Nature here on every side unfolded panoramic views of loveliness. Flickers of light were reflected in the water; trailing vines festooned the trees. There were quiet marshes golden with swaying grasses, and, farther away, sombre masses of pine through which opened mysterious shadowy vistas. CHAPTER III. _AN IROQUOIS ATTACK._ DESPITE the beauty of the scene just described, Bibelot, the dog, was plainly dissatisfied with the existing order of things. She was a direct descendant of Pilot, one of a number of dogs sent from France to Ville Marie shortly after its foundation in order to assist the brave colonists in their warfare against the Indians. Detesting the savages by instinct, these trusty animals were invaluable in detecting ambuscades. Bibelot now ran here and there, her bushy tail raised high and curled like a feather over her back, her slender, alert head and bright eyes full of keen interest, sniffing among the grass and branches as though solicitous of some trail of fox or rabbit. Game abounded in the woods; from where she stood Diane could see a great herd of elk defile quietly between the water and the forest. The dog’s persistent uneasiness attracted Diane’s attention. Suddenly the long-drawn, melancholy cry of a water-fowl fell upon her ear. The sound might have passed unheeded by faculties less keen and highly strung; but as she started at the cry, Bibelot, throwing back her head and quivering all over with rage, uttered a low, deep growl. The call was repeated several times. Could it be a signal? The dog’s excitement seemed to warrant the supposition. As she gazed apprehensively about her, the trunk of a fallen tree, lying on the ground close at hand, seemed to Diane to stir. Was imagination playing her false? The girl had grown up amidst the constant dangers of the adventurous colonial life. She knew well that the Iroquois roamed through the deserted settlements and prowled continually around the forts. No one could account for the mysterious movements of these agile warriors, nor for the subtlety and malice of their stratagems. She now stood perfectly still as if she were a figure painted on the pale green background. The heart beat high in her breast, the color came and went in her cheek. A gray squirrel with small bright eyes scudded through the grass close beside her. At that instant the log moved again, this time with a hasty, impulsive jerk. There was no doubt but that in the hollow trunk an Indian lay concealed. Immediately the loud clamor of Bibelot’s bark rang out, clear and distinct. Quick as a gleam of light the forest was alive with shadowy figures moving stealthily and silently among the trees. Diane saw that her only chance of escape lay in immediate action, and that the lives of those in the fort might depend upon her presence of mind. She understood but too well the nameless horrors which captivity among the savages