He was inexpressibly lonely, as if forsaken of men.

Savage life still left him untouched.

It made no appeal to him anywhere, and he longed for Wareville, and his kind, which he was now sure he would never see again.

Behind him rose the usual hum of the village--the barking of dogs, the chatter of squaws, and the occasional grunt of a warrior.

In their way, these people were cheerful.