e bow of the boat
and to follow Jasper. All this was the work of an instant; but when the
Pathfinder reached the current that was sweeping round the turn, he felt
a sudden change in the weight he was dragging, and, looking back, he
found that both the Tuscarora and his wife had deserted him. The thought
of treachery flashed upon his mind, but there was no time to pause, for
the wailing shout that arose from the party below proclaimed that the
body of the young Iroquois had floated as low as the spot reached by
his friends. The report of a rifle followed; and then the guide saw that
Jasper, having doubled the bend in the river, was crossing the stream,
standing erect in the stern of the canoe, while Cap was seated forward,
both propelling the light boat with vigorous strokes of the paddles. A
glance, a thought, and an expedient followed each other quickly in one
so trained in the vicissitudes of the frontier warfare. Springing into
the stern of his own canoe, he urged it by a vigorous shove into the
current, and commenced crossing the stream himself, at a point so much
lower than that of his companions as to offer his own person for a
target to the enemy, well knowing that their keen desire to secure a
scalp would control all other feelings.

"Keep well up the current, Jasper," shouted the gallant guide, as he
swept the water with long, steady, vigorous strokes of the paddle; "keep
well up the current, and pull for the alder bushes opposite. Presarve
the Sergeant's daughter before all things, and leave these Mingo knaves
to the Sarpent and me."

Jasper flourished his paddle as a signal of understanding, while shot
succeeded shot in quick succession, all now being aimed at the solitary
man in the nearest canoe.

"Ay, empty your rifles like simpletons as you are," said the Pathfinder,
who had acquired a habit of speaking when alone, from passing so much
of his time in the solitude of the forest; "empty your rifles with an
unsteady aim, and give me time to put yard upon yard of river between
us. I will not revile you like a Delaware or a Mohican; for my gifts are
a white man's gifts, and not an Indian's; and boasting in battle is no
part of a Christian warrior; but I may say here, all alone by myself,
that you are little better than so many men from the town shooting at
robins in the orchards. That was well meant," throwing back his head,
as a rifle bullet cut a lock of hair from his temple; "but the lead that
misses by