ted to the assistance of his imperilled sister
with a recklessness that disregarded all the traditions of woodcraft,
he came to his senses as he drew near the scene of recent conflict, and
thereafter no forest warrior could have proceeded with greater stealth
than he.

The short fight was over, the prisoners were secured, many fires had
been lighted, and the deadly work of the fire-water was already begun.
With a heavy heart and a sickening dread, the young soldier crept
noiselessly from one lighted circle to another, narrowly escaping
discovery a dozen times, and scanning anxiously each dejected group of
captives. All were men, nor could he anywhere catch a glimpse of
feminine draperies. At one place he saw a confused group, of what he
fancied might be captives, on the opposite side of a fire-lighted
opening, and made a great circuit through the woods in order to
approach it more closely.

Suddenly there arose a clamor of voices, and, as though aware of his
presence, a score of savages, some of them holding aloft blazing
firebrands, came running through the forest directly toward him. There
was no time for flight, and he could only fling himself flat beside the
trunk of a prostrate tree, up to which he had just crawled, ere they
were upon him. A dozen warriors passed him, leaping over both the log
and the crouching figure behind it. He was beginning to cherish a hope
that all might do so; but such good fortune was not to be his.
Another, who bore a flaming brand, slipped as he bounded over the
obstruction. A shower of blazing embers fell on Donald's head and bare
neck. Maddened by pain, he sprang to his feet, dealt the stumbling
savage a blow that knocked him flat, and turned to fly for his life.
As he did so, he was grappled by two others, and though he struggled so
furiously that he managed to fling them both from him, the delay was
fatal. A moment later he was borne to the earth by overwhelming
numbers.

When again allowed to rise it was as a pinioned prisoner, bruised and
breathless. With exulting shouts, his captors dragged him into the
circle of firelight, and when they saw that he was not one of Cuyler's
men, but a newcomer, they were extravagant in their joy. They were
also furious against him on account of the escape of the women
captives, in which it was supposed he had been instrumental.
Half-crazed with drink as they were, they determined that he should pay
the penalty for this offence then an