as revenge and the
capture of Miss Hatherton. Mackenzie chose this spot so that he could
drive us over the falls. No doubt he intended to kill all of us but the
girl."

By this time Mrs. Gummidge was sitting up, and the color was returning
to her cheeks. Baptiste set to work with flint and steel to light a
fire, and meanwhile Gummidge and I waded through the shallows to the
opposite side of the stream. To our surprise, we found Moralle lying
unconscious, but breathing. He had two ugly tomahawk wounds on the head
and shoulder, but I judged that he had a fighting chance for life.
Gardapie had gone to the bottom above the falls, and doubtless Lavigne's
body had been sucked into one of the deep holes below, for we
could find no trace of it.

We called Baptiste over, and he helped to carry poor Moralle back. We
put him down by the fire, which was blazing cheerily, and Gummidge
started to dress his wounds. Flora was standing alongside the flames.
She was shivering with cold, and her face looked blue and pinched. I
made her swallow some brandy--I had a flask in my pocket--and the fiery
liquor warmed her at once.

"Denzil, was Cuthbert Mackenzie with the Indians?" she asked.

"Yes," I admitted.

"We have not seen the last of him!" she cried. "He will come back."

"I only wish he would," I replied. "But don't be alarmed. You are quite
safe. We shall soon be at the fort."

"The fort!" she murmured. "Then we are near it?"

"Very near," said I. "It will be a couple of hours' tramp, and then--"

I was interrupted by a shout from Gummidge and Baptiste. Hearty cheers
answered them, and when I looked around I saw four men, with a big canoe
on their shoulders, coming up the shore at a trot. And the foremost of
them was the factor of Fort Royal.

Flora divined the truth instantly, and all her self-control could not
prevent an agitated heaving of her bosom and a sudden pallor of the
cheeks.

"Oh, Denzil, is it--" she began.

"Yes; it is Griffith Hawke," I broke in savagely.

"Be brave!" she whispered. "Our paths lie apart--do not make it harder
for me."

Our eyes met in a look that spoke volumes, and then there was a sudden
uproar as the factor and his companions joined our party. I heard my
name called and soon Griffith Hawke's hand was locked in mine and he was
pouring out a torrent of eager words.

"And is this Miss Hatherton, my boy?" he asked suddenly.

I introduced him briefly and he made her a low and respectfu