youth
whom he had known so long, and it was his voice that begged and blessed.
And there, too, came the boat, not thirty yards from the land now! In two
more minutes it would be at the bank, and its decks were crowded now with
men, women, and children, regarding with curiosity and pity alike this
lone wanderer in the wilderness whom they had found in such a terrible
case. Paul heard around him a rustling like that of coiled snakes, the
slight movement of the savages preparing to spring. The boat was only ten
yards from the shore! Now the film passed away from his eyes, and his
dazed brain cleared. He sprang up to his full height, reckless of his own
life, and shouted in a voice that was heard far over the yellow waters:

"Keep off! Keep off, for your lives! It is a renegade who is calling you
into an ambush! Keep off! Keep off!"

Paul saw a sudden confusion on the boat, a running to and fro of people,
and a bucking of the sweeps. Then he heard a spatter of rifle shots, all
this passing in an instant, and the next moment he felt a heavy
concussion. Fire flashed before his eyes, and he sank away into a darkness
that quickly engulfed him.

When Paul came back to himself he was lying among the trees where he had
fallen, and his head ached violently. He started to put up his hand to
soothe it, but the hand would not move, and then he realized that both
hands were bound to his side. His whole memory came back in a flash, and
he looked toward the river. Far down the stream, and near the middle of
it, was a black dot that, even as he looked, became smaller, and
disappeared. It was the flatboat with its living freight, and Paul's
heart, despite his own desperate position, leaped up with joy.

From the river he glanced back at the Indian faces near him, and so far as
he could tell they bore no signs of triumph. Nor could he see any of those
hideous trophies they would have been sure to carry in case the ambush had
been a success. No! the triumph had been his, not theirs. He rolled into
an easier position, shut his eyes again to relieve his head, and when he
opened them once more, Braxton Wyatt stood beside him. At the sight, all
the wrath and indignation in Paul's indomitable nature flared up.

"You scoundrel! you awful scoundrel! You renegade!" he cried. "Don't you
ever speak to me again! Don't you come near me!"

Braxton Wyatt did not turn back when those words, surcharged with
passion, met him full in the face, but wore