gentlemen of his character. I was close upon his track, and he was in
imminent danger of capture. There seemed to be only one way of
escape--crossing the river above the Falls. By some means he obtained
a row-boat, and being a fair rower set out on his dangerous trip,
exulting in having outwitted me and made his escape. I remember very
well how he stood up in the boat, and with a smile on his face waved
me a mock adieu, as he impelled the little craft out toward the middle
of the river.

"He was a strong, sturdy rower, but he had no conception of the
strength and rapidity of the current. He battled manfully, but the boat
immediately began to tend towards the cataract with continually
increasing rapidity. At length he came to realize the fate that
certainly awaited him. His smile was succeeded by a look of despair. I
can see even now the expression of terror and desperation, formed upon
the poor fellow's face when he saw that, struggle as he might, there
was no help or deliverance, I am sure at that time he would have
welcomed me as a friend and savior, and gone with me willingly to
prison, if only he could have been rescued from the impending doom.
Still, however, he plied the oars with desperate vigor and would not
resign himself to his fate. I was painfully excited, and in the poor
fellow's peril quite forgot that he was a criminal of whom I was in
pursuit. The end came speedily. When six feet from the edge of the
cataract, he dropped his oars, threw up his hands, and an instant later
boat and man were swept down into the gulf below."

"Was his body ever found?" asked Fred.

"Yes, but it was so mangled as to be almost beyond recognition. Many a
time when looking at the Falls I have pictured to myself the unhappy
victim of that day's tragedy."

"I suppose," said Frank, "it is impossible to go over the cataract and
live."

"Not if all stories are to be believed. There is a boy in the village
here who is said to have gone over the Falls, and yet he does not seem
to have suffered any injury. The same story is told of a cat, but cats
are noted for having nine lives, and therefore the story is not so
surprising."

After a little more chat the three left the island and returned to the
mainland. They had hardly reached it when a telegraph boy approached
Mr. Ferguson and handed him a despatch.

He opened it and read as follows:

ELMIRA, SUNDAY.

My nephew, Edmund Lawrence, is at Niagara. Communicate with him.

PH