pital fun, and enthusiastically
promised their assistance. Each one selected his particular antipathy to
thrash, though all showed a marked preference for Viggo, whom, however,
for reason of politeness, they were obliged to leave to the chief. Only
one boy sat silent, and made no offer to thrash anybody, and that was
Marcus Henning.

"Well, Muskrat," cried Halvor Reitan, "whom are you going to take on
your conscience?"

"No one," said Marcus.

"Put the Muskrat in your pocket, Halvor," suggested one of the boys; "he
is so small, and he has got such a hard bullet head, you might use him
as a club."

"Well, one thing is sure," shouted Halvor, as a dark suspicion shot
through his brain, "if you don't keep mum, you will be a mighty sick
coon the day after to-morrow."

Marcus made no reply, but got up quietly, pulled a rubber sling from
his pocket, and began, with the most indifferent manner in the world,
to shoot stones down the river. He managed during this exercise, which
everybody found perfectly natural, to get out of the crowd, and, without
seeming to have any purpose whatever, he continued to put a couple of
hundred yards between himself and his companion.

"Look a-here, Muskrat," he heard Halvor cry, "you promised to keep mum."

Marcus, instead of answering, took to his heels and ran.

"Boys, the scoundrel is going to betray us!" screamed the chief. "Now
come, boys! We've got to catch him, dead or alive."

A volley of stones, big and little, was hurled after the fugitive, who
now realizing his position ran for dear life. The stones hailed down
round about him; occasionally one vicious missile would whiz past his
ear, and send a cold shudder through him. The tramp of his pursuers
sounded nearer and nearer, and his one chance of escape was to throw
himself into the only boat, which he saw on this side of the river, and
push out into the stream before he was overtaken.

He had his doubts as to whether he could accomplish this, for the blood
rushed and roared in his ears, the hill-side billowed under his feet,
and it seemed as if the trees were all running a race in the opposite
direction, in order to betray him to his enemies.

A stone gave him a thump in the back, but though he felt a gradual heat
spreading from the spot which it hit, he was conscious of no pain.

Presently a larger missile struck him in the neck, and he heard a
breathless snorting close behind him. That was the end; he gave himself
up fo