ible test, and he
neither winced nor cried out with fear. The second torture was that with
the rifle, only the most experienced warriors taking part in this. Shot
after shot was sent, all the bullets coming close to the Deerslayer's
head without touching it. Still no one could detect even the twitching
of a muscle on the part of the captive or the slightest winking of an
eye.

But we will not continue to describe the tortures to which the brave
Deerslayer was subjected, none of which could cause his brave spirit to
quail. Hetty, whose feeble mind won for her the esteem and care of the
Hurons--who believed that the feeble-minded were under the special
favour of the Great Spirit--unable to endure the thought of what
Deerslayer, their good friend, might be suffering, made her way to the
camp of the foe, carrying her Bible with her, and there addressed the
chiefs and warriors assembled at the 'sports.' They listened to her
patiently and kindly for a time, but after a while bade her sit down,
and proceeded with their dreadful work. In vain did Judith, dressed out
in all the brocaded finery from the old sea-chest, suddenly appear on
the scene, telling them that she was a great mountain-queen who had come
in person to demand that Deerslayer be set free. Both the sisters'
attempts failed, and death would have been the lot of the good man had
not troops from the nearest garrison arrived at the very moment when
they were most needed, and so saved Deerslayer.

[Illustration: The Deerslayer in the Hands of the Indians.]

[Illustration: "He grasped my left wrist."]

THE BOY TRAMP.

(_Continued from page 163._)

I descended to terrible depths during those homeless days, and, at the
lowest, when half-starving, dirty, hopeless, it happened that I almost
ran against Mr. Parsons. It was about a quarter to three, in Brook
Street. He stopped abruptly, and stood gazing at me with an evident
effort to maintain his usual expression of benevolence.

'Now,' he said, smoothly, 'you will just make up your mind to come along
with me, my lad.'

'I know I won't,' I answered.

He stood with his hands on the crook of his umbrella, while his lower
jaw moved as if he were trying to swallow something; but whether it was
one of his favourite aniseed lozenges, or his indignation against
myself, was more than I could tell. One thing, however, seemed certain:
if he strove to hide his wrath, it could only be with the object of
getting me o