ompanions, their fate was surely sealed.

What could he do? Time was precious, for daylight could not be far
off. Beyond this point he had formed no plan. He had hoped to find
both the tunnel and its contents but an ingenious fiction to frighten
Christie into a surrender. Now it was a startling and overwhelming
truth. He could not remove the powder by the way he had come. In
fact, he doubted if he could effect his own escape that way, so thickly
were the sleeping savages dispersed about the entrance to the tunnel.
In this predicament, and with the intensity of his thinking, great
beads of perspiration started to his forehead, and he clenched his
hands until they ached.

The mine was all ready for firing. He knew this by discovering that
one of the powder kegs was open, and by finding the end of a rudely
made fuse buried in its contents. Who had taught the Indians this
diabolical trick of warfare? Never before had they been known to
prepare a mine. They must have been instructed by some white man, and
one possessed of military knowledge. All at once Donald recalled the
voice that had demanded the surrender of the blockhouse. Certainly, no
Indian ever spoke English like that. Had there not been a familiar
ring to the tones? It seemed so now, though he had been too intent on
other thoughts to notice it at the time. Still he was not sure, the
impression was too slight.

All these things flashed through Donald's mind in a moment, while his
hands were feeling out the exact condition of the mine. How long was
that fuse? He traced it backward as its evil length stretched along
the bottom of the tunnel. It led to the angle, and there he again
encountered the fragments of burned wood. At one side the tunnel
widened, and here its wall was entirely composed of this material.
Where could it have come from? It was freshly charred. The Indians
would never have brought it there and piled it in that confusion. It
must have fallen from above! There must be an opening! If there only
was, he would know just what to do. There would be no difficulty then
about forming a plan.

With eager haste Donald began pulling away the burned ends of timbers
and logs. He had hardly begun before the whole mass gave way, and slid
down on him. Fortunately, there was not much of it, and, though he was
nearly smothered by dust and ashes, he quickly scrambled from the
debris, and listened with loudly beating heart. He realized t