She was so resolute that the boys did not resist, but did her bidding.

"But where did you get that fine Indian pony?" Fred asked when the
work was done.

"No questions, until we are on the other side," Agnes said; "that
belonged to a Pequot chief once; now it is mine by right of spoils."

She mounted her pony and at once drove it into the stream; the other
horses followed, urged on by the showers of blows which Fred and
Matthew gave them. The crossing was dangerous, for the river was wide
and the current swift. But after much struggling they got across and
spurred their mounts up the bank.

"There is a trail that leads north," Agnes said; "let's find it. Loose
the horses, and let me ride ahead."

"What a wonderful girl she is!" Matthew exclaimed; "she is a veritable
leader."

Soon the boys heard the hooting of an owl, and they whipped their horses
into a trot. Agnes had found the trail.

"Come now," she admonished them, "we must do some fast riding, until we
are safe. Then I will tell you my story."

For two hours they rode in silence, Agnes taking the lead on her piebald
pony which was a wonderful traveler in the woods, much more clever and
docile than their own horses.

Sometimes the trail was hard to find, but the Indian pony followed his
sense of smell and walked on and on.

"We are making good time, thanks to my pony," Agnes said jubilantly.
"Come on with your steeds, gentlemen; don't mind it, if they are a
little tired."

However, the horses were showing signs of fatigue, since they had not
eaten for two days.

"Very well," Agnes said; "look!"

The river made a sweeping bend, and from the high bank they could see
the fort.

"Hurrah!" Matthew cried; "how good it is to see the dwellings of white
men."

"We shall rest now," Agnes suggested, "and allow the horses their meal.
Look at my pony; isn't it a wonder? And it was gotten by just a little
trick."

"Yes, tell us the story," Matthew begged.

"Not until the fire is burning, and the meat is cooking, and the horses
are eating!" the girl said with a roguish smile.

Soon the log fire blazed brightly, and the horses were tied to ropes,
enjoying the rest and the grazing abundantly.

"Where did you get that meat from?" Fred asked; "why, you have stacks
of it."

"All Indian meat," the girl laughed; "spoils of war."

"Oh, tell us the story," Matthew asked again.

"Wait, until we are eating."

Afterwards, while they were sitting