the water gate, all could see the approaching boats
as, in long-extended line and with flashing oars, one after another
rounded the last wooded point and advanced slowly up the river.

From the stern of the foremost boat flew the red flag of England. As
it drew near, cheer after cheer broke from the excited garrison, while
from the rampart above them a loud-voiced cannon boomed forth it
assurance that the fort still held out.

Alas, for the high hopes of the stout defenders! Their joy was quickly
quenched; for when the long column of eighteen boats was in full view,
and the rejoicing was at its height, dark, naked figures suddenly
leaped up, with brandished weapons and exulting yells, in every boat.
The fierce war-whoop came quavering over the water, and in a moment the
dreadful truth was known. The entire convoy had been captured, and was
in the enemy's hands.

As the mournful procession of boats moved past, though well over toward
the opposite bank of the river, the disheartened garrison saw that each
was rowed by two or more white captives, who were guarded and forced to
their labor by armed savages. As the heavy-hearted spectators were
about to turn away from this distressing sight, a thrilling incident
absorbed their attention, and held them spellbound.

The last boat contained four white men and but three Indians. One of
the former was Donald Hester, and he it was who steered. Although he
had been well treated by his captors, after the mystic marking on his
arm to which the Zebra attracted their attention had saved him from an
awful death, he was still held a close prisoner, and was still
uncertain as to the fate reserved for him. This, however, concerned
him little. Nothing could be worse than the mental suffering he had
already undergone, and his present anxiety was only for his sister
Edith. What had become of her? Where was she, and by what perils was
she surrounded? He became frantic as he reflected upon her
helplessness and the restraints that prevented him from flying to her
assistance. He had learned from his fellow-captives that nothing had
been seen of her nor of her companion after the attack on Cuyler's
camp, and also that two boats, containing many fugitives, had effected
an escape. She must then be in one of those, and if she were, what
might she not be suffering, without food or shelter, and liable at any
moment to fall into the hands of some roving band of savages? For her
sake, h