by the
sound of a bugle call, and in a few minutes more the trampling of
feet was heard once again, and this time the sound was less and
more irregular.

"Some stragglers kept behind for something, seeking to catch up the
main body," spoke Rogers in a whisper. "Be ready, men; mark each
his foe, and then out upon them, and take prisoners if you can."

The taking of prisoners was most important. It was from them that
each side learned what was being done by the various commanders. A
prisoner was valuable booty to return with to the fort. Rogers
seldom went forth upon any important expedition without returning
with one or more.

The men swung by carelessly, laughing and talking. They had such
faith in their Indian scouts that they never thought of an ambushed
foe.

The ping of the rifles in their rear caused a strange panic amongst
them. They faced round to see the redoubtable Rogers spring out at
the head of a compact body of men.

But the strangest thing in that strange attack was a wild,
unearthly yell which suddenly broke from one of the Rangers.

It was like nothing human; it was like the fierce roar of some
terrible wild beast. Even Rogers himself was startled for the
moment, and looked back to see from whence it had come.

At that moment Charles Angell dashed forward in a frantic manner.
He had flung his gun from him; his eyeballs were fixed and staring;
there was foam upon his lips; his hair was streaming in the wind.
He bore an aspect so strange and fearful that the French uttered
yells of terror, and fled helter-skelter from the onslaught.

But if any had had eyes to note it, there was one Frenchman whose
face became ashy white as he met the rolling gaze of those
terrible, bloodshot eyes. He too flung away his gun, and uttered a
frantic yell of terror, plunging headlong into the wood without a
thought save flight.

"It is he! it is he! it is he!"

This was the shout which rang from the lips of Charles as he dashed
after the retreating figure. All was confusion now amid French and
Rangers alike; that awful yell, and something in the appearance of
Charles, had startled friend and foe alike.

There were several of the French soldiers left dead in the wood,
and one was captured and made prisoner; but the rest had fled like
men demented, and the Rangers could not come up with them. As for
Charles and his quarry, they had disappeared, and it was long
before any trace could be found of them.

Stark and