There they waited the return of the party down stream while they listened to Hunter Tom's cursory narrative of the battle and the chief events. He told how they were surprised, but not for what purpose they had journeyed to that locality; how the pilot fought and slew a couple of the foe and afterward, rushing into the flood to reach the canoe, was shot down by an Indian bullet; how Dick, "the giant," as he was sometimes called by the settlers, towered a head and shoulders o'er the enemy. "I'll wager he knocked them down like nine-pins," said Professor Bill Banks. "Aye," said the hunter, "he did that; he handled his rifle like a farmer's flail, and every time he struck he threshed their top-knots out. Then, when I caught up the lad in yonder and took him back to the canoe, he cleared a wider circle for himself and leaped like a kangaroo toward shore." "And they didn't dare stop him?" asked one. "Not they? They couldn't. Aye, there were two fellows, one a stout one, good-sized, that did hedge in to cut him off, but one was shot down and the other----" The old man allowed his weather-beaten face to relax into a grim smile of humour as the scene arose before him in mind. "And the other?" "Well, the other come too nigh to Mr. Dick's big fist, and he went down in a heap with the most astonishing look on his countenance that I ever saw on the face of any one. It makes me smile now when I think of it. Then Mr. Dick came leaping and pushing through the water. I had pushed out a little from shore and had my knife ready to cut the rope as soon as he could reach the canoe, when a hailstorm of bullets skipped across the water and Dick plunged under and I saw him no more. The rest of the tale you know." The narrative was finished, but it was noticed by several that the old hunter spoke very little of his own achievements in that battle. And yet they knew that he had not been idle. "And did Mr. Ande do much fighting?" asked Professor Bill. "Fighting? Aye, he fought like an old Indian fighter. In all my experience with Indians, I have come across none who put up a braver battle than the young lion cub in yonder; aye, and fighting wounded at that, for he carries a wound in the chest that would have killed an ordinary man, and a wound in the leg, and another in the arm that would have made many a stout heart give in, but he fought on until he received that blow on the head that rendered him unconscious. Brave--very brave." "And how about yourself, Tom?" asked one of the settlers. "Oh, I killed a few," said the old hunter, simply. There was a shout from down the creek trail, and the sound of horses' hoofs, and proceeding as rapidly as possible over the uncertain trail the band from down stream entered the clearing. "What news?" asked Professor Bill, rising from his recumbent position. "We found the pilot and he's living, but pretty badly hurt. He was pulled on a raft by the Pegleg pilot, and they put him off at a tavern further down stream."