Mrs. Godfrey, completely surprised, laid her head upon the dying woman’s bed.  The shawl, a red and black plaid, she had given old Mag at Grimross.  Now it was used for her dying pillow.  The old Indian woman fairly worshipped it in her days of health and strength.  And the ring was also presented to old Mag while a prisoner at Grimross.  The afternoon that old Mag was given the ring was one never to be forgotten by Mrs. Godfrey.  The old Iroquois squaw on that occasion danced the war dance on the kitchen floor, so great was her joy in receiving the precious gem.

Margaret asked Paul where he had found his mother on his return from the setting sun.  He then related to her in broken English the following story:—­

He had returned from his hunting expedition on the evening of the day the house at Grimross had been consumed by the flames.  He had been detained with the officers one month longer than he expected to be when he left home.  On his arrival home he found that his mother was missing.  He made inquiries as to her whereabouts, and was told that she had gone off with three Indians named Nick Thoma, Pete Paul, and Christopher Cope, to trade furs for some pork, blankets and powder at Grimross.  That white woman had killed the three Indians; that white man’s house was burnt, and white woman had put his mother into the flames and burnt her up.  Early in the morning after his arrival home he set out for Grimross Neck, crossing the lake where the sloop lay.  When he arrived at Grimross he saw nothing but blackened ruins, and was convinced the Indian’s story was true.  He saw also the dead bodies of the three Indians, he could not recognize them, they were so cooked by the fire.  He walked about the ruins, almost bewildered, and swearing vengeance.  Not many steps from where the house had stood were dense woods.  He wandered in among the trees scarcely knowing where he was going, when to his surprise he saw his mother sitting down on the snow with her back resting against a large tree, her feet and knees covered with blankets.  He pulled off one blanket, then another, and yet another, but his mother never moved.  She sat as motionless as the tree itself.  Her face was covered with frozen blood.  He took hold of her shoulders and shook her when she appeared to breathe.  After rubbing her hands and beating her feet on the frozen snow for a long time she began to move her limbs.  And finally he got her to stand on her feet.  Her eyes were swollen and completely closed.  He was at a loss to know how he was to get her to the camp twelve miles distant.  Part of the journey was comparatively easy; they could go by way of the lake.  At four o’clock he started with his mother for the camp, she could only walk slowly and with great difficulty.  They made many stops on the way and reached the camp long after midnight.  About noon the next day the old woman had gained sufficient strength to tell her story.  She said “she went first time with Indians to