"Let him feel that the vengeance of the Wyandots is sudden and awful!"

These, with many similar cries, rent the night air, and though Donald understood no word of what was said, he knew from the savage expression of the faces crowding about him that he was to suffer some dreadful fate, and nerved himself to bear it.

If he must die, it should be as became one of his race and training. But, oh! it was hard! He was so young, so full of life and hope. Could he hold out to the bitter end? Yes, he must. He had chosen to be a soldier. He was a soldier. Other soldiers had met their death by savage torture and faced it bravely. What they had done, he must do. But was there no help for him, none at all? As he searched the scowling faces of those who thronged about him, reviling, taunting, and revelling in his despair, he saw no trace of mercy, no pity, no gleam of hope. He knew that there was no help.

With it all, there was one consolation. He could discover no sign of his beloved sister. She, at least, would be spared the sight of his torments. She might even by some miracle have escaped.

They dragged him roughly, and with maudlin shoutings, to a small tree that stood by itself, and bound him to it with so many lashings that only his head was free to move. Then they heaped dry wood about him, piling it up until it was above his waist.

He knew now what he was to be called upon to endure. No words were needed to tell him that he was to be burned alive, and he prayed that they would pile the wood higher, that death might come the more quickly. But some among his tormentors thought it was already too high, and in their desire to prolong his sufferings they tore away a portion of the pile. Others insisted that it was not enough, and attempted to build it higher; and so they wrangled among themselves, until one, to settle the dispute, ran for a blazing brand and thrust it among the faggots that still remained.

By this time, news of what was taking place had spread abroad, and many from other scenes of revelry came running to participate in this new diversion. As a bright blaze leaped through the crackling wood and revealed distinctly the pallid face of the victim, there was first a yell of delight and then a great hush of expectancy, while all watched eagerly to see how he would bear the first touch of flame.

At this moment, there came a commotion in the crowd. A single figure, with face hideously painted in narrow stripes, broke from it, sprang forward, and dashing aside the blazing wood, shouted a few words in a tongue that was strange to most of them, though some understood. These translated what was said to the others, and in a few seconds every warrior was repeating in awed tones to his neighbor:—

"He is of the Metai! He is of the Totem of the Bear! The mark is on his arm! If he dies at our hands, then shall we feel the wrath of the magic circle!"

In a moment Donald's hunting-shirt was stripped from him, his left arm was bared, and at sight of the indelible signet thus exposed a great fear fell upon the savages. At once those who had been most eager for the death of the prisoner, became foremost in friendly offices that they hoped might banish their offence from his mind, and Donald breathed a prayer of thankfulness for his wonderful deliverance.



CHAPTER XX

BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT AT FORT DETROIT

The month elapsed since Donald left Detroit had been to the imprisoned garrison of that important post a period of gloom and incessant anxiety. Although, after the first outbreak, no general attack had been made on the place, the rigor of its siege had not for a moment been relaxed. It was seldom that an Indian was to be seen; but if a soldier exposed himself above the walls or at a loop-hole, the venomous hiss of a bullet instantly warned him of his peril, and of the tireless vigilance of the unseen foe. Provisions became so scarce that every ounce of food was carefully collected in one place, kept under guard, and sparingly doled out each morning. The faces of men and women grew wan and pinched with hunger, while the children clamored incessantly for food. If it had not been for the brave aid of a French farmer, dwelling across the river, who occasionally, on dark nights, smuggled scanty supplies to the beleaguered garrison, they would have been forced by starvation to a surrender.

In all this time no man slept, save in his clothes, and with a gun by his side. Night alarms were frequent, and only incessant watchfulness averted the destruction of the place by fire, from arrows tipped with blazing tow, that fell at all hours, with greater or less frequency, on the thatched roofs within the palisades.

With all this, there was no thought of yielding in the minds of Gladwyn or his men. The red cross of St. George still floated proudly above them, and each evening the sullen boom of the sunset gun echoed defiantly across the waters of the broad river.

While the Indians could not be induced to attempt a general assault upon the slight defences, in spite of its prospects of almost certain success, Pontiac so skilfully disposed his forces that not only was the fort under constant watch, but no one could approach it in any direction without discovery. They, too, collected all the provisions within their reach, purchasing quantities from the Canadians, and gathering them in the commodious house that still held Major Hester a prisoner-guest. Eagerly as the besieged watched for reinforcements and supplies, the Indians were no less keenly on the lookout for the same things.

Knowing that Cuyler's expedition must have started from Fort Niagara, Major Gladwyn despatched the schooner that bore his name down the lake, to intercept, warn, and hasten it. The Gladwyn narrowly escaped capture by a great fleet of canoes, as she lay becalmed at the mouth of the river, and was only saved by the springing up of a timely breeze. She failed to discover the object of her search, and finally reached the Niagara without having delivered her warning.

It was now time for her return, while Cuyler should have arrived long since; and day after day were the eyes of the weary garrison directed down the shining river, in efforts to detect the first glint of sails or flash of oars.

While matters stood thus, there came, late one afternoon, a loud cry, announcing joyful tidings, from the sentinel on one of the river bastions. His shout was taken up and repeated by all who happened to be on the water front, and in a minute the whole place was astir. The inhabitants poured into the narrow streets and hastened to the river's edge, their haggard faces lighted with a new hope and their eager voices exchanging the welcome news. The long-expected reinforcements had come at last. The boats were in sight. They had escaped the perils of their journey and were safely arrived. Now the danger was over, and all would again be well with Detroit.

As the motley throng of soldiers, in soiled uniforms, traders, voyageurs, pale-faced women, and wondering children, streamed to the narrow beach beyond the water gate, all could see the approaching boats as, in long-extended line and with flashing oars, one after another rounded the last wooded point and advanced slowly up the river.

From the stern of the foremost boat flew the red flag of England. As it drew near, cheer after cheer broke from the excited garrison, while from the rampart above them a loud-voiced cannon boomed forth it assurance that the fort still held out.

Alas, for the high hopes of the stout defenders! Their joy was quickly quenched; for when the long column of eighteen boats was in full view, and the rejoicing was at its height, dark, naked figures suddenly leaped up, with brandished weapons and exulting yells, in every boat. The fierce war-whoop came quavering over the water, and in a moment the dreadful truth was known. The entire convoy had been captured, and was in the enemy's hands.

As the mournful procession of boats moved past, though well over toward the opposite bank of the river, the disheartened garrison saw that each was rowed by two or more white captives, who were guarded and forced to their labor by armed savages. As the heavy-hearted spectators were about to turn away from this distressing sight, a thrilling incident absorbed their attention, and held them spellbound.

The last boat contained four white men and but three Indians. One of the former was Donald Hester, and he it was who steered. Although he had been well treated by his captors, after the mystic marking on his arm to which the Zebra attracted their attention had saved him from an awful death, he was still held a close prisoner, and was still uncertain as to the fate reserved for him. This, however, concerned him little. Nothing could be worse than the mental suffering he had already undergone, and his present anxiety was only for his sister Edith. What had become of her? Where was she, and by what perils was she surrounded? He became frantic as he reflected upon her helplessness and the restraints that prevented him from flying to her assistance. He had learned from his fellow-captives that nothing had been seen of her nor of her companion after the attack on Cuyler's camp, and also that two boats, containing many fugitives, had effected an escape. She must then be in one of those, and if she were, what might she not be suffering, without food or shelter, and liable at any moment to fall into the hands of some roving band of savages? For her sake, he must regain his freedom. Yes, he must, and he would. Why not strike for it at that very moment? Would he ever have a better chance?

As the last boat came abreast of the schooner Beaver, surging at her cables not more than a quarter of a mile away, Donald called out in English to the rowers in his boat that each should seize one of the Indian guards and throw him overboard, while he would stand ready to aid any one, or all of them, in the undertaking.

The soldier nearest him replied that he feared he had not the requisite strength.

"Very well," said Donald; "pretend exhaustion and change places with me."

As this order was obeyed and the young ensign stepped forward, as though to take his comrade's place, he suddenly seized hold of an unsuspecting Indian, lifted him bodily, and flung him into the river. At the same moment the savage clutched his assailant's clothing, and as he cleared the boat dragged Donald after him over its side. The two remaining Indians, seized with a panic, leaped overboard and struck out for shore, while the three soldiers, bending to their oars, directed their craft with desperate energy toward the schooner, followed by a storm of bullets and a dozen canoes.

In the meantime, Donald and his antagonist, swept away by the current, were engaged in a frightful struggle for life and death, now rising gasping to the surface, then sinking to unknown depths, but always grappling, and clutching at each other's throat.

At length, when it seemed to the white lad that he had spent an eternity in the cruel green depths, when his ears were bursting and his eyes starting from their sockets, he found himself once more at the surface, breathing in great gulps of the blessed air, and alone. For a moment he could not believe it, but gazed wildly about him, expecting each instant to feel the awful clutch that should again drag him under. He was nearly exhausted, and so weak that had not a floating oar come within his reach he must quickly have sunk, to rise no more.

Clinging feebly to that Heaven-sent bit of wood, he kept his face above the water while his spent strength was gradually restored.

At the boom of a cannon, he lifted his head a little higher, and looked back. A cloud of blue smoke was drifting away from the now distant schooner, a boat was alongside, and a fleet of canoes was scurrying out of range. His recent companions had then escaped, and pursuit of them had so attracted the attention of the Indians that none had given him a thought. They doubtless never questioned but what that death grapple in the water had resulted fatally to both contestants. So much the better for him. No search would be made, and he might escape, after all. And dear Edith! At length he was free to go in search of her. With this thought the lad took a new hold on life, grasped his friendly oar more firmly, and tried to plan some course of action.

