ehind the rocks and advanced toward them, assuring
them that any effort to escape, or resist would result in instant death.

"I have you at last, murderer!" cried Martin, seizing Henry Waters.

"No, you mistake----" began Charles; but Henry Waters signed him to keep
quiet. The Waters brothers, as the reader is aware, were twins and
looked so much alike, that it was difficult to distinguish one from the
other.

Charles was not slow to grasp at the idea of Henry Waters. He would
suffer himself to be taken to Virginia in his brother's stead, where he
would make his identity known and establish an alibi; but there was
danger of the revengeful Martin killing his prisoner before he reached
Virginia, and Charles said:

"Will you promise, on your honor as a Virginian, not to harm the
prisoner until he reaches a court of justice?"

The Virginian gave his promise, and then the three led Mr. Waters
hurriedly away, mounted horses, hastened to Boston and took a vessel for
Virginia.

Charles Stevens went to Mr. George Waters and told him what had
happened. Mr. Waters' face grew troubled; but he said nothing.

That night there was an alarm of savages in the neighborhood and Charles
Stevens and Mr. Waters went with a train-band to meet the foe. In a
skirmish, Mr. Waters was wounded, and it was thought best for him to go
to Boston for medical treatment.

"I have friends and relatives there," Charles said, "and we might be
safe."

Next day the four secretly set out for Boston, where they lodged for
awhile with some relatives of Charles and his mother, who kept their
presence a secret.

Before concluding this chapter, it is the duty of the author, although
stepping aside from the narrative, to relate what befell their brave
friends, the Dustins, during the progress of King William's war. The
atrocities committed upon the colonists by the French and Indians were
equal to any recorded in the annals of barbarous ages. Connected with
these were instances of heroic valor on the part of the heroic
sufferers, which are not surpassed. On March 15th, 1697, the last year
of King William's war, an attack was suddenly made on Haverhill by a
party of about twenty Indians. It was a rapid, but fatal onset, and a
fitting _finale_ of so dreadful a ten years' war. Eight houses were
destroyed, twenty-seven persons killed, and thirteen carried away
prisoners. One of these houses, standing in the outskirts of the village
and, in fact, over the hi