Frequently I mistook the trees in the twilight,
which was now coming on, for moving objects. At last, I was not
deceived, I saw distinctly a figure walking rapidly.
"They are here!" I cried, running forward, followed by Ernest; and we
soon saw a dark-coloured figure approaching. I concluded it was a
savage, and, though disappointed, was not alarmed, as he was alone. I
stopped, and begged Ernest to recollect all the words he had met with in
his books, of the language of the savages. The black man approached; and
conceive my surprise when I heard him cry, in my own language--
"Don't be alarmed, father, it is I, your son Fritz."
"Is it possible," said I; "can I believe it? and Jack? What have you
done with my Jack? Where is he? Speak...."
Ernest did not ask. Alas! he knew too well; he had seen with his
telescope that it was his dear brother Jack that was in the canoe with
the savages; but he had not dared to tell me. I was in agony. Fritz,
harassed with fatigue, and overwhelmed with grief, sunk down on
the ground.
"Oh father!" said he, sobbing, "I dread to appear before you without my
brother! I have lost him. Can you ever forgive your unfortunate Fritz?"
"Oh yes, yes; we are all equally unfortunate," cried I, sinking down
beside my son, while Ernest seated himself on the other side to support
me.
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