Making no motion that might attract hostile attention, he drifted passively, until the sun had set in a flood of glory, and the stars peeped timidly down at him from their limitless heights. By this time he was some miles below the fort, and near the eastern bank of the river. Though he had seen many canoes pass up stream, at a distance so great that he was not noticed, there was now neither sign nor sound of human presence, and very gently the young soldier began to swim toward land. How blessed it was to touch bottom again, then to drag himself cautiously and wearily into a clump of tall sedges, and lie once more on the substantial bosom of mother earth. For an hour or more he slept, and then, greatly refreshed, he awoke to renewed activity.



CHAPTER XXI

IN SEARCH OF A LOST SISTER

Donald had no difficulty in finding the broad trail that connected all the widely scattered Indian villages on the east bank of the river, and when he reached it he instinctively turned to the south. The main body of the enemy lay to the northward, and to proceed in that direction would be the height of folly. There was still one small camp below him, as Donald knew from having seen it that morning when on his way up the river, and to this he determined to go. He needed food, clothing, arms, and a canoe. All of these might be obtained in an Indian camp, as well as elsewhere, if only one dared go in search of them and possessed the skill necessary to secure them. Much also would depend on chance; but, after his recent experiences, the young soldier felt assured that he had been born under a propitious star. At any rate, he was ready to do and dare anything in furtherance of his present plan, and so he set forth at a brisk pace in search of some source of supplies.

He had covered several miles with every sense keenly alert, but without detecting an indication of human presence, when he suddenly smelled an Indian encampment. He could neither see nor hear anything of it, but no one having once recognized the pungent odor, combined of smoke, skins, furs, freshly peeled bark, dried grasses, and decayed animal matter, that lingers about the rude dwellings of all savage races, could ever mistake it for anything else. A single faint whiff of this, borne to Donald, on a puff of the night wind, gave him the very knowledge he wanted, and he at once began to move with the same caution that he had observed on the previous evening while creeping up to the fire-lighted circles of the victorious Wyandots.

It was perilous business, this venturing into a camp of hostile Indians through the darkness, but Donald reflected that it would be even worse by daylight. He also argued, that while success in his proposed thieving would mean everything to him, he could not be worse off than he was a few hours since, even if he failed and was captured. So he crept forward with the noiseless motions of a serpent, until the conical lodges were plainly in view by the dim light of smoldering camp-fires.

There was one feature of this camp that greatly puzzled our young woodsman, and that was its silence. Surely the night was too young for all the inmates of those lodges to have retired, and yet there was no sound of voices. Not even the wail of a child was to be heard nor the barking of a dog. It was unaccountable, and gave Donald a creepy feeling that he tried in vain to shake off. He moved with an even greater caution than if he had been guided by the usual sounds of such a place and spent a full hour in examining the camp from all points before daring to enter it.

At length he detected a faint muttering in one of the lodges and a reply to it; but both voices were those of querulous age. A moment later the tottering figure of an old man emerged from the lodge, and crouching beside a dying fire threw on a few sticks with shaking hands and drew his blanket more closely about his shrunken form.

In an instant a full meaning of the situation flashed into Donald's mind. The camp was deserted of all except the infirm and very aged. All the others—men, women, children, and even the very dogs—had gone to participate in the festivities of the up-river camps to which so many white prisoners had that day been taken. He shuddered to contemplate the nature of these festivities,—the tortures, the anguish, and the fearful tragedies that would furnish their entertainment; but he no longer hesitated to enter this deserted camp and appropriate such of its properties as suited his fancy.

From the very fire beside which the old man crouched and shivered, he took a blazing brand and using it to light his way entered the lodge from which the former had emerged. It seemed empty of everything save that in one corner, on a heap of dried grasses, there lay an old wrinkled hag, who stared at him with keen beady eyes, and then set up a shrill screaming that caused him to beat a hasty retreat.

He fared better in other lodges, some of which were empty of inmates, and some occupied by persons too aged or ill to harm him. These either cowered trembling before him, or spit at and reviled him with distorted features and gestures of impotent rage. It was an unpleasant task, this taking advantage of helplessness to walk off with other people's property; but under the circumstances it seemed to Donald right, and he was soon clad in the complete buckskin costume of a warrior, besides having accumulated a comfortable store of provisions. He was grievously disappointed at not discovering a rifle, nor indeed a firearm of any kind, and being obliged to put up with a hunting-knife as his sole weapon. Still, on the whole, he had so little cause for complaint that as he left the camp and made his way to the landing where he hoped to find a canoe he congratulated himself upon his good fortune.

It seemed to fail him, however, at the river-bank; for, search as he might, he could not find a canoe nor a craft of any kind. Now, he was indeed in a quandary. It would be worse than useless to return to the Indian camp, that might at any moment be repeopled. He dared not go up the river, for that way lay the hosts of Pontiac; nor could he cross it and make his way to the fort. There was obviously but one course to pursue, which was to keep on down stream until he had put a safe distance between himself and the Indian camp, and then to wait for daylight by which to resume his search for a canoe.

This he did, first wading for a long distance in the shallow water close to shore to conceal his trail, and then plodding sturdily ahead through the bewildering darkness of the forest for hours, until finally, overcome by exhaustion, he sank down at the foot of a great tree and almost instantly fell asleep.

When Donald next awoke, stiff and aching in every joint, the rising sun warned him that he must lose no time in placing a greater distance between himself and those who would soon be on his trail, if, indeed, the pursuit were not already begun. So he set off at a brisk pace, still keeping the general southerly direction on which he had determined until he should reach the lake. He had not walked more than two hours, and was staying his stomach with a handful of parched corn brought from the Indian camp, when, all at once, he found himself amid the remains of recent camp-fires on ground that was much trampled. It was the very scene of his capture by the Wyandots and of his narrow escape from death. Yes, there was the identical tree to which he had been bound. Turning, with a shudder, he hastened from the place of such horrid memories, and instinctively retraced his course of two nights before across the narrow neck of land that had proved fatal to so many of his countrymen, and on which the dear sister whom he now sought had last been seen.

Reaching the eastern side of the point, and skirting the shore for a short distance, he came upon another place of camping, which he instantly recognized as the spot where he had left Paymaster Bullen.

"Poor old Bullen!" he reflected half aloud. "I wonder what he thought of my deserting him the way I did; and I also wonder what became of him. I suppose he must be dead long before this, and 'Tummas,' too, poor fellow; for I didn't see anything of them among the prisoners yesterday. I never trusted those Senecas; but Wilkins was so cocksure of them that he wouldn't listen to a word against them. Wonder what he'll say now. I wouldn't be here at this moment, though, if it hadn't been for that fellow, 'Zebra,' as Bullen called him. Queer how things turn out in this funny old world! I only wish I knew just what that tattooing on my arm means, and what the Metai is, anyway. If I did, I might turn the knowledge to advantage. Hello! Something has been carried into those bushes,—the paymaster's tub for a guinea."

During his soliloquy the young woodsman's trained eye rested on a broken twig and a bit of bruised bark at the edge of a near-by thicket. Stepping to the place and parting the bushes, he uttered a cry of joy. There, bottom-side up, and imperfectly concealed, as though in great haste, lay the canoe in which he had so recently journeyed. Beneath it he found a rifle that had belonged to the paymaster, as well as most of his luggage, which included a good supply of ammunition, provisions, and cooking-utensils. In fact, nearly everything that the canoe had contained was there excepting its passengers and the redoubtable tub.

"The disappearance of that tub is the strangest thing of all," muttered Donald, as, exulting in this sudden wealth, he hastened to build a fire and make the cup of coffee for which he was longing. "What reason could the beggars have had for lugging it off? and why didn't I see something of it in the boats yesterday? Too bad about Bullen, though, for he was a good fellow in spite of his crotchets."

The daring plan that forced itself in Donald's mind the minute he saw that canoe was to cross Lake Erie in it to Sandusky. There he would certainly learn what had become of Cuyler and those who escaped with him. Perhaps he would even find Edith there.

He was off the moment he had finished the hearty breakfast that restored his strength, his confidence in himself and his belief that everything was about to turn out for the best, after all. Nor did his good fortune desert him, for the broad surface of the great lake was as peaceful as a mill-pond all that day; the light breeze that ruffled it was so directly in his favor that he was enabled to aid his paddle with a sail, and at sunset he was nearing the southern coast. Camping where he landed, he cooked, ate, and slept, starting again at break of day for Sandusky, full of hope and anticipations of a warm welcome in that stout little post.

The sun was barely an hour high when he reached his destination, only to find a mass of charred and desolate ruins, that told with a mute eloquence of the fate that had overtaken Sandusky.



CHAPTER XXII

AMID THE RUINS OF FORT SANDUSKY

To discover only ruin, desolation, and death, instead of the cheery greetings of friends and the longed-for intelligence of Edith's safety that he had so confidently expected to gain at Sandusky, was so bitter a disappointment as to be bewildering, and it was some time ere Donald could do aught save wander like one who is dazed, among the melancholy ruins. He recalled his pleasant reception by Ensign Paully, the commanding officer, only a month before, when he had stopped there on his way down the lake, the cheerful evening he had spent in the mess-room, and the hopeful conversation concerning the settlement soon to be made near the sturdy little post. Now all that remained were great heaps of ashes and half-burned logs, gaunt chimneys, and a score of bodies, stripped, mutilated, and decomposed beyond recognition. The presence of these, and the fact that all of them were scalped, showed the destruction of the post to be the work of savages and not the voluntary act of its garrison; otherwise Donald might have hoped that the place had been abandoned and a retreat made to some stronger position.

Not only was the story of the tragedy plainly to be read in the mute evidences abounding on all sides, but the young woodsman was able to determine from the drift of ashes, the indentations of raindrops, and other distinct signs, just how many days had elapsed since the king's flag last waved above Sandusky. He found traces showing that Cuyler with his fugitives had been there since the destruction of the place, and from his own feelings he could readily imagine what theirs must have been.

