is throat and other
parts of his person. That they were strong hands he felt; that they
belonged to big strong savages he had every reason to believe--though it
was too dark to see--and that scalping-knives and tomahawks were handy
to them he knew to be highly probable. He therefore promptly made up
his mind as to his course of action, and at once began to play his part.
Making a very feeble resistance--just enough, in short, to deceive--he
begged for mercy in soft, rather tremulous and very abject tones. True,
his language was English--at least that sort of English to which the
mountaineers of Scotland are addicted--but he trusted to the tone and
manner of his speech, not to the sense, which Saulteaux, he knew, could
not be expected to understand.

"Oh! then, don't be hard on me. Don't kill me, goot shentlemen," he
whined. "It iss a poor worthless thing I am--whatever!"

These remarks, and a few similar appeals for mercy, were accompanied
with many dismal groans, as his captors were dragging him up the bank of
the stream. Pausing for a moment, one of them produced a cord, with
which they proceeded to bind their cowardly and unresisting prisoner.

Whether the Indians were deceived by their victim's tones and manner,
and the soft condition of his carefully relaxed muscles, we cannot tell,
but it seemed as if such were the case, for some of the brief remarks
made by his captors had in them a smack of undisguised contempt, and
when the cord was being put round his arms he felt that the grip of his
captors was slightly relaxed.

Now or never was his chance! Hurling the men on either side of him
right and left, he delivered two random blows in front, one of which
happily took effect on a savage chest, the other on a savage nose, and
cleared the way in that direction. With a bound like that of one of his
own mountain deer, he cleared the bank, and plunged into the river.

In ordinary circumstances an attempt of this kind would have been worse
than useless, for the Indians would not only have jumped into their
canoes and overtaken the fugitive, but some of them would have run down
the bank of the stream to prevent a landing. Some such attempt was
indeed made on the present occasion, but the intense darkness was in
favour of Fergus, and the searching canoes only ran into each other,
while the searchers on land were still more at a disadvantage.

Now, Fergus McKay was as much at home in water as an otter or a
musk