h the fellow-feeling which was so strong among the pioneers of the
Tennessee Valley that it would induce two men at parting, having but one
knife between them, to break and share the blade, to divide the powder
that meant life in that wild country equally to the last grain. Hamish
did not for one instant contemplate any other course. He rushed to
O'Flynn and sought to release him, but the flint of the arrow that had
gone through the heavy muscular tissues of the arm still stuck fast in
the strong fiber of the logs of the trap, and the blood was streaming,
and once more the wolf was angrily plunging against the side of the
pen. Suddenly the boy remembered the juvenile account of the scalping of
"Dill." Calling piteously to O'Flynn not to mind, if he could help it,
Hamish placed one firm foot against the straight back of the soldier,
and bracing himself with his left arm around a stanch young tree, he
pulled at the arrow with all his might. There was a ripping sound of
flesh, a human scream, a creak of riving wood, and Corporal O'Flynn lay
face downward on the ground, freed, but with the shaft still in his arm,
the blood spurting from it, and the wolf plunging and snarling unheeded
at the very hair of his head.

CHAPTER IX

With a great effort Hamish dragged O'Flynn, who was a heavy, muscular
fellow, out of the reach of the wolf. Fortunately there chanced to be a
spring branch near at hand, and the ice-cold water hurriedly dashed into
the corporal's face, together with an earnest reminder of the hideous
danger of death and torture by the Indians, and a sense of the
possibility of escape, served to sufficiently restore him to enable him
to get upon his feet, unsteadily enough, however, and with Hamish's help
make his way toward the fort at a pretty fair speed. He fainted after
they crossed the ditch, and the great gates closed. These two were the
last of the hunters who found rescue; the others who had straggled in
previously, reported having been fired upon by Indians, and that several
dead soldiers were left upon the ground.

The parade was a scene of wild turmoil, far different from its usual
orderly military aspect. The settlers and their families, alarmed at
last, had fled for refuge to the fort, bringing only a small portion of
their scanty possessions. Women were weeping in agitation and terror of
the dangers passed, and in despair because of the loss of their little
homes, which the Indians were even now