon a
camp of the enemy. Deep in the heart of the forest, under the

shelter of a ridge of land heavily timbered, a great fire of logs and
brushwood was burning; and around it the Indians sat, eating their

moose-meat and smoking their pipes.
The poor fugitives, starving, weary, and chilled by the cold spring

blasts, gazed down upon the ample fire, and the savory meats which
the squaws were cooking by it, but felt no temptation to purchase

warmth and food by surrendering themselves to captivity. Death in
the forest seemed preferable. They turned and fled back upon their

track, expecting every moment to hear the yells of pursuers. The
morning found them seated on the bank of a small stream, their feet

torn and bleeding, and their bodies emaciated. The elder, as a last
effort, made search for roots, and fortunately discovered a few

ground-nuts (*glycine apios*), which served to refresh in some
degree himself and his still weaker companion. As they stood

together by the stream, hesitating and almost despairing, it occurred
to Isaac that the rivulet might lead to a larger stream of water, and

that to the sea and the white settlements near it; and he resolved to
follow it. They again began their painful march; the day passed,

and the night once more overtook them. When the eighth morning
dawned, the younger of the boys found himself unable to rise from

his bed of leaves. Isaac endeavored to encourage him, dug roots,
and procured water for him; but the poor lad was utterly exhausted.

He had no longer heart or hope. The elder boy laid him on leaves
and dry grass at the foot of a tree, and with a heavy heart bade him

farewell. Alone he slowly and painfully proceeded down the
stream, now greatly increased in size by tributaryrivulets. On the

top of a hill he climbed with difficulty into a tree, and saw in the
distance what seemed to be a clearing and a newly-raised frame

building. Hopeful and rejoicing, he turned back to his young
companion, told him what he had seen, and, after chafing his limbs

awhile, got him upon his feet. Sometimes supporting him, and at
others carrying him on his back, the heroic boy staggered towards

the clearing. On reaching it he found it deserted, and was obliged
to continue his journey. Towards night signs of civilization began

to appear,--the heavy, continuous roar of water was heard; and,
presently emerging from the forest, he saw a great river dashing in

white foam down precipitous rocks, and on its bank the gray walls
of a huge stone building, with flankers, palisades, and moat, over

which the British flag was flying. This was the famous Saco Fort,
built by Governor Phips,(1) two years before, just below the falls of

the Saco River. The soldiers of the garrison gave the poor fellows
a kindly welcome. Joseph, who was scarcely alive, lay for a long

time sick in the fort; but Isaac soon regained his strength, and set
out for his home in Haverhill, which he had the good fortune to

arrive at in safety.
(1) An interesting account of Sir William Phips will be found in

Parkman's *Frontenac and New France under Louis XIV.*
Hawthorne also tells his romantic story in *Fanshawe and Other

Pieces.*
Amidst the stirring excitements of the present day, when every

thrill of the electric wire conveys a new subject for thought or
action to a generation as eager as the ancient Athenians for some

new thing, simple legends of the past like that which we have
transcribed have undoubtedly lost in a great degree their interest.

The lore of the fireside is becoming obsolete, and with the
octogenarian few who still linger among us will perish the unwritten

history of border life in New England.
End


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