These things he learned as easily as from a printed page; but with all his art he could gain no inkling of the information he most desired. Were his sister and Madam Rothsay among those who had escaped with Cuyler? In vain did he scan the prints of moccasined and booted feet, that abounded among the ruins. None was dainty enough to be that of a lady.

While Donald was bending over some footprints beside a small field-piece that, dismounted and rusted, lay half buried in ashes, a sudden whir-r-r caused him to spring back as though he had received an electric shock. Only his quickness saved him from the living death held in the fangs of a rattlesnake that had evidently just crawled from the black muzzle of the gun. The snake instantly re-coiled to repeat its venomous stroke, and though Donald could easily have killed it as he had scores of its kind, the presence of this hideous and sole representative of life in that place of the dead so filled him with horror that he turned and fled to his canoe. Nor did he pause in his flight until he had covered many miles of water, and was compelled to do so by the faintness of hunger.

He had instinctively shaped his course to the eastward, and now reason decided him to continue it in that direction. It was the only one that Cuyler could have taken, and in searching for his sister the young ensign had no other clue to follow save that afforded by the fugitives.

Coasting the shore until he discovered the mouth of a small stream, Donald forced his canoe up this until it was effectually concealed from the lake. Then he made a fire of dry wood that would give forth little smoke, and cooked the noontide meal, that was for that day his breakfast as well. Before it was finished he had decided to remain in his present place of concealment until nightfall, in order to have the aid of darkness in avoiding such Indians as might be travelling up or down the coast. Having satisfied his hunger, and extinguished his modest fire, he stationed himself at the foot of a great oak on the shore, where he commanded a good view of the lake and was at the same time well hidden from it. Here he reflected upon all that had happened, wondered if Cuyler had reached Presque Isle, if so, whether Edith and Christie had met, and tried to imagine the meeting, until at length he fell asleep and dreamed that Presque Isle was destroyed and that he was searching for traces of Edith in its ashes.

When he awoke, the sound of voices was in his ears, and for a moment it seemed as though his waking was but a continuation of his dream. Within a stone's-throw of where he lay barely hidden by a slight screen of leaves, a fleet of canoes was moving to the eastward, the very direction he must take if he adhered to his original plan. He counted ten, twenty, thirty, and believed that some had already passed when he awoke. They were filled with warriors, all armed and decked with war-paint of vermilion and black. There were a few squaws; but no children, no dogs, and but slight camp equipage. It was evidently a war-party, and a strong one.

Donald lay motionless, hardly daring to breathe, and watched them out of sight. Were they in pursuit of Cuyler and his handful of fugitives? were they on their way to attack Christie in his little fort? or were they in search of him to avenge his looting of the Wyandot lodges? This last thought was dismissed as quickly as formed; for, of course, no party of that size would be in pursuit of an individual, no matter how important he was or what he had done. No; they must be bound for Presque Isle, with the hope of picking up Cuyler on the way.

As the youth was in the very act of rising to go to the beach for a parting glimpse of the fleet, a movement on the water warned him to sink back just in time to escape the keen glances of the occupants of a single canoe, that seemed to have been left behind and to be in haste to overtake the main body. Besides the four Indians who paddled it, this canoe held a fifth, seated luxuriously in an object so unusual and startling that Donald almost uttered an exclamation at sight of it. "It could not be!" Donald rubbed his eyes and looked again. Yes, it was. There was no mistaking its shape or color.

"Bullen's tub, as I'm a sinner!" muttered the young man, under his breath. "If that doesn't beat everything! Where did they get it? What are they going to do with it? and what has become of its owner? Poor old chap! He can't possibly be alive, for he would have died rather than be parted from it. Now, though, I had better keep quiet for awhile and see what is coming next."

Although it lacked two hours of sunset, and Donald maintained his lonely watch until then, nothing more came in sight. He prepared another meal to strengthen him for a night of toil, and as soon as darkness had set in, made a start. Keeping so far out on the lake that the shore was but a dim line, he urged the canoe forward with his utmost strength through the solemn stillness of the long hours. He did not venture near shore until the eastern sky was paling with approaching dawn. Then, though he sought anxiously for some friendly stream in which to conceal his canoe, he failed to find one before the growing light warned him that it was no longer safe to remain on the water. He was thus forced to land on the open beach, and with great labor drag his craft up a steep bank to a hiding-place in the forest beyond. After that, with infinite pain, and moving backward as his work progressed, he carefully obliterated all traces of his landing by sweeping them with a bunch of twigs.

While certain that he must have passed the Indian fleet during the night, and that it would in turn pass him before the day was ended, he was compelled by utter weariness to sleep, which he did in a dense thicket at some distance from where he had hidden the canoe. When he awoke, it was so late in the day that he feared the savages had gone by, but after a while he again heard their voices, and peering from his covert again saw the entire fleet sweep past. This time he counted its occupants as well as he could, and discovered that the war-party numbered something over two hundred members. On this occasion the canoe containing the paymaster's tub was in the foremost rank, and there were no stragglers.

It was a great relief to the anxious watcher to catch this glimpse of the enemy and thus gain an approximate knowledge of their whereabouts, and after they had disappeared he felt at liberty to attend to his own wants by cooking a supply of provisions for future use.

For two more nights and days was this strange and perilous journey continued, until at daylight of the third day Donald felt that he must be within a few miles of Presque Isle. The most critical moment of his undertaking had now arrived. In spite of the rising sun he must push on, for he was determined to reach the fort if possible before the Indians, and warn Christie of their coming. At the same time he realized that, as they had been able to travel much faster than he in his big canoe, he could not be much if any past their camp of the night just ended. Nor did he dare keep far out in the lake, for fear lest they cut him off from the shore and so hold him at their mercy.

Wearied with his night's work, compelled to keep on, not daring to land, and expecting each moment to hear the exulting yell or crack of a rifle that should announce his discovery, Donald was thus obliged to paddle doggedly forward within a hundred yards of the shore. His suspense was well-nigh unbearable. Every nerve was strung to its utmost tension. In each new indentation of the coast he expected to see the waiting fleet of canoes, and with each fearful backward glance he wondered at not finding them in pursuit.

At length, as he rounded a point, he thought he saw far down the lake, against the blue of the sky and above the sombre forest, a flutter of red. At the same moment be glanced behind him to see if he were still free from pursuit. Alas! He was not. Two canoes, each urged by half a dozen gleaming paddles, were following as swiftly and silently as sharks that had scented blood, and they were not a quarter of a mile away. As their occupants noted that they were discovered they uttered yells of exultation that chilled the poor lad's blood in his veins and caused him to feel faint with a despairing terror.



CHAPTER XXIII

DISCOVERED AND PURSUED BY SAVAGES

It was only for a moment that Donald was overcome by the chill despair that, in presence of an imminent and overwhelming danger, often paralyzes the most resolute. Then it passed as suddenly as it had come. The hot blood surged through his veins, his heart was filled with a fierce joy at the prospect of contest, and, under the vigorous impulse of his stout young arms, the canoe bounded forward as though it were animate and shared his feelings. Perhaps it was all owing to the fact that, having rounded the point, the pursuing savages were momentarily lost to view, and their yells no longer rang in his ears. At any rate, the sudden terror was conquered, as it always is by brave men, though with cowards it stays to the end.

Donald headed straight for the beach, gained it, hastily dragged his canoe behind some bushes, and, seizing only his rifle, plunged into the forest. He reflected that it must be some minutes before his pursuers could strike his trail; and, with that advantage of time, he surely ought to reach the fort in advance of them. So, while he ran at a great speed, he still saved his strength, and by no means did his best. This he reserved for a later emergency.

He had hardly got under way when the spiteful crack of a rifle rang out from the forest directly in front of him. Almost at the same instant he threw up his arms, staggered forward, and fell. As he did so, a painted savage leaped from behind a tree and raised a hand to his mouth to produce the quavering of a triumphant war-whoop. With its first shrill note a second rifle uttered its deadly summons; the exulting Indian leaped high, and fell, pierced by Donald's bullet. Then the latter arose, hastily reloaded, and, with only a contemptuous glance at the dead foe who had been so easily beguiled, sped on his way. There might be other Indians in his path; but if they were all as simple as that fellow, he should not mind them.

The young woodsman had not been harmed nor even grazed by his adversary's bullet, and unexpected as it was, he had been quick-witted enough to put into practice one of Truman Flagg's long-ago lessons. Often, when he was a child, playing in the edge of the woods near Tawtry House, had he flung up his little arms and dropped in that very manner, at the sound of an unexpected shot, fired into the air, from the old scout's rifle. Thus, though he had never before been obliged to resort to it for self-preservation, the action now came to him as naturally as breathing.

Now, as he sped forward, his pace was accelerated by a series of yells that announced the landing, and discovery of his trail by the pursuers whom he had first seen. Then, though an unbroken silence reigned in the pleasant forest glades, he knew that swift runners were on his track and that the time had come for his utmost exertions.

Mile after mile he ran until he had covered a goodly number before his strength began to fail. At length he was panting so that each hissing breath was a stab, and his eyesight grew dim. He plunged, almost headlong, down the precipitous side of a ravine and at its bottom, fell, face downward, into the cool waters of a rippling brook. How deliciously refreshing were the two or three great gulps that he swallowed. How the life-giving fluid thrilled his whole frame! If he could only lie there as long as he chose and drink his fill! But he could not; two magic words rang like bells in his ears, "Edith" and "Christie." For his own life alone he would hardly have prolonged this terrible race with death; but for theirs he must run while he had strength to stand. So, almost as he fell, he was again on his feet and scrambling up the steep opposite side of the ravine.

