d with moss and mould.
Some ten feet above the ground the main trunk divided into two, and in
the fork thus formed a hand had suddenly appeared, a large reddish hand,
which shook frantically from side to side in passionate dissuasion.
The next instant, as the two captives still stared in amazement, the
hand disappeared behind the trunk again and a face appeared in its
place, which still shook from side to side as resolutely as its
forerunner. It was impossible to mistake that mahogany, wrinkled skin,
the huge bristling eyebrows, or the little glistening eyes. It was
Captain Ephraim Savage of Boston!

And even as they stared and wondered a sudden shrill whistle burst out
from the depths of the forest, and in a moment every bush and thicket
and patch of brushwood were spouting fire and smoke, while the snarl of
the musketry ran round the whole glade, and the storm of bullets whizzed
and pelted among the yelling savages. The Iroquois' sentinels had been
drawn in by their bloodthirsty craving to see the prisoners die, and now
the Canadians were upon them, and they were hemmed in by a ring of fire.
First one way and then another they rushed, to be met always by the same
blast of death, until finding at last some gap in the attack they
streamed through, like sheep through a broken fence, and rushed madly
away through the forest, with the bullets of their pursuers still
singing about their ears, until the whistle sounded again to recall the
woodsmen from the chase.

But there was one savage who had found work to do before he fled.
The Flemish Bastard had preferred his vengeance to his safety!
Rushing at Onega, he buried his tomahawk in her brain, and then, yelling
his war-cry, he waved the blood-stained weapon above his head, and flew
into the hut where the prisoners still knelt. De Catinat saw him
coming, and a mad joy glistened in his eyes. He rose to meet him, and
as he rushed in he fired both barrels of his pistol into the Bastard's
face. An instant later a swarm of Canadians had rushed over the
writhing bodies, the captives felt warm friendly hands which grasped
their own, and looking upon the smiling, well-known faces of Amos Green,
Savage, and Du Lhut, they knew that peace had come to them at last.

And so the refugees came to the end of the toils of their journey, for
that winter was spent by them in peace at Fort St. Louis, and in the
spring, the Iroquois having carried the war to the Upper St. Lawrence,
the