he forms against the bright firelight, and hope fled. It
was another party of the outlaws, four in number, and, the disappointed
lad swung the canoe around to the further shore and paddled safely past
without being discovered.

The night passed slowly away, and through the long hours the lad in the
canoe urged it steadily forward into the darkness. His tired, aching
brain was now possessed of but one thought, to paddle on, and on, and
on. His hands had cramped to the paddle handle, and the strokes were
feeble as a child's, but the blade still rose and fell regularly, and
the canoe still moved slowly ahead.

Daybreak found him in the same position, the paddle still slowly
moving, and his bloodshot, staring eyes still fixed ahead.

The rising sun brought him staggering to his feet, a cry of hope on his
lips.

Dead ahead, and more than a mile away, the river disappeared in a great
forest of strange-looking trees. Amongst its shelter might be found
food and friends, thought Walter, and the hope gave him fresh courage
and strength.

Before sinking back into his seat he carefully surveyed the further
shore. His gaze was arrested at a point about a mile behind the canoe.
There for about a half mile, the shore lay comparatively clear of
timber, very likely having been swept by fire at some time in the past.
It was not the character of the shore, however, that arrested Walter's
attention. His gaze was fixed upon four objects moving swiftly across
the open space and headed towards him. It required no great reasoning
to tell him that the four figures wore mounted outlaws and that they
had sighted the canoe. It was to be a race between ponies and canoe,
as to which should reach the forest first.

With the strength born of desperation, Walter forced the light canoe
ahead. Behind him the riders spurred their ponies on at the top of
their speed. Walter could see, by glancing over his shoulder from time
to time, that the outlaws were steadily gaining, but the canoe was
moving swiftly, also, and was rapidly drawing near to the strange
forest, and Walter decided with a thrill of joy that the enemy would
not arrive in time to cut him off from the shelter of the trees.

The outlaws were not slow to recognize this fact. Their rifles began
to crack and the bullets to whistle around the canoe. Fortunately the
motion of their mounts made their aim uncertain, and the bullets did
but little damage, only one touching the canoe