that they might be
safe. Jesus died for Samowat that he may be saved. Samowat, the blood
of Jesus Christ cleanses you from all sin. Samowat, Jesus will come
right away and take Samowat home to where happiness is. Samowat, hear
my voice."

The Indian breathed heavily and he fought hard to speak. His native
Mohican, pronounced with infinite tenderness by Agnes, had made a deep
impression on him.

"Samowat," he stammered weakly, "has saved his little 'bird of the
woods.' Samowat loves Jesus, and is not afraid to die."

For a moment he struggled in silence to gain strength for speech.

Fred poured some cold tea into his mouth which he sipped eagerly.

"It is well," he said after a few moments. "Samowat is going home to
Jesus. But---but little white warrior---must go---go---north. Pequots
on war path---they south. Hurry, little paleface warrior. Kill
horses---go Indian fashion---walk."

Fred bent over him for his voice was weak. Yet the Indian struggled
bravely to finish his speech.

"He---scout---kill me. Pequots come soon. Flee."

These were his last words. Exhausted by the terrific loss of blood,
his heart failed, and he died peacefully without even a trace of agony.

Agnes wept bitterly, as she pressed the guide's hand. Also Fred was
overcome with emotion, and he bit his lips until the blood flowed.

"Sister," he said, "call Matthew and the Indian servant; we must bury
the brave guide."

The task was assigned to the Indian servant, who alone knew how to bury
him in a manner that would hide him from the curious and keen eyes of
the Indians. The servant covered the graves with leaves and so
skillfully did he conceal the resting place that not even Fred could see
where it was.

"We must now kill the horses," the boy said when all was finished.

"But why kill the horses?" Agnes asked. "Why, we can cover more
ground on horseback than on foot."

"We must leave the trail," Fred answered, "and in the woods they will
betray us. Also on horseback the Indians can see us the better and
shoot us before we know they are near."

"Let's not kill them now," Agnes pleaded. "Jenny is so true an animal.
I can never see her die here."

"All right, sister," Fred assented; "we shall try to preserve their
lives. Only I don't know how to get through the woods with them."

CHAPTER IX

THE REMAINS OF THE LOG HOUSE

In obedience to the instructions of the dying Indian guide, Fred left
the trail a