nce he
nearly succeeded, but almost upset his little bark. He told her to cling
tightly to his hair, as he shoved the paddle over her head, and at last
he got the canoe to move slowly ahead, and in a few minutes time he was
at the side of the sloop, and the mother and child were rescued from a
watery grave. The Indian would not go on board, and as soon as he saw
that the mother and child were likely to recover, he pulled away to the
shore.

The child soon recovered, but the mother lay upon the deck for some time
in a half unconscious state. At times a quiet happiness seemed singing
in her soul, that often broke into words of praise as the vessel drifted
along in the stillness. On the right and left slept the country with its
wooded hills and dales. As Margaret Godfrey recovered she said,
"Charles, we appear to be sleeping on to our destination." "Yes," he
said; "but perhaps that Indian has been watching and following us,
hiding among the trees along the shore; and as we have been going slowly
all day, he could with ease keep way with us. He may now consider us far
enough away from the fort to decoy and murder us, seize our vessel and
goods, and no suspicion rest upon him as the murderer and robber."

"It may be that he has accomplices on our track; a band of savages to
quietly dispose of us and seize our possessions." As he spoke these
words he appeared much more agitated than on the previous evening.
Margaret replied, "God's will be done! We must anchor at some point
to-night--Why not anchor here? At the earnest solicitation of his wife,
Captain Godfrey consented to run the sloop toward the shore and anchor.

After a lengthened discussion between the Captain and his wife upon the
question of keeping watch during the night, Margaret carried her point,
and soon after stood alone on the deck.

The reader, doubtless, will wonder why Margaret expressed so strong a
desire to keep watch through the long, lonely hours of darkness. Before
the conclusion of the story is reached, he will have found out the
reason.

Soon all was hushed, gross darkness had gathered over the face of
nature, and the eyes of the beloved on board were closed in sleep. At
about midnight Margaret was slightly startled at hearing a footstep on
deck. "Paul," she whispered, "is that you." "Me," he answered in a low,
soft tone. "Most Indians away, far up country after game, and not come
back few days."

Paul Guidon was a sub-chief, and one of the brav