As he gained its crest, a rattling sound caused him to look back—the foremost of his pursuers was leaping down the farther side. How fresh and powerful he looked—within two minutes he would overtake him. Would he? Edith and Christie! The crack of a rifle, the hiss of a bullet, and the powerful Indian lay quietly beside the little stream as though resting after his long run. Donald had no time for reloading, and flinging away his gun, he again sprang forward.

There was a ringing in his ears; but through it he heard the howls of rage that announced the discovery of the silent one lying by the little stream, and knew that a desire for vengeance would add swiftness to the feet of his pursuers. His own seemed weighted with lead, and he felt that he was crawling; but though he could not realize it he was still running splendidly, and with almost undiminished speed.

As he leaped, crashing through the underbrush, he was mistaken for a deer, and only the quick eye of a hunter who was already raising his rifle for a shot saved him from death at the hands of those whom he would warn of their peril.

"Halt! who comes?" rang out in crisp tones from him who still presented his rifle hesitatingly, as he detected the Indian costume of the advancing runner.

"Friend! The enemy! Oh, Christie!" gasped the fugitive as he staggered into the arms of the young commandant at Fort Presque Isle.

"By Heavens! It is Donald Hester," he cried in terror, "and I came near shooting him for a deer! Thank God! Thank God that my hand was stayed! Why, lad, what is it? You are near dead with running; what danger threatens?"

"Fly, Christie, fly," panted Donald. "The savages are in hot pursuit."

"And leave you, lad? Not while I have breath in my body and a rifle in my hand. Rest a minute and recover your breath while we welcome those who follow you so hotly. Martin, get behind yon tree while I hold this one. Take you the first redskin who appears, and I will deal with the second. That will at least serve to check them while we can reload. Steady! here they come."

It was fortunate indeed for Donald that his friend, seized with a longing for fresh venison, had chosen that morning for a hunt, and, taking a man with him, had entered the forest. They were not yet a half-mile from the fort when they met the exhausted fugitive as described. Now their rifles blazed at other game than deer, and, as Christie had predicted, the pursuit was checked; for only two had followed thus far, though within a mile scores of others were ranging the forest.

The two men instantly reloaded and, without exposing themselves beyond the sheltering tree trunks, waited a full minute without detecting further movement or sound. Then Donald begged them to retreat while there was yet time, and the three set forth for the fort.

As they ran, each of the others passed an arm through one of Donald's, and the woods being open, they were able thus to make good speed. Even as they went, Donald could not repress the one eager inquiry that, in spite of all distractions, was ever uppermost in his thoughts.



"Edith. Is she safe, Christie?"

"My poor fellow, I know nothing concerning her. I hoped you had news."

"Has Cuyler reached the tort?"

"Yes; and left two days since for Niagara."

"And Edith was not with him?"

"No."

"He knew nothing of her fate?"

"Nothing."

Donald said no more; but his form as supported by the two men became noticeably heavier, as though it had been suddenly deprived of some upbearing and stimulating force.

As the three dashed into the little post, which was only garrisoned by a score of troops, they were none too soon; for, almost at the same moment, a rattling volley and fierce yelling gave notice that the siege of Presque Isle was begun. But the garrison was not taken by surprise, for the shots from the forest had been heard, and half a dozen soldiers had run out to protect the retreat of the fugitives.

Christie's first attention was given to the friend whose coming had not only placed the garrison on guard, but had saved him from being cut off, as he certainly would have been had not his hunting been interrupted. So he led Donald to his own quarters, showed him where to find food and drink, and then left him to recover his strength.

The so-called fort of Presque Isle was but a collection of a dozen low wooden buildings ranged about a parade ground, in which was the single well of the place. It was unprotected by palisades or walls of any kind; but was provided with a citadel in shape of a stout blockhouse that stood at one angle of the fort and was separated by a few yards of open space from the quarters of the commanding officer.

The location of the post was unfortunate, from a military point of view, in that it occupied a small, open flat, commanded on one side by the beach ridge of the lake, and on another by the equally high bank of a stream that entered the lake at a right angle.

The first fire of the enemy, who had fully expected to surprise the place and effect its capture as a mere incident in their pursuit of Cuyler, was delivered from the beach ridge and was harmless. A few minutes later, however, there came a scathing cross-fire from the high creek-bank on the other side. By this, one man who was crossing the parade was killed and several were wounded. A little later tongues of flame appeared on the bark-covered roof of a building, and it was evident that no place of safety existed outside the blockhouse. To this, then, Christie ordered the immediate retreat of his entire force.

Already were the rifles of several picked marksmen blazing from the upper story of this stronghold, and the rest of the garrison, by running close along the sheltering walls of the other buildings, gained in safety the protection of its stout logs.

"Sorry not to give you a little longer breathing spell, old man," said Ensign Christie to Donald, as he entered his own quarters for the last time; "but those chaps out there are so inconsiderate in their shooting that it has become necessary for us to move. So if you will just step over to the castle, we will try to entertain you there, and can at least promise you plenty of occupation."

"All right," replied Donald, "I'm ready, and nearly as fit as ever; but have you any hope of beating them off eventually, Christie? If not, I want to make a break for the woods as soon as it comes dark. I must get back up the lake, for I am not yet prepared to give up the search for my sister Edith."

"Nor shall you, my dear fellow, and I would join you in it with all my heart if it were not for my duty here," replied the other, earnestly. "At present, though, it would be more than folly to attempt an escape from this place, and our only hope is to hold out until Wilkins sends the reinforcements for which I have applied through Cuyler."

"Is there any chance of doing it?"

"There is every chance for us to do our best in trying."

A minute later the two young men had passed into the blockhouse, its heavy oaken door was slammed and barred behind them, and the defence of the little wilderness stronghold was begun.



CHAPTER XXIV

CHRISTIE'S BRAVE DEFENCE OF HIS POST

Twenty men, with scanty supplies of everything, shut up in a tiny castle of logs, and fighting against two hundred, who were well armed, well provisioned, and protected by natural earthworks, not over forty yards distant. Donald's heart grew heavy as he realized the situation; but with Christie's cheery voice in his ears he could do naught save follow so brave an example and set to work with a will. There was plenty to be done in that hot little enclosure, already filling with smoke, and only lighted by narrow loop-holes pierced in the thick walls. The fire of the enemy was chiefly directed at these, which rendered the task of watching from them most dangerous. Still, it must be done, for many of the Indians were brave enough to dash across the open with blazing firebrands in hand, and these must be stopped at all costs. Half a dozen were killed in this attempt before it was abandoned, and the efforts to set the blockhouse on fire were continued by another and most ingenious device.

This was the throw-stick, or fire-bow, which they soon began to work with serious effect from behind their breastworks, which they had strengthened by rolling logs to the top of the banks. The fire-bow was a stout bar of ash, hickory, or other pliant wood, one end of which was firmly set in the earth. In the other was hollowed a shallow cavity, and just beneath was attached a stout thong, by which the bow could be drawn back. A ball of tow, or other inflammable material, wound about a small stone to give it weight, was saturated with pitch. The upper end of the bow was drawn back, a fire ball placed in the cavity and lighted, the thong released, and the blazing missile projected with the force and accuracy of an arrow against the devoted building.

Again and again its walls caught fire, but each blaze was extinguished by the activity of the garrison as soon as discovered.

Fire-arrows, shot into the air, fell on the dry shingles of the roof, and hardly a minute passed that a tiny blaze did not spring from one part or another of it. The roof could be gained from the interior, through an opening protected on two sides by a barricade of plank, and here Donald was stationed, at his own request.

From this elevated position he soon discovered a new danger, and one that he had never before heard of in Indian warfare. He could see quantities of earth and stones being thrown out behind one of the breastworks, and became convinced that the enemy were excavating a subterranean passage, or mine, toward the blockhouse. So well did the young soldier realize the terrible menace of this new danger, against which no defence could be made, that he dared not announce it to the troops for fear of disheartening them. So, deserting his post for a moment, he hastened to report it in person to Christie.

Ere the latter had time to consider this peril, another equally grave and more imminent confronted him. The water barrels were nearly empty, and the roof was again on fire. Donald rushed back to his post, while Christie ordered two men to follow him to the lower story. He knew that without water all hope of resistance must quickly disappear. Certain death awaited him who should attempt to reach the well in the parade ground. There was no other.

"So," said Christie, with a calm cheerfulness, "we must needs dig one nearer at hand." With this, he and his two men set to work tearing up the floor of the lower story, and, seizing a spade, the commander himself began flinging out the earth beneath it.

Inspired by this example, his men worked with a will at this cheerless task, and in spite of darkness, heat, thirst, and the suffocating atmosphere, never was a well sunk more quickly. At the same time it was not half completed when so serious a fire broke out on the roof that the entire remaining stock of water was exhausted in extinguishing it.

An hour later the roof was again in a blaze; but Donald caused himself to be lowered by a rope, and amid a shower of bullets tore away the flaming shingles with his bare hands. Thus was the danger once more averted.

By this time the day was well spent. Several of the garrison had been killed, and a number were wounded. These last called piteously for water, and gazed with longing eyes at the limitless expanse of the lake, so near at hand and yet so hopelessly remote. By sunset the well-diggers were in moist earth, before nine o'clock the wounded were eagerly quaffing a muddy liquid that gave them new life, and by midnight two feet of water stood in the well.

During the night, although the enemy's fire was slackened, it never entirely ceased. Balls of blazing pitch were discharged at frequent intervals, and no moment of rest was allowed the weary garrison. At daybreak, exulting cries from the rear, and a ruddy glow, announced some new cause for anxiety. In a few minutes the worst was known. The underground approach had been advanced as far as Christie's quarters, which were immediately set on fire. Only a narrow space separated this building from the blockhouse, and with the fierce blaze of its pine logs the stifling heat in the latter became almost unsupportable. It seemed to the men that the time to yield had come; but their commander was not yet ready to acknowledge the situation as hopeless. Even when the scorched and smoking walls of their prison house burst into flame, he only bade them work the harder, and inspired them by his own heroism. Thanks to the new well, they succeeded in holding the flames in check until the blazing building that had threatened them finally sank into a mass of glowing embers, and their little fortress still stood intact.

