he
scarlet coats of the regiment."

"Sandy!" called out the woman frantically; "why d'ye no' care for
yoursal', Sandy? Come hither the instant, man, and share your wife's
fortunes in weal or woe. It's no' a moment for your silly discipline and
vain-glorious notions of honor! Sandy! Sandy!"

Mabel heard the bar turn, and then the door creaked on its hinges.
Expectation, not to say terror, held her in suspense at the loop, and
she soon beheld Jennie rushing through the bushes in the direction of
the cluster of the dead. It took the woman but an instant to reach the
fatal spot. So sudden and unexpected had been the blow, that she in
her terror did not appear to comprehend its weight. Some wild and
half-frantic notion of a deception troubled her fancy, and she imagined
that the men were trifling with her fears. She took her husband's hand,
and it was still warm, while she thought a covert smile was struggling
on his lip.

"Why will ye fool life away, Sandy?" she cried, pulling at the arm.
"Ye'll all be murdered by these accursed Indians, and you no' takin'
to the block like trusty soldiers! Awa'! awa'! and no' be losing the
precious moments."

In her desperate efforts, the woman pulled the body of her husband in
a way to cause the head to turn completely over, when the small hole in
the temple, caused by the entrance of a rifle bullet, and a few drops
of blood trickling over the skin, revealed the meaning of her husband's
silence. As the horrid truth flashed in its full extent on her mind, the
woman clasped her hands, gave a shriek that pierced the glades of
every island near, and fell at length on the dead body of the soldier.
Thrilling, heartreaching, appalling as was that shriek, it was melody to
the cry that followed it so quickly as to blend the sounds. The terrific
war-whoop arose out of the covers of the island, and some twenty
savages, horrible in their paint and the other devices of Indian
ingenuity, rushed forward, eager to secure the coveted scalps. Arrowhead
was foremost, and it was his tomahawk that brained the insensible
Jennie; and her reeking hair was hanging at his girdle as a trophy
in less than two minutes after she had quitted the blockhouse. His
companions were equally active, and M'Nab and his soldiers no longer
presented the quiet aspect of men who slumbered. They were left in their
gore, unequivocally butchered corpses.

All this passed in much less time than has been required to relate
it, an