lling, he had first struck upon his feet; his side,
from the force of the concussion, came rather violently in contact with
the jagged, projecting rocks. This gave a few severe flesh-cuts, which,
for the time being, were more painful and distressing than would have
been a wound of a more serious character.

Still, he found that he was unable to walk without great labor and pain,
and concluded to remain in his present position until morning. He
crawled back into the hiding-place, and disposed of himself for the
night. Little sleep, however, was gained, and the night seemed the
longest that he had ever spent.

When morning dawned, he emerged from his hard resting-place, and, with
great difficulty, made his way to the top. Then, shaping his course
toward the river, he reached it in the course of an hour or so. Here, to
his great joy, he found the boat that he and Kent had left. It was
pulled high and dry upon the bank, yet he succeeded in getting it in the
water, and, with a light heart, pushed out from the shore.

It was so much easier to propel the boat than to walk, that he had no
difficulty in making good headway. He had determined upon no course to
pursue, but continued moving forward with a sort of instinct, hardly
caring in what direction he went. He was moving toward the spot where
once the house of the Lelands stood; some impulse seemed drawing him
thitherward.

The truth was, Roland Leslie was thinking of Rosalind and her situation.
Although he had spoken to her but comparatively a few times, yet those
occasions had awakened a feeling in his breast which he found could not
be subdued; his love was growing day by day. He knew not whether she was
aware of his passion, but his fluttering heart told him, at least, that
she had not frowned upon him.

Young love rests upon the slightest foundation; thus Leslie was
encouraged and made hopeful by the remembrance of the friendly meeting
which he had with Rosalind. Then, as he awoke from this pleasant reverie
into which he had fallen, the consciousness that she was now a captive
among the Indians, the thought maddened him. He dipped his oars deep in
the water, and moved swiftly along.

It occurred to him that perhaps it would be best to keep a watch of the
shores ahead, to prevent running carelessly into danger. There might be
Indians concealed or lurking in the vicinity, and he would be easily
drawn into a decoy, should he be careless and thoughtless.

He turned a