With the reaction following this supreme effort, many of the men again gave way to despair. All were sickened by the great heat, the stifling smoke, and the exhaustion of twenty-four hours of continuous fighting. Donald held to his strength better than any, because from his perilous position on the roof he could at least breathe pure air; while Christie, who fought beside his men, was so upheld by his indomitable will that he would not acknowledge fatigue.

So the defence was maintained, until the second day of incessant toil, fighting, and hoping against hope for relief, dragged out its weary length, and darkness once more brooded over Presque Isle. From behind the breastworks rifles flashed incessantly until midnight, when the firing ceased, and from out of the darkness a voice hailed the fort in English.

"What is wanted?" demanded Christie.

"You are called upon to surrender," answered the voice, "since further resistance is useless."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then you will shortly be blown into eternity. Your fort is undermined, and a great store of powder is already in position to blow it up. If you surrender, your lives shall be spared."

"Ask them to wait until morning for your answer," suggested Donald, in a low tone. "I have a particular reason for the request."

Christie agreed to this, and the proposition was submitted.

There was a long pause, and an evident discussion, before the voice answered:—

"The beggars will only grant that request on one condition."

"Name it."

"It is that neither you nor those under your command shall make any attempt to escape during the time of truce."

"Am I under your command, Christie?" asked Donald.

"Certainly not," was the answer.

"All right. I only wanted to be sure that the condition wouldn't bind me."

"Well," cried the voice, impatiently, "do you agree?"

"I agree," replied Christie, "and by sunrise will have ready my final answer."

In the profound and grateful quiet that followed the cessation of firing, most of the exhausted garrison flung themselves down where they stood, and were instantly buried in slumber. Donald and Christie sought food, and while they ate discussed the situation.

"You have splendidly defended your post, Christie, but you have come to the end of your resources," said the former. "You could not hold out for another day, even if what that fellow said about the mine should prove false."

"No, I suppose not," replied the young commander, sadly. "My poor lads are nearly used up."

"Then you will surrender?"

"I suppose so."

"In that case, they will probably spare your lives, at least until they get you to the Indian villages near Detroit."

"They may do so."

"But you will be prisoners, and that is what I cannot afford to become. I must retain my freedom, if it lies within my power to do so, until I have found Edith, or discovered her fate."

"What do you propose to do?" inquired Christie, starting from his despondent attitude.

"I mean to leave this place within an hour and take to the woods."

"But—"

"There are no buts, my dear fellow. I am determined to make the attempt. You have acknowledged that I am not under your command, and so am not held by the condition just imposed. I hate to leave you, and would a thousand times rather stand by you and share your fate, whatever it may be; but my duty seems to lie so plainly in another direction that I must go."

"You are right, Hester," assented Christie, sadly, "and with all my heart do I wish I were free to share your mission. There is no peril, no hardship, that I would not gladly face in the cause for which you are enlisted. I tremble, though, for your safety, and cannot believe that you will escape without detection from the savages who encircle us."

"I can try," answered Donald, "and the cause is certainly worthy of the effort."

So it was settled, and soon afterward the two young men, whose friendship had become like the love of brothers, stood by the partially opened door of the blockhouse. The night was of inky blackness, and the silence was profound. Only a dull glow still lighted faintly the smouldering ruins of the commandant's quarters. Donald held a rifle, and bore with him a stout knife, a small supply of ammunition, and a little store of food. No word accompanied the parting. There was but a long, firm hand clasp, and then one was gone as noiselessly as a fleeting shadow, while the other remained to meet his unknown fate.



CHAPTER XXV

DONALD FIRES THE MINE AND SAVES THE BLOCKHOUSE

Knowing the savage nature as well as he did, Donald believed that his well-loved friend, as well as every one of the gallant fellows under his command, would be put to death in case they surrendered; or, if they were spared for the time being, it would only be for torture in the Indian villages. He was determined, therefore, to make an effort to save them; but his half-formed plan was of such a perilous nature that he dared not confide it to Christie, for he knew that the latter would never consent to its being undertaken. Once outside the blockhouse, however, and lost to sight in the darkness, he was free to act as he pleased.

After going a few steps he paused to listen, but no sound save that of night-birds and the lapping of little waves on the lake shore came to his ears. The silence was profound, and assured him that even the savages, wearied with long fighting, were snatching a few hours of sleep. On either side of him lay the still smoking ruins of the post, for of all its buildings, the stronghold of logs alone remained standing.

From these charred heaps, fitful flames, fanned into life by the soft night breeze, sprang up every now and then, casting fantastic bits of light and shadow over the scene of desolation.

Reassured by the silence, the young soldier swiftly crossed the open space beyond which lay the forest, and skirted the latter to the lake shore. There he hid his rifle and his supplies in the hollow of a tree, so that he might have greater freedom of action. Then he worked his way cautiously toward the rude breastworks facing the blockhouse. A small fire of driftwood burned dimly behind these, and about it sat several blanketed figures. In no other direction was there a sign of wakefulness.

Donald was now crawling on hands and knees. Suddenly he encountered a figure lying prone in his path, and had touched it before aware of its proximity. Instantly he, too, lay flat on the ground, and, with heavy breathing, so feigned sleep that the aroused savage was deceived into believing the form beside him to be that of some restless comrade. So he turned over with a grunt, and again dozed into unconsciousness.

After a few minutes Donald ventured to move, and then to pursue his way with a greater caution than before. Now he passed other sleeping forms, and even stepped over one whom he could not otherwise avoid. Finally, after more than an hour of intense anxiety and stealthy movement, only advancing by inches, and with frequent motionless pauses, he discovered the place of which he was in search. It was the mouth of the mine that the Indians had spent two days and nights in excavating. As he had conjectured, it lay very near the little fire beside which sat the drowsy guard, and not until he was well within its profound shadow did he venture to draw a full breath.

The passage was very low, but of sufficient width to allow two persons to pass each other, and after penetrating it a short distance he found that it took a turn to the left. At this angle he was perplexed by coming into contact with fragments of charred wood. Wondering for what purpose these had been brought there, he still moved forward, determined to discover whether or not the statement concerning a store of powder beneath the blockhouse was true. All at once his outstretched hands came into contact with something that barred his further progress. It was hard, smooth, and round. There were other similar objects above, below, and on both sides of it. They were powder kegs, five in all, and of a size that should contain twenty pounds. One hundred pounds of powder! Enough to lift the little fortress from its foundations and scatter its timbers far and wide. The savages had made no empty boast, and, unless he could save his recent companions, their fate was surely sealed.

What could he do? Time was precious, for daylight could not be far off. Beyond this point he had formed no plan. He had hoped to find both the tunnel and its contents but an ingenious fiction to frighten Christie into a surrender. Now it was a startling and overwhelming truth. He could not remove the powder by the way he had come. In fact, he doubted if he could effect his own escape that way, so thickly were the sleeping savages dispersed about the entrance to the tunnel. In this predicament, and with the intensity of his thinking, great beads of perspiration started to his forehead, and he clenched his hands until they ached.

The mine was all ready for firing. He knew this by discovering that one of the powder kegs was open, and by finding the end of a rudely made fuse buried in its contents. Who had taught the Indians this diabolical trick of warfare? Never before had they been known to prepare a mine. They must have been instructed by some white man, and one possessed of military knowledge. All at once Donald recalled the voice that had demanded the surrender of the blockhouse. Certainly, no Indian ever spoke English like that. Had there not been a familiar ring to the tones? It seemed so now, though he had been too intent on other thoughts to notice it at the time. Still he was not sure, the impression was too slight.

All these things flashed through Donald's mind in a moment, while his hands were feeling out the exact condition of the mine. How long was that fuse? He traced it backward as its evil length stretched along the bottom of the tunnel. It led to the angle, and there he again encountered the fragments of burned wood. At one side the tunnel widened, and here its wall was entirely composed of this material. Where could it have come from? It was freshly charred. The Indians would never have brought it there and piled it in that confusion. It must have fallen from above! There must be an opening! If there only was, he would know just what to do. There would be no difficulty then about forming a plan.

With eager haste Donald began pulling away the burned ends of timbers and logs. He had hardly begun before the whole mass gave way, and slid down on him. Fortunately, there was not much of it, and, though he was nearly smothered by dust and ashes, he quickly scrambled from the debris, and listened with loudly beating heart. He realized that he had found an opening to the surface, and was wildly exultant over the discovery, but could hardly believe that the noise of the sliding material, which had sounded to him like an avalanche, should not have aroused the savages. So, for some minutes, he listened, and then, reassured by the continued silence, ventured to climb up to the open air. He had but a few feet to go, and once at the surface instantly recognized his surroundings. He was beside the ruins of Christie's quarters, and just beyond rose the black mass of the blockhouse, in which he had recently suffered so much.

But that glow in the east, against which it was outlined so distinctly! It could not be that the night was already gone and daylight near at hand. Yes, it was, though; and, realizing that his working time was now limited to minutes, Donald slid back into the tunnel, and began to carry the powder kegs, one at a time, toward its outer end, placing them as near the entrance as he dared venture. He was forced to work slowly in that confined space, as well as with the utmost caution; for, by the rapidly increasing light, he caught occasional glimpses of dusky forms passing and repassing the entrance, showing that the enemy was already astir. He expected each time that he returned from the further end of the mine to be confronted by some burly savage, and became so nervous at the prospect that the utmost exercise of his will power was required to enable him to complete his task. At length it was finished. All the kegs were removed to their new position and piled about the one whose open head admitted the fuse. The other end of this reached half way to the new place of exit.

