"To rescue the fair Mary Matilda from the musquashes," replied the stranger. Then he seized the saw, and with pale face started in the direction Mary Matilda had gone. Meanwhile Mary Matilda had crossed the Nashwaaksis and was speeding in a southerly course toward the Nashwaak. The gentle breeze favored her progress, and as she sailed along, the snow danced like frozen feathers around her. "Oh, how nice!" cried little Bessie. "Yes, this clear, fresh, cold air gives one new life," said Mary Matilda. They now came to the Nashwaak, on the farