ndians rose, all listening. Far away a sound grew in the
night--the dull blows of horses' hoofs on sod; a shot rang faintly, a
distant cry was echoed by a long-drawn yell and a volley.

The renegade officer came running back, calling out, "McCraw has struck
the Legion at the grist-mill!" In the intense silence around me the
noise of the conflict grew, increasing, then became fainter and fainter
until it died out to the westward and all was still.

The Indians came crowding back from the edge of the grove, shoving
through the circle of those who guarded me, pushing, pressing, surging
around me.

"Give him to us!" they muttered, under their breath. "The flag has not
come; they will hang your Walter Butler! Give him to us! The Legion
cavalry is driving your riders into the west! Give him to us! We wish to
see how the Oriskany man can die!"

Dragged, pulled from one to another, I scarcely felt their clutch; I
scarcely felt the furtive blows that fell on me. The officer clung to
me, fighting the savages back with fist and elbow.

"Wait for McCraw!" he panted. "The flag may come yet, you fools! Would
you murder him and lose Walter Butler forever? Wait till McCraw comes, I
tell you!"

"McCraw is riding for his life!" said a chief, fiercely.

"It's a lie!" said the officer; "he is drawing them to ambush!"

"Give the prisoner to us!" cried the savages, closing in. "After all,
what do we care for your Walter Butler!" And again they rushed forward
with a shout.

Twice the officer drove them back with kicks and blows, cursing their
treachery in McCraw's absence; then, as they drew their knives,
clamoring, threatening, gathering for a last rush, into their midst
bounded an unearthly shape--a squat and hideous figure, fluttering with
scarlet rags. Arms akimbo, the thing planted itself before me, mouthing
and slavering in fury.

"The Toad-woman! Catrine Montour! The Toad-witch!" groaned the Senecas,
shrinking back, huddling together as the hag whirled about and
pointed at them.

"I want him! I want him! Give him to me!" yelped the Toad-woman.
"Fools! Do you know where you are? Do you know this grove of
maple-trees?"

The Indians, amazed and cowed, slunk farther back. The hag fixed her
blazing eyes on them and raised her arms.

"Fools! Fools!" she mouthed, "what madness brought you here to this
grove?--to this place where the Stonish Giants have returned, riding out
of Biskoona!"

A groan burst from the Indians; a ch