comfortable seat in the stern, upon
which it was possible to recline lazily while several strong-armed
natives paddled the craft through the shimmering, moonlit waters above
the rapids.

One evening, a month after the raising of the flag, they came from the
river, the night having been the most perfect they had seen, dark,
sombre, picturesque. The moon was hidden behind the banks of clouds,
which foretold the coming of rain, yet there was a soft, exquisite glow
on land and water, as if blue-black tints were being cast from aloft by
some mysterious, experimenting artist among the gods. It had been a
quiet, dreamy hour for both. As they walked slowly across the little
plain, followed by the oarsmen, they became cognizant of an
extraordinary commotion in the village. Pootoo and a dozen men came
running toward them excitedly.

"What's up, I wonder?" cried Hugh.

"It is the enemy. I know they have been sighted," she exclaimed
breathlessly.

And she was right. Just before sunset the guard at the top of the
gatepost had sighted the canoes of the invaders, far to the north.
According to the king, to whom the flying messenger had come, there were
myriads of canoes and they were headed for a part of the beach about
three leagues north of the village. It was the best place for landing
along the entire coast and was, besides, the point nearest the home of
the coming foe. It was evident that the enemy had miscalculated. They
came within eye range of the island before darkness set in. A half an
hour later and it would have been impossible to discern the boats in the
gloom. By merest chance their arrival was betrayed.

"Thank God, they can't surprise us," cried Hugh after he had learned
all. He was mad with excitement, burning with eagerness for the fray.

The possibility of defeat, did not enter his head, so sure was he that
he and his warriors could overthrow the invaders. His brain was filled
with the hope that he might some day tell the story of this battle to
the fellows at his club in Chicago. He could imagine himself sitting
with his heels on the window seat, relating to envious listeners the
details of the fight in the pass, the repulsing of the enemy, the chase
to the shore; the annihilation and--but no time was to be lost in
dreaming of the future when the imperative present demanded so much
of him.

At his side hurried the distressed, trembling young Englishwoman, her
heart almost paralyzed with fear. Two or three