the root of a tree, was now heard. The three squaws gathered close together and listened. Similar sounds soon followed, and human voices also were heard, at intervals, in the distance.
"The ax of the white man!" said Brown Wren.
"The voices of the Frenchmen!" said Blue Top.
"Woe! woe! we are lost," cried Pink Ear, starting hastily toward the wigwam. "The Canaders have come to cut down the forest; they will burn our cabins, and kill or banish us from the hunting grounds of our fathers."
While the three frighted women tried to make good their escape, the crash of falling trees resounded through the forest, followed by shouts of exultation from what seemed a score of rough throats. They were, indeed, those Canadian French that Black-bird had once told Nattie were settling at Sibley's corner, a small town six or eight miles