Almost breathless with nervous excitement, he knelt beside the farther end of the fuse, and with trembling hands attempted to ignite it by a spark struck from flint and steel. Again and again the spark flew aside, but at length there came a slight flash and a spluttering flame.

Heavens! How fast that roughly made fuse burned! Almost like an open train of powder. Donald had hardly thought of his own danger; but a single glance at that hissing line of fire caused him to spring to his place of exit. He scrambled through it, and darted at full speed across the open toward the forest, heedless of everything save a desire to place as great a distance as possible between himself and the awful fire fiend about to leap forth.

As he reached the edge of the woods and turned to look, the explosion came. He saw a sheet of vivid flame, that dimmed the brightness of the rising sun, leaping in air. At the same instant, as though it had been a thunderbolt and hurled at him, he was struck senseless by a crashing blow on the head, delivered from behind.

The four or five crouching figures that had been grimly watching Donald's approach, and sprang up to receive him as he turned to look back, were for a moment petrified with fright at the suddenness and violence of the shock. Then, moved by a common impulse, and without a word being spoken, they lifted their unconscious captive, ran with him to the lake shore, bundled him into a canoe, and pushed off.

Upon the Indians behind the breastwork, where the full force of the explosion was felt, the effect was so disastrous that the panic-stricken survivors rushed madly for their canoes. Many of these were damaged, and some crushed beyond repair, by the rain of logs, stones, and other missiles hurled from the dense smoke-cloud that was slowly drifting to leeward in fleecy folds.

Although the blockhouse was violently shaken, it remained standing, and, after a moment of consternation, its garrison rushed out to hasten the flight of their terrified foes. A few ran to the breastwork on the lake shore, and gazed wonderingly at the smoking hole from which the torrent of flame had burst. The rest, headed by Christie, charged upon the Indians behind the creek hank, who, although preparing for flight, were not quite so bereft of their senses as those who had felt the full shock of the upheaval. Some of them even turned on the whites, who rushed so recklessly among them; so that for a minute a fierce hand-to-hand fight raged on the narrow strand, and even among the crowded canoes in the water. In the confusion of this melee Christie became separated from his men, and ere he realized the full peril of his position received several knife wounds in quick succession. Staggering under these, he fell, was instantly dragged into a canoe, and borne away.

It was only after the last of the canoes had made good its escape, leaving many dead savages behind, that the little force of breathless but exulting soldiers discovered their leader to be missing. In vain did they search for him. In vain did they run along the shore, firing ineffectual shots at the departing fleet. He was not to be found, nor had they any knowledge of his fate.

So their jubilation over this wonderful deliverance and victory was turned into sorrow, and it was with heavy hearts that, abandoning the little fortress, they set forth on a retreat towards the Niagara.



CHAPTER XXVI

FRIENDS IN CAPTIVITY

Not until the panic-stricken savages had put many miles of water between them and the scene of their recent discomfiture did they venture to land and establish a camp in which to attend to their wounded, repair damaged canoes, and recover as far as possible from the disaster of the morning. Among the first craft to make a landing was that in which Donald Hester, after slowly recovering consciousness, had lain for several hours, nearly blinded with a headache, so intense that a band of fire seemed to encircle his throbbing temples, vaguely wondering what had happened and where he was. On reaching the shore, the other occupants of the canoe disappeared without paying any attention to him; and, being thus left to his own devices, he proceeded to quench his feverish thirst as well as bathe his aching head. He wondered at finding blood clotted in his hair, and, dimly recalling the explosion, fancied that in some way he must have been among its victims. While he was thus engaged, other canoes were arriving and being drawn up on the beach. Beyond them fires were lighted, and already savory odors of cooking reminded him how very faint he was from hunger. While considering how he should procure some of the food that seemed so abundant, his gaze was suddenly arrested by the appearance of a white man, who was stepping feebly from one of the latest-arrived canoes. For a moment Donald could hardly believe his own eyes. Then he strode hastily forward with outstretched hand.

"Christie, my dear fellow! Is it possible?"

"Donald! How came you here?" exclaimed the new arrival, his drawn face lighting with the recognition of a dear friend amid so many enemies.

"But you are wounded!" they both cried at once.

"A mere nothing," said Donald.

"Only a few scratches," answered Christie, in a careless tone.

Each insisted on bathing and binding up, as well as circumstances would admit, the hurts of the other, for which purpose they tore strips from Christie's shirt. Donald was relieved to find that the knife-cuts from which his friend was bleeding were only flesh wounds, and not at all dangerous; while the latter was equally pleased to discover that the ugly gash on Donald's head looked much more serious than it really was.

Their surgical operations ended, the two sought some place where they might rest, and learn from each other the causes of the captivity that brought about such an unexpected meeting. They seemed to be unguarded and left entirely to their own devices, but the moment they attempted to go beyond the noisy limits of the camp they were confronted by a rifle-bearing young warrior who sternly motioned them back. Being thus repulsed several times, they were finally compelled to sit under a tree, well within the confines of the camp and in view of all its busy occupants. Here Christie learned of Donald's adventures since their midnight parting, and, while applauding his bravery, chided him for engaging in so dangerous an undertaking.

"If it had only been wholly successful, and left you at liberty," said Donald, "I should feel amply repaid."

"And so it would have done, but for my own carelessness," replied Christie, who thereupon gave an account of the explosion, its effect on the savages, and the manner in which he had fallen into their hands, while his men escaped. "I can't understand that mine business, though," he said, in conclusion, "for I had no idea Indians were up to such things."

"Do you recall the capital English of the person who demanded your surrender last night?" asked Donald.

"Certainly."

"Did the voice sound at all familiar?"

"I can't say that it did. Why?"

"It was that of an Englishman, though?"

"I believe so. And of course it was he who devised the plan of the mine. He must have been some renegade British soldier. The scoundrel! Would that I had him in my power for just five minutes! He must have met his just deserts, though, and fallen a victim to his own diabolical trap, thanks to you, for, besides ourselves, there is certainly no white man in this camp."

"If that is the case, and my own surmise is a true one, I don't know whether I am most glad or sorry," said Donald.

"What do you mean? What is your surmise?" inquired Christie, curiously.

"Do you remember that I mentioned seeing a certain bath-tub in one of the canoes that brought this war-party?"

"Bullen's? Of course I do. But you can't for an instant imagine that he had a hand in this outrage?"

"Well, you undoubtedly know the paymaster better than I, but I must confess that I should like to meet him, and hear his own account of his movements during the past ten days or so."

"That you are not likely to do, at least not for some time to come, if ever; and in the meantime I wish you could dismiss from your mind every shadow of such a terrible suspicion against a brother officer," said Christie, gravely.

"All right, my dear fellow, I will try to do so out of admiration for your loyalty to our cloth, if for no other reason. Now, to change the subject, what do you suppose is going on over there?"

"I have been wondering," replied Christie, "and at the same time admiring the barbaric gorgeousness of that central figure. He is certainly the most terrific dandy in savage style that ever I laid eyes on. Seems to be in some sort of a mess with his fellow-heathen, too, judging from his expression and surroundings. It looks like some sort of forest court-martial: and, by Jove! I believe it is one."

The scene thus referred to was that of a circle of grave warriors seated about a small fire, and listening to the harangue of one who stood in an open space reserved for him at one side. Beyond the circle were gathered the younger men and such squaws as were free from culinary duties. The speaker was, as Christie had remarked, an Indian dandy of the most extreme type, although short in stature as compared with the long-limbed warriors surrounding him. His head was surmounted by a gaudily colored plume of feathers held in place by a glittering band or tiara that encircled his brows. Secured about his waist by a broad belt of rattlesnake skin, but falling back from the upper part of his body, was a fine white blanket edged with fur and so elaborately embroidered with beads and quills that the original fabric was almost concealed. His feet and ankles were protected by moccasins of fawn skin, also beautifully embroidered. But the triumph of forest art, as displayed on his person, lay in the wonderful painting of his entire body, which was covered with intricate designs in the most vivid colors on a background of black, and the prismatic effect was so bewilderingly gorgeous, that, as Christie said to Donald, "it was enough to mortify a rainbow."

In spite of his paint and feathers the individual thus lavishly decorated did not seem happy. In fact, he appeared miserably nervous and apprehensive; or, as Christie remarked, as though he had been condemned to exchange his gaudiness for something more modest, like the plumage of a peacock, for instance. "Isn't he lovely, though?" continued the young officer. "Now I know, what I should never otherwise have suspected, that the savage mind is capable of an artistic expression more sublime than anything yet conceived by civilization."

"Yes," replied Donald, absently, "but there are several things about the fellow that I don't understand. To begin with, he is talking to those other chaps through an interpreter. Then he does not gesticulate, while most Indian orators depend more upon signs than words for effect. He stands with his toes turned out, and his ears are not cut. In fact, I don't believe he is any more an Indian than I am."

"What do you think he is?" inquired Christie, apprehensively.

"I don't know what he is; but I believe him to be an—a Frenchman."

"Oh!" said the other, in a relieved tone. "Do you really? I—Hello? what's that? Bullen's tub! By Jove!"

One of the older chiefs had been talking for a few moments, and now, evidently by his command, two young men brought the famous bath-tub into the circle and set it down close beside the dandy. Another presented a dish of water. The gorgeous individual shuddered as he took it, like one showing the first symptoms of hydrophobia. He looked imploringly about him, said something which was answered by an angry exclamation to the effect that the order just given must be obeyed.

The man stooped, took something from a compartment in the tub, with trembling hand, apparently dropped it into the vessel of water, and lifted the latter into plain view. In a breathless silence all eyes were turned toward it. For a moment the gorgeous one held it aloft, and then, as no result followed his manipulation, he dropped it with a sort of a groan, and gazed about him with the tearfulness of a hunted animal.

