On the Trail of Pontiac | Page 9

may have been their father or otherwise only a servant sent to take them to some place. But, be that as it may, we must discover where the little ones belong."
"Oh, let us keep them!" burst in little Nell "I want some little brothers to play with!"
"Hush, dear!" came from the mother. "Mayhap the mother of these little ones is this moment mourning for them and wondering where they can be."
The lockets were small, oval affairs, rather hard to open until a thin knife blade was inserted between the two parts of each. One contained a miniature of an old lady in court dress and the other a portrait of an elderly gentleman, with powdered wig and gold-rimmed spectacles. The face of each was full of kindness and nobleness.
"Two fine old folks, I'll warrant," came from Joseph Morris.
"More than likely the grandparents of the little ones," returned his brother.
"The lockets seem new," said Rodney. "Perhaps they were christening presents, or given to the babies on their first birthday."
"The babies look very much alike and seem of an age," said Mrs. Morris, who had by this time fed them all they cared to eat. "I doubt not but that they are twins."
"Just what I was thinking," said Henry. "You had better remember which locket belongs to each, or you may get 'em mixed up."
"Mercy on us! I never thought of that!" exclaimed his mother. "Let me see,--yes, the first locket came from this one," and she hastened to replace it.
"There is a slight difference in their looks," said Dave, after a close survey of the two tiny faces. "One has a rounder chin than the other and a flatter nose."
"Dave is right," answered his aunt. "But the difference is not very great."
"Will you keep the babies for the present?" questioned Sam Barringford. "I don't know what to do with 'em, I'm sartin."
"To be sure we will," said Mrs. Morris. "Poor dears! if it was their father who was killed, it may go hard with them."
The matter was talked over during the meal and for two hours afterward, but none could reach any conclusion regarding the identity of the little strangers. All agreed that the best thing to do would be to look for more clews as soon as the weather permitted.
There was a large Indian basket in the cabin, in which Dave and Henry usually brought in kindling for the fire. This was emptied and cleaned and in it was made a comfortable bed for the babies to sleep on. Having satisfied their hunger and become thoroughly warm both slept soundly, nor did they awaken until early morning.
By sunrise the storm was practically over, although a few hard particles of snow still whirled down in the high wind. Joseph Morris said they had better wait an hour or two longer for the wind to go down, and this was done.
"Can I go along?" asked Dave eagerly. "I'm sure I won't mind the walk at all."
"I'd like to go, too," added Henry; and when the party started it consisted of the two youths, their fathers, and Sam Barringford.
The men took turns at leading the way and breaking open the trail, no mean task when in some spots the snow lay to a depth of four and five feet. They kept as much as possible in the shelter of the trees and bushes, where the drifts were not so high. The sun, shining clearly, made the scene on all sides a dazzling one. Not a sound broke the stillness, birds and beasts being equally silent.
It took over an hour to reach the ruins of the Chelingworth cabin--one of the first erected in that territory and burnt four times before it was finally abandoned. As they passed the ruins Sam Barringford came to a halt.
"Listen!" he said briefly.
All did so, and at a distance heard a sudden yelping, which gradually increased.
"Wolves!" cried Henry.
"You are right," answered the old frontiersman. "Reckon they have come back to finish their work."
"Let us drive them off," put in Dave, with a shudder. "If there is anything left of the man, we ought to give him a decent burial."
"Yes, lad, I agree; but there ain't much left but bones."
All pushed forward and soon reached the spot where Sam Barringford had made his strange discovery. Five wolves were close by, sniffing eagerly through the snow, and more were in the rear.
"I've my shot-gun," said Dave. "Shall I give 'em a dose?"
"Yes," answered Barringford, and taking aim at two of the foremost wolves, the youth pulled the trigger of his weapon. The report was followed by a mad yelp of pain, and both wolves went down, one dead and the other badly wounded. The other wolves then ran off with all possible speed.
[Illustration: The report was followed by a mad yelp