clear waters edged with sand of a tender, greenish gray. Close to
the water's edge stood the lovers, and across the silence they could
hear, pulsating dimly, the hammers of them that were building the city.

"Listen," said the man, as he drew the girl closely to him and kissed
her on the forehead; "those are the strokes that are making a home for
_us_."

The girl lifted her lips for a kiss that never reached them. The man was
seized from behind, a dark hand covered his mouth; and Lieutenant Henry
Crewe, his sword unstirred in its scabbard, found himself pinioned hand
and foot, ere he had time to realize that other arms were about him than
those of the woman he loved. With her it fared in like fashion, save
that before they covered her mouth she found time for one long piercing
cry. It was heard by those who were working on the city palisades; but
no man could tell the direction whence it came. Presently a search party
set out for the thick woods lying a little north of west from the city;
but in the mean time the Indians had carried their captives
northeastward to the lakes, and were making all speed on the Fundy coast
by way of the Shubenacadie trail.

Henry Crewe was a tall man, and well sinewed, and for a brief space he
strove so fiercely with his bonds that his fair skin flushed well-nigh
purple, and his lips, under the yellow mustache, curled apart terribly,
like those of a beast at bay. Unable to endure the anguish of his
effort, Margaret averted her eyes, for she knew the hopelessness of it.
Like all the Nevilles of Nova Scotia to this day, the girl was somewhat
spare of form and feature, with dark hair, a clear, dark skin, and eyes
of deep color that might be either gray or green. Her terrible cry had
been far less the utterance of a blind terror than a deliberate signal
to the garrison at the fort, and so complete was her self-control that
when Crewe presently met her gaze his brain grew clearer, he forgot the
derision in the Indians' painted faces, ceased his vain struggles, and
bent all his thought to the task of finding means of deliverance.

The captives were thrown into canoes and paddled swiftly to the head of
the long basin which runs inland for miles from the head of the harbor.
At the beginning of the portage their feet were unbound, and their
mouths set free from the suffocating gags.

"Oh, Margaret! Margaret! To think I should have brought you to this!"
exclaimed Crewe in a harsh voice, the mome