A murmur of discontent arose from the savage throng surrounding him. Donald glanced at Christie, whose face had grown deadly pale, but said nothing. Both young men had risen in their excitement, and now stood watching the strange scene with eager interest.

Now the elderly warrior picked up a stone and handed it to the dandy with an expressive gesture. Instead of obeying he shook his head despairingly, and an ominous growl came from the assemblage. Again Donald looked at Christie, whose face was now tense and drawn, as though he were suffering mental anguish.

Amid a deadly silence the warrior again advanced, and handed the man a smooth piece of bark, at the same time making certain motions that seemed to be clearly understood. The unfortunate dandy took the bark and held it irresolutely for a moment, while his gaze roved wildly over the assembly. All at once it rested on the two white men, whose presence he seemed to note for the first time. With a loud cry he dropped the bark and started to run in their direction.

In an instant he was seized, and with yells of rage the throng of savages rushed toward him. Eager hands tore away the nodding plume of feathers, the embroidered robe, and whatever else they could clutch, until only his coat of paint remained. Then, as the warriors stepped aside, the squaws, armed with sticks and clubs, fell upon him like so many furies, beating him unmercifully. He howled, danced, fought, ran this way and that, and, finally, breaking from his tormentors, fled to where the two young men were standing.

"Save me!" he cried. "Christie! Hester! save me!"

"By Heavens! It is Bullen!" gasped Christie.

"So I thought some time ago," said Donald.

As the fugitive reached them, he sprang behind Donald, crying,—

"The mark on your arm, Hester! Show it to them! Nothing else will save us!"

With these words he clutched at the sleeve of Donald's hunting-shirt with such energy it was torn from the shoulder, and the tattooed token was fully displayed. At sight of it the foremost of the mob, which had been intent on capturing the trembling figure, now crouched behind Donald, halted as though in obedience to an imperious order. Then they crowded forward for a closer examination of the talismanic mark, staring at it with expressions of awe and wonder.



CHAPTER XXVII

HOW THE PAYMASTER NAVIGATED LAKE ERIE IN A TUB

As already stated, Donald was ignorant of the meaning of the mark tattooed on his arm, but with this manifestation of its power he could not longer doubt that, to Indian eyes at least, its significance was of great importance. This was the third time that it had afforded him material aid in times of critical danger, though Bullen had witnessed its effect but once, and Christie never until the present moment. Moreover, as the latter had not learned until now that his friend bore such a mark, his amazement at the paymaster's appearance was divided with curiosity concerning it. That it was a powerful talisman was proved by the evidence; for not only had the furious squaws who were belaboring poor Bullen slunk away when it was extended protectingly above him, but the warriors now gazing at it were evidently animated only by a respectful curiosity. As Christie also looked at the magic emblem, he saw the outline of an animal, that might be meant for a bear, encircled by an oval formed of two serpents. Above the whole was a tiny triangle, enclosing the rude semblance of an eye.

Several of the Indians surrounding Donald pointed to figures on their own arms, similar to that of the animal on his, but without the remainder of the device. These gravely shook hands with him, and then walked away. Then came the one who had acted as Bullen's interpreter, and proudly displayed on his arm a tattooed mark identical with that borne by Donald, save that the surmounting eye was not enclosed. This man did not offer to shake hands; but, folding his arms in a peculiar manner, as though to indicate the oval of serpents, bowed and asked, in broken French: "What will my brother of the magic circle have? It is his to command, and mine to obey."

"I will have," replied the young man, quickly adapting his tone to the occasion, "food for myself and my friend. Then I would be left for a season, that I may question this white man, who, painted like a son of the forest, yet seeks my protection. Also, if my brother of the Metai is so inclined, I would learn something of the charge against him."

"It shall be done as my brother desires," answered the other. "As to the charge against this white man, it must also be told, for all things may be learned by the Metai. Know, then, that he came to us as a great medicine man, who wished to become Indian. He performed marvellous deeds, and won our confidence. He offered to show us how we might safely capture the fort of the log house. He placed powder so as to destroy it. Then, in the night, when all was ready, he moved the powder by his magic. Without going near the place where it was he made it to explode, so that it killed many of our young men, and turned to water the hearts of others. For this wickedness the Great Spirit took from him his medicine, so that he can no longer do the things he once did, as was shown in the tests but now. Therefore is he become a dog, and must die as a dog when my brother shall be finished with him."

"It is well," replied Donald, gravely, "and later I will speak further concerning this matter with my brother of the Metai, and with the chiefs."

With another profound bow the interpreter retired, while the squaws brought an abundance of cooked meat and parched corn, which they set before the famished white men. One of them also brought bandages, and a healing salve for the dressing of Donald's wound; but by signs he intimated that she must first attend to Christie's hurts, which she did.

Then they were left to themselves, and fell ravenously upon the food; but when Christie saw that Bullen was about to eat with them, he drew back, and said sternly: "Hester, I doubt if it is becoming for officers loyal to His Majesty's service to break bread with one who is, to say the least, under a grave suspicion of treachery."

"Do you mean that I am thus suspected?" demanded the paymaster.

"I do, Mr. Bullen," replied Christie.

"But I can easily explain everything. You see—"

"Were you not with the enemy during the attack on Fort Presque Isle?"

"Yes; but—"

"Did you not teach him to throw up breastworks and open a mine?"

"I did; but—"

"Was it not you who demanded the surrender of the post?"

"It was; but as—"

"That will do, sir. Your admissions are sufficient to debar you from our company. Hester, if this man insists upon eating now, we must let him eat alone."

"For Heaven's sake, gentlemen!" cried the little man, with an agonized expression on his painted face. "Do not condemn me without a hearing. I can explain everything to your satisfaction, indeed I can."

"It seems to me that you are a little hasty in your conclusions, Christie," said Donald. "It is certainly unfair to condemn a man without hearing what he has to say, and I for one am too hungry to listen to Mr. Bullen's explanations before eating. So let us fall to and dispose of the more pressing matter before we consider the more important."

Although Christie accepted this advice, he did so with a bad grace, for he was feeling very keenly the loss of his post; and the meal was eaten in an embarrassing silence. When it was finished, they rid themselves of its debris by simply removing to another place, where, though many eyes watched them curiously from all parts of the camp, they were allowed to converse unmolested.

"Now, Mr. Bullen," said Donald, who was forced to take the lead by Christie's stiff silence, "we shall be pleased to listen to your story, and especially glad to have you explain away the suspicions which, you must confess, we have grounds for entertaining."

"Yes," replied the little paymaster, whose present humbleness was in striking contrast to his former pomposity, "I can understand how, from your point of view, my recent course of action may be open to misconception. I hope, however, to prove to you very quickly that, while I may have made mistakes and played the part of a fool, I have acted with the most honorable intentions, as well as with a sincere desire to advance the cause to which I am pledged. You need not fear that I shall omit any detail, nor fail to state the exact facts of the case, for I realize only too clearly how absolutely my reputation rests in the hands of you two. I also believe that my very life depends on Hester's influence with yonder savages, and the extent to which he is willing to exert it. Therefore, with your permission, I will begin my story at the moment when, as I was taking my accustomed evening bath on Pelee Point some ten days ago, there came a sound of distant firing that caused you, Hester, to seize your gun and disappear without a word. I must say that at the time I felt rather sore over your desertion, nor can I understand now how it is that I meet you so far from those whom I thought you were most anxious to discover and protect."

"Do you mean," demanded Donald, excitedly, "that you know what became of my sister Edith and her companion?"

"I do, for I not only spent two days in their company about a week ago, but it is owing to Miss Hester, your sister, that I find myself in this present predicament."

"How? Where? Are they safe?" demanded both listeners.

"I believe them to be comparatively safe," replied Bullen, "but if you will permit me to continue my story in my own way, you can judge for yourselves."

"Very well! only get on quickly," urged Christie, who was now as eagerly interested as he had been indifferent but a moment before.

"As I was saying," continued the paymaster, "Hester had hardly disappeared when both myself and my man were seized by the Indians of our crew, and for a moment I thought they were about to put us to death. Then they hit on another plan with regard to me, which was to set me adrift, naked as I was, in my tub. What they did with poor Tummas I have no knowledge."

"Set you adrift in your tub?" repeated Donald, incredulously.

"Yes. You know I always claimed that it was a capital life preserver, though I must admit that I would have chosen to test its sea-going qualities on a body of water somewhat smaller than Lake Erie. However, as I had no choice in the matter, I was set adrift, as I say. Fortunately for me the sea was smooth, for an off-shore breeze soon carried me beyond reach and sight of land, where I must quickly have been swamped had there been any waves moving. After awhile I became so thoroughly chilled and benumbed that I thought I should perish with the cold, as indeed I should, had I not bethought me of the canvas hood on the back of my tub. This, after infinite labor, and the most careful balancing to prevent an upset, I finally managed to obtain. Wrapped in it, I made out to exist through that fearful night, which seemed as though it would never end.

"In the morning I was out of sight of land, though soon after sunrise I detected a speck lying in the direction I was taking, that afterwards proved to be a small island. A breeze sprang up with the sun, and though it drove me along more rapidly, it also sent little waves slopping over the sides of my tub, so that I was obliged to bail pretty constantly with a sponge. At the same time I was broiled and frizzled by the blaze of the sun on my bare body. To remedy this, I bit away some of the stitches in the bottom of my canvas bag, until I made an opening through which I could thrust my head. I completed the garment thus formed by opening holes in the sides for my arms. Upon my unprotected head, which, as you see, is inclined to be bald, the sun beat with such fury that I feared my brain would be affected, until I conceived the happy thought of tying on a wet sponge.

"By the time I was thus equipped, it was nearly noon, and the island I had been approaching all the morning was close at hand. I saw, however, that I was in danger of drifting past without touching it, and to avert this evil I began to paddle with my hands. In order to preserve the equilibrium of the tub under these efforts I was obliged to paddle it back foremost. Thus I was completely hidden from the shore, nor could I see it save at a distance on either side.

"At length, when I was about used up by this unaccustomed exertion, my craft touched bottom, and I joyfully stepped out in water not over my knees. To my dismay, I was immediately seized by a couple of savages, who had evidently been waiting for me, and found that I had escaped from one enemy only to fall into the hands of another. The feeling thus experienced was, however, as nothing compared with what I underwent when I saw standing but a short distance away three ladies, who were regarding me with curiosity and amazement. Imagine, if you can, my mingled horror and pleasure at recognizing in two of them the very persons whom you and I, Hester, had been so anxious to overtake."

"Not my sister!" cried Donald.

"Yes, your sister, Miss Edith, and Madam Rothsay. I don't think they recognized me at first, for when I tried to make the best of the situation by speaking and expressing my happiness at thus meeting them, Miss Edith gave a sort of a gasp and cried: 'Why, aunty! I do believe it is Mr. Bullen!' She seemed so distressed, that I hastened not only to assure her of my identity, but that with the exception of a few blisters I was quite well. I also attempted to divert her mind by praising the wonderful sea-going qualities of my tub; but all at once she—"

"Oh, Bullen! Bullen! oh Lord! I imagine the tableau!" roared Donald, shouting with uncontrollable laughter at the scene thus presented to his imagination. Even Christie smiled. The startled Indians regarded the white men with wonder, and the little paymaster gazed at Donald with mute indignation.



CHAPTER XXVIII

THE PAYMASTER IN WAR-PAINT AND FEATHERS

"That is just what Miss Edith did," remarked Bullen, in a grieved tone, when Donald's outburst of mirth had somewhat subsided.

"What?"

"Laughed. And when I tried to convince her that my unfortunate predicament was not a subject for merriment, she only laughed the more, until finally she ran away and disappeared in the forest, with which most of the island was covered."

"Well, I don't blame her," said Donald. "Why, man, the spectacle must have been enough to make a graven image chuckle. Didn't Madam Rothsay laugh, too?"

"Certainly not. She only coughed and smiled and apologized in the sweetest manner for having accidentally been a witness to my arrival; hoped they would have the pleasure of seeing me later after I had recovered from the effects of my voyage, and all that sort of thing. Behaved in the most lady-like manner, by Jove."

"And the third lady? By the way, who was she?"

"Oh, she was only an Indian girl; but a stunner, for all that. She may have laughed, but I didn't notice; for she ran after Miss Edith. I found out about her afterwards. She is Pontiac's daughter, and her name is Ah-mo, which means the bee or the sweet one. She was educated in the convent at Montreal and went into society there. Refused a French count, I believe, and all that sort of thing. Don't you remember the fellows at Niagara were talking of her? As near as I could make out, she had been sent by her father to look after the ladies at the time of the attack on Cuyler's party, and was acting the part of hostess when I met them, or something of that kind."

"Ah-mo," repeated Donald, meditatively, and smiling as though the name recalled a pleasant vision. "Well, what became of you after that?"

"Oh! when they saw that I was a friend of the ladies, those Indian chaps behaved very decently; took me to their camp, gave me something to eat, and fixed me up as well as they knew how. Of course I was obliged to do the best I could with what they had to offer, and as paint constituted the principal part of their costume I was obliged to make use of it. They all took a hand at decorating me, and I must say that I think the tout ensemble of my appearance as an Ottawa warrior was rather neat."

"Extremely so," admitted Donald.

"That white blanket I borrowed from Miss Pontiac," continued the little paymaster, "and the moccasins I got from her brother. Of course there wasn't such a thing as a wig to be had, and so I made a liberal use of feathers in its place. The best part of the day was spent in getting me into shape, and when I called on the ladies in the evening I vow they didn't recognize me. Took me for a sure-enough Indian, and thinking I didn't understand English, I suppose, passed remarks on my appearance.

"'Isn't he a guy?' said Miss Edith.

"'Not at all,' replied Madam Rothsay; 'he is by far the best-looking Indian I have seen, and I shouldn't be surprised if he were Pontiac himself.'"

Here Donald winked at Christie.

"When I thanked her for the compliment," continued the paymaster, "and they recognized my voice, I thought that Miss Edith would have a fit, she laughed so immoderately. In fact, she did nothing but laugh whenever she caught sight of me until an event occurred that gave her something more serious to think about. It struck me as being pretty rough on a man who was trying to make the most of his opportunity to win her good graces."

"What happened to divert her from the absurdity of your masquerade?" inquired Christie.

"Nothing more nor less than news of the proposed attack on you," replied Bullen. "During the second day of my stay on the island, the war-party destined for Presque Isle came along and camped there for a few hours. I had been amusing myself and establishing a reputation as medicine man among the few Indians stationed there, by rehearsing some of my old tricks, and when this new gang appeared, nothing would do but an exhibition for their benefit. They were so impressed with my power over the fire-demon, that they invited me to join them. They promised me all sorts of honors if I would comply, and threatened to test my powers by subjecting me to torture by fire in case I refused. I had no idea at that time of their especial mission, and was wondering how to escape from my awkward fix, when at that moment Miss Edith appeared."

"Laughing as usual, I suppose?" said Donald, a little bitterly, for he was beginning to think that his sister exhibited rather too much lightness of heart, in view of the gravity of her own situation, to say nothing of the dangers and hardships he was undergoing on her behalf.

"So far from it," replied the paymaster, "that there were traces of tears on her cheeks, and she was evidently suffering great mental distress.

"'Oh, Mr. Bullen!' she said in a low tone, so as not to be overheard by the savages, in case any of them understood English, 'I have just learned of something dreadful. This war-party is on its way to surprise Presque Isle, and capture the survivors of poor Mr. Cuyler's expedition, who have probably sought refuge there. Just think how terrible it would be if they should succeed, and our friends should be killed! Can't you do something to frustrate their wicked plan? You seem to have gained such an influence over them, I am sure you can if you only will.'

"I was rather staggered by this news, of course, and when she added: 'If you would only try, Mr. Bullen, and should succeed in saving the brave men in that fort, I should ever esteem you among the very dearest of my friends,' my resolution was instantly taken.

"I answered: 'For your sake, Miss Edith, I will make the effort and do what lies in my power to thwart the design of the red villains.' With that it was really touching to witness her gratitude and to hear her say that she should pray for my safety and success from that moment."

"She must have reasoned that I would be searching for her among Cuyler's fugitives and would very likely be in Presque Isle," reflected Donald.

"I don't see how that could be," retorted Bullen; "for I had carefully avoided any mention of your name, or of the fact that I had met you, thinking it useless cruelty to arouse her anxiety before your fate was definitely known."

"Which showed remarkable good sense on your part, and I thank you for your consideration," cried Donald. "Her anxiety then must have been for—"

"But how did you proceed to make good your promise?" interrupted Christie, hastily. "It seems to me you undertook a pretty big contract."

"So it was," responded the paymaster, "and in order to carry it out, I became, from that moment, an Indian of the Indians, a redskin of the redskins, and a savage of the savages. Why, for the sake of my paint I even gave up my daily tubbing, which, by the way, in my present position of deposed medicine man and white captive, I suppose I may have the melancholy satisfaction of resuming. I immediately agreed to accompany the war-party, telling them that, having once adopted the Indian costume, I had thereby cut myself off from all companionship with the whites. I promised to teach them the art of war as practised by the redcoats, and show them how to capture Presque Isle without the loss of a man.

"Oh you did, did you?" growled Christie.

"Yes, I did, and to begin with, I delayed their progress as much as possible, in the hope that Cuyler might reach you before we overtook him, and that you might join his retreat to Niagara. For this purpose I insisted that they carry along my tub, which, as I truly affirmed, contained all my medicine. Every morning when they were ready to start, I sat in it, under a closed tent of matting, and performed magic which they dared not interrupt. Sometimes the main body went on without us, so fearful were they of interfering with my mystic rites."

"What did you do under the tent?" asked Donald.

"Oh, just jabbered gibberish and rattled things and made smokes," replied the ex-medicine man.

"Then, when we reached Presque Isle and found it still occupied, I dissuaded them from an assault and proposed the scheme of a mine by which the fort might be destroyed without the loss of a warrior. According to their belief this mine was to run directly to the blockhouse, but I so laid it out that it should strike a building some distance away. Then I meant to collect all their powder, harmlessly explode it beneath the empty building, and thus leave them without means for prosecuting the fight. This plan miscarried through a cave-in of the roof, which showed them the true location of the mine's end and gave them a chance to set fire to the building nearest the blockhouse, which they hoped thus to destroy.

"When that plan failed, they continued the mine in the direction indicated by their new bearings and you would have been blown sky-high the moment it was completed, had I not persuaded them to first demand a surrender, and then wait until morning for your answer. Then I hoped, after getting you safely out of the place, with your arms and ammunition, under the pretence of surrendering, to harmlessly explode the mine, thus destroying all the enemy's powder, and leaving you masters of the situation. How that plan was frustrated, you know as well as I, though how the powder ever got moved and prematurely exploded, I never expect to discover unless you had a hand in it, Christie."

"No," replied the ensign, who had just received an expressive glance from Donald. "Neither I nor those with me had any definite knowledge of your mine before the explosion occurred."

"Well, however it was caused, my plans were completely defeated," said Bullen, "and not only that, but my reputation as a medicine man was ruined. As soon as we got to this place, a council was called, and I was charged with exploding the mine so as to destroy the Indians instead of the blockhouse. When I protested my innocence, they argued that I must, then, have lost my power over the fire-demon, and ordered me to repeat the magic tricks by which I had gained their confidence. You witnessed my humiliating failure, and its results; even my effervescing powders had become damp and failed to act.