oing quite straight," I called to Moralle. "If we keep on
this course we will hit the rocks. A few strokes to the left--"

"I'll manage that, sir," the plucky voyageur interrupted.

I glanced over my shoulder, and saw him rise to his knees and begin to
paddle. He was not fired on, as I had expected would be the case, so
Baptiste and I ventured to lift our heads. As we watched, we held our
muskets ready for the shoulder.

The current was bearing us on swiftly. A short distance below, the
river narrowed to a couple of hundred feet, and here stretched the
line of half-sunken rocks that marked the beginning of the falls. In the
very center was a break several yards wide, and straight for this the
canoe was now driving. There was no sign of the enemy, and it was
difficult to realize that such a deadly peril awaited us.

Bang went a musket, and a puff of bluish smoke curled from the forest on
the left. The ball passed over Moralle's head; he ceased paddling and
dropped under cover. Baptiste did the same, but I kept my head up,
looking for a chance to return the shot. My attention had just been
attracted by a movement between the trees, when Gummidge cried,
hoarsely:

"Keep down, Miss Hatherton! That was a mad thing to do!"

I turned around sharply as Gummidge released his hold of Flora, who, I
judged, had been exposing herself recklessly. I was startled by her
appearance. She looked at me with frightened eyes and parted lips, with
a face the hue of ashes.

"Save me!" she gasped. "I saw him! I saw him!"

"Saw who?" I cried.

"Cuthbert Mackenzie! I am sure it was he, Denzil!" And she pointed to
the right.

I looked hard in that direction, scanning the woods right and left. By
Heavens, the girl had not been mistaken. Through a rift in the foliage,
nearly opposite the canoe, peered a swarthy, sinister countenance and I
recognized the features of Cuthbert Mackenzie. I took aim at him, but
before I could fire he was gone. My brain seemed in a whirl. I had found
the clew--the fiendish clew--to the attack that threatened to cost us
our lives. Bent on revenge, Mackenzie had traveled up country to
intercept us on the way to the fort--to kill me, and to capture Flora.
He had bribed the savages to help him, and he and his ruthless allies
had been in the vicinity of our camp on the previous night.

Swiftly these things coursed through my mind. I tried to speak to Flora,
but my tongue seemed to be held fast. I heard a shot--an