d from the court, and spread themselves within the stockade, Mrs.
Willoughby and Beulah being foremost in the movement. The captain left
the gate, too, and even the men, who were just about to raise the last
leaf, suspended their toil. It was quite apparent some new cause for
uneasiness or alarm had suddenly awoke among them. Still the stack of
arms remained untouched, nor was there any new demonstration among the
Indians. The major watched everything, with intense attention, through
the glass.

"What is it, dear Bob?" demanded the anxious Maud. "I see my dearest
mother--she seems alarmed."

"Was it known to her that you were about to quit the house, when you
came out on this walk?"

"I rather think not. She and Beulah were in the nursery with little
Evert, and my father was in the fields. I came out without speaking to
any person, nor did I meet any before entering the forest."

"Then you are now first missed. Yes, that is it--and no wonder, Maud,
it creates alarm. Merciful God! How must they all feel, at a moment
like this!"

"Fire your rifle, Bob--that will draw their eyes in this direction, and
I will wave my handkerchief--perhaps _that_ might be seen. Beulah
has received such signals from me, before."

"It would never do. No, we must remain concealed, watching their
movements, in order to be able to aid them at the proper time. It is
painful to endure this suspense, beyond a doubt; but the pain must be
borne in order to ensure the safety of one who is so very, very
precious to us all."

Notwithstanding the fearful situation in which she was placed, Maud
felt soothed by these words. The language of affection, as coming from
Robert Willoughby, was very dear to her at all times, and never more
than at a moment when it appeared that even her life was suspended, as
it might be, by a hair.

"It is as you say," she answered gently, giving him her hand with much
of her ancient frankness of manner; "we should be betrayed, and of
course lost--but what means the movement at the Hut?"

There was indeed a movement within the stockade. Maud's absence was now
clearly ascertained, and it is needless to describe the commotion the
circumstance produced. No one thought any longer of the half of the
gate that still remained to be hung, but every supposable part of the
house and enclosure had been examined in quest of her who was missing.
Our heroine's last remark, however, was produced by certain indications
of an intentio