war-cry of the Canarsees, uttered by the sole survivor of the tribe:

"Taa-a-har-r-whoo-wah-wah-wah-wah-ah-ah-ah!

It was an uncanny wail, falling upon the senses of the ambushed Mohawks like a shriek from a ghostly phalanx of the slaughtered, whose bones lay unburied amid the smoking ruins of their homes.

For minutes all was still as the grave, a hush so deep that the sudden rustle of the wind-tossed, dead leaves was distinctly audible to the defenders within the dwelling.

So long was the silence maintained that even Ensign Baxter and stout James Hubbard began to entertain a hope that the assailants had departed, but their false confidence was destroyed by the young warrior stationed at the lookout.

"Have they gone, dost thou think, friend Canady?" questioned Baxter.

"Hide in woods-come back," replied Canady, positively.

His prevision was verified in the most startling

manner.

Away to the right of the spot where the savages had entered the forest a red light suddenly gleamed, rising like a meteor from the shelter of a great boulder, and falling upon an open space, a single torch flaming balefully, and illuminating a radius of several yards, flashing redly over a human form standing beneath the arms of a spreading maple.

"God Almighty! it is the Major!" exclaimed Sir Henry.

Swear not at all, friend Henry," admonished Elizabeth Applegate, mildly.

"Dost thou not consider that thy profanity can do friend Cornelius no good? Verily, my son, thou hast strangely forgotten thy creed, and that it is

written Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain,'" said Lady Moody, rebukingly.

But in his overwhelming surprise and consternation Sir Henry quite lost sight of his Quaker principles, and their peculiar dialect as well, and in spite of his mother's remonstrances he delivered a volume of oaths that would have done credit to a trooper in Flanders.

Higher streamed the torch, lighting up the features of the prisoner, upon whom all eyes were fixed in a fascinated stare. Their attention thus diverted to another point, they saw nothing of the dark objects crawling towards the spot where the dead and wounded Mohawks lay. Ten brawny warriors had wormed their way over the brown sod and lay prone upon the earth among the wounded and dead. Two of the wounded had been merely stunned, and had regained their senses sufficiently to creep away with the rescuing party, while three others, whose injuries had been more painful than dangerous, were aided by their friends, and thus rescued and rescuers dragged their dark, painted forms across the open space and were presently lost in the woods.

The dead were left as they had fallen, and as the last of the wounded gained the shelter, he rose to his feet and gave a yell of defiance.

Canady's sharp orbs had detected the ruse, but only at the last moment, and thus divined the object of the demonstration from the opposite quarter.

As the yell pealed out, those watching the white prisoner saw him throw up his arms and topple to the ground, as if struck by a bullet, but on the instant he was being dragged at full length across the rough ground, and disappeared from view just as the torch sputtered and went out. Not a Mohawk was in sight, but the young Canarsee knew that the free end

of a thong about the captive's waist was grasped by a powerful warrior concealed in the thicket near at hand.

The exhibition of their captive had served the double purpose of bravado and as a ruse by which to remove their wounded.

Anxiously the little band waited, but neither sight nor sound of the savages rewarded their vigil.

"Mohawk gone-not come back!" declared Canady, after an interval of silence. "Big wigwam not burn, Mohawk no get in. Gone burn 'nother wigwam-pale-face sleep, not see Mohawk, go kill, take scalp."

He waved his hand in the direction he believed the band to have taken.

"Lawrence's house?" asked Hubbard.

Lawrence-big wigwam," assented the Indian. "If they attack the lion in his stronghold they'll e'en find no easy prey. Art sure, friend Canady?" inquired Ensign Baxter.

Canady know-find 'em-let pale-face open door-let Canady go!"

It was all in vain that they combated his decision, useless that they pleaded the danger after his fatigue from the already long journey, his weakness from the loss of blood, or the terrible shock he had sustained.

"Pale-face chief much good to Indian-give 'em blanket, give 'em meat-give drink. Canady not forget good pale-face squaw-leg long-run fast!"

Perceiving all protests vain, Sir Henry unbarred the door, and silently the loyal young brave slipped into the darkness and sped away on the trail of the assassins.

CHAPTER XXXVII

VIKING

"Cease to consult, the time for action calls,
War, horrid war, approaches to your walls."

RR-RR-RR-RR-RR! Urr-rr-rr-rr!"

The great Livonian hound that had been the constant companion of Colonel Lawrence since his arrival at his cousin's house gave vent to the threatening growl.

He was lying upon the bearskin mat in front of the hearth, just as he had lain every night since Captain Lawrence, well pleased with the affection the animal had at once evinced for the visitor, had presented the Colonel with the noble brute, who was a recent purchase of the Captain's while on his late visit to Nova Scotia, and the Colonel prized his kinsman's gift far more than he would have valued a present of silver or gold.

Awakened by the warning growl, Lawrence raised himself upon his elbow and looked about the room.

From the edge of a mass of ashes under which the fire was buried a line of red coals cast a smouldering light, just sufficient to reveal the position of the animal, with body raised upon the haunches, his fore feet resting upon the hearth, his massive head turned expectantly toward the window, his ears and back bristling, his nose tilted as if scenting game. And while his master looked, the hound lifted himself and walked lightly to the window, placed his huge paws

upon the sill and rubbed his nose against the pane, as if asking that he might be allowed a view of the outer world.

Obeying the mute appeal, Colonel Lawrence raised the sash and allowed the shutter to swing back sufficiently to permit a view of the park to the westward, and adown a vista where the moon gleamed out with pallid face between inky bars of cloud low down in the horizon ere it vanished in the blackness.

"Must be nearly three in the morning," muttered Lawrence. "The moon is nigh to the setting. By Jupiter, what a gale! What ails you, Viking?" he apostrophised, patting the animal's head, as the dog snuffed vigorously, and a deeper growl rumbled in his throat. What do you see, old fellow, eh?"

Thick darkness had fallen, the trees groaned and writhed, a few particles of hail tapped the windows like a shower of shot, the elemental uproar denoting that the storm so long in gathering was near at hand.

The Colonel was about to close the window when the growl of anger changed to a welcoming whine, and there was the sudden, swift patter of feet, that ceased just beneath the window.

Something, either animal or human was there, but what human being could be prowling about at this abnormally early hour?

"Quotha! I'll see!" muttered the Colonel, and almost like an echo a voice answered, as if the words had been heard by the intruder:

"Ka-har-wee!"

The single word, in the Indian tongue, was uttered in a cautious tone, and answered by a whimper from Viking, and a wag of the tail.