ed at Kenton's luck that he broke forth giggling and thereby
drew against his own ribs a considerable improvement of Long-Hair's
pedal applications.

"Ventrebleu!" whined the old man, when the Indian had gone away again.
"Holy Mary! Jee-ru-sa-lem! They's nary bone o' me left 'at's not
splintered as fine as toothpickers! S'pose yer satisfied now, ain't ye,
Si Kenton? Ef ye ain't I'm shore to satisfy ye the fust time I git a
chance at ye, ye blab-mouthed eejit!"

Before this conversation was ended a rain began to fall, and it rapidly
thickened from a desultory shower to a roaring downpour that
effectually quenched not only the fires around which the savages were
dancing, but the enthusiasm of the dancers as well. During the rest of
the afternoon and all night long the fall was incessant, accompanied by
a cold, panting, wailing southwest wind.

Beverley lay on the ground, face upward, the rawhide strings torturing
his limbs, the chill of cold water searching his bones. He could see
nothing but the dim, strange canopy of flying rain, against which the
bare boughs of the scrub oaks were vaguely outlined; he could hear
nothing but the cry of the wind and the swash of the water which fell
upon him and ran under him, bubbling and gurgling as if fiendishly
exultant.

The night dragged on through its terrible length, dealing out its
indescribable horrors, and at last morning arrived, with a stingy and
uncertain gift of light slowly increasing until the dripping trees
appeared forlornly gray and brown against clouds now breaking into
masses that gave but little rain.

Beverley lived through the awful trial and even had the hardihood to
brighten inwardly with the first flash of sunlight that shot through a
cloud-crack on the eastern horizon. He thought of Alice, as he had done
all night; but now the thought partook somehow of the glow yonder above
old Vincennes, although he could only see its reflection.

There was great stir among the Indians. Long-Hair stalked about
scrutinizing the ground. Beverley saw him come near time and again with
a hideous, inquiring scowl on his face. Grunts and laconic exclamations
passed from mouth to mouth, and presently the import of it all could
not be mistaken. Kenton and Jazon were gone--had escaped during the
night--and the rain had completely obliterated their tracks.

The Indians were furious. Long-Hair sent out picked parties of his best
scouts with orders to scour the country in all di