events. Special incidents were noted by different
persons, as the circumstances favored them, while others saw and knew
nothing of what took place under their very eyes.

Mr. and Mrs. Ashbridge hurried down the wooded slope in the gloom, each
holding a hand of Mabel between them. At the side of the flatboat, where
there were crowding in increased excitement, the parents released the
child, and the father turned to help in the defence against the Indians,
who immediately attacked them. Mabel entered the boat near the bow, and
had crouched there several minutes, in obedience to the order of the
missionary, to avoid the bullets that were whistling about, when the
idea seized her that there were much better quarters at the stern, where
the pushing was less.

The best way, as it struck her, to reach the spot, was by bounding
ashore and darting the few paces thither. She made the attempt, and was
in the act of leaping back when her arm was gripped by a warrior, who
hurried her from the spot.

Although bewildered and partly dazed by the rush of events, the child
resisted and screamed for help, but she was powerless in the hands of
the sinewy savage, who forced her from the edge of the river.

It must be remembered, that in addition to the confusion it was night,
and the partial moon in the sky was obscured at intervals by passing
clouds. Beside, among the shadows of the wood the gloom was so deepened
that the wonder is, not that none of Mabel's friends saw her capture but
that Simon Kenton observed it.

He did so a minute later, and knew at once that the little one, if saved
at all, must be saved instantly. He cleared most of the intervening
space with his tremendous bound, and made for the Shawanoe like a
cyclone. He had noted the point where the warrior had passed from view,
as well as the general direction taken by him; consequently a quick dash
in the right course ought to overtake him.

Such was the dash made by the ranger, at the imminent risk of colliding
with tree-trunks, limbs, and boulders, and with the result that within
twenty feet of the river he ran plump against the Indian who had the
terrified child in charge, and with no suspicion of his furious pursuer.

The attack of the Bengal tiger upon the hunter that is throttling its
whining cubs, is no fiercer, more resistless and lightning-like, than
was the assault of Simon Kenton upon the buck that was making off with
the little daughter of Norman Ashbridge.