to swim his party across
the channel on the horses, when a flash of lightning, brighter than
usual, disclosed the fancied island a cluster of shaking tree-tops, whose
trunks as well as the soil that supported them, were buried fathoms deep
in the flood. At the same moment, he heard coming on a gust that repelled
and deadened for a time the louder tumult from the rocks above, other
roaring sounds, indicating the existence of other rocky obstructions at
the foot of the island, among which as he could now see, the same flash
having shown him the strength of the current in the centre of the
channel, the swimmer must be dashed, who failed to find footing on the
island.

"We are imprisoned, indeed," he muttered, bitterly: "Heaven itself has
deserted us."

As he uttered these repining words, stooping to dip the canteen with
which he was provided, in the water, a little canoe, darting forward with
a velocity that seemed produced by the combined strength of the current
and the rower, shot suddenly among the rocks and bushes at the entrance
of the ravine, wedging itself fast among them, and a human figure leaped
from it to the shore. The soldier started back aghast, as if from a
dweller of another world; but recovering his courage in an instant, and
not doubting that he beheld in the unexpected visitor a Shawnee and foe,
who had thus found means of assailing his party on the rear, he rushed
upon the stranger with drawn sword, for he had laid his rifle aside, and
taking him at a disadvantage, while stooping to drag the boat further
ashore, he smote him such a blow over the head, as brought him instantly
to the ground, a dead man to all appearance, since, while his body fell
upon the earth, his head,--or at least a goodly portion of it, sliced
away by the blow,--went skimming into the water.

"Die, dog!" said Roland, as he struck the blow; and not content
with that, he clapped his foot on the victim's breast, to give him the
_coup-de-grace_ when, wonder of wonders, the supposed Shawnee and dead
man opened his lips, and cried aloud, in good choice Salt-River
English,--"'Tarnal death to you, white man! what are you after?"

It was the voice, the never-to-be-forgotten voice, of the captain of
horse-thieves; and as Roland's sword dropped from his hand in the
surprise, up rose Roaring Ralph himself, his eyes rolling, as Roland saw
by a second flash of lightning, with thrice their usual obliquity, his
left hand scratching among the l