n with the current for a moment, while the roar of
the falls swelled louder. Our loaded muskets were in our grasp, but we
dared not expose our heads above the gunwales.

I looked back toward the stern, and saw Moralle tying a bandage on
Lavigne's wounded arm. Gummidge was bareheaded, and he told me
that a ball had carried his cap into the river.

"We're not done with the red devils," he added. "It's a bad scrape,
Carew. I've no doubt the Indians have been won over by the Northwest
people, and hostilities have already begun."

On that point I did not agree with him, but I was unwilling to speak
what was in my mind while Flora was listening. We were between two
perils, and I called out to Moralle for his opinion.

"If the redskins are in any force it will be impossible to land and make
the portage," I said. "We are within a quarter of a mile of the rapids
now. What are the chances of running them safely?"

"I have taken a canoe through them twice," replied Moralle, "and I could
do it again. That is, provided I can paddle and look where I am going.
Shall I try it, sir?"

"No, not yet; wait a little," I answered.

"I don't like this silence," exclaimed Gummidge. "Why did the redskins
stop firing so suddenly? Mark my word, Carew, there's a piece of
deviltry brewing. I'm afraid not one of us will--"

I stopped him by a gesture, and spoke a few comforting words to Flora;
her face was very white, but beyond that she showed no trace of fear.
Then I crept a little past Baptiste, and with the point of my knife I
hurriedly made two small holes below the gunwales of the canoe, one on
each side. I peeped through both in turn, and the curve of the bow gave
me as clear a view ahead as I could have wished.

What I saw partly explained the meaning of the brief silence--scarcely
more than a minute had elapsed since the musket volley. Here and there,
in the leafy woods to right and left I caught a glimpse of dusky,
swiftly moving bodies. We were close upon the falls, and but for the
noise of the tumbling waters I could have heard the scurrying feet of
our determined foes.

"What do you make out?" Gummidge whispered.

"The Indians are running ahead of us through the forest," I replied.
"They expect that we will try the portage, and then they will have us in
a trap. Our only chance is to dash down the rapids."

"It's a mighty poor one," murmured Gummidge; and as he spoke I heard an
hysterical sob from his wife.

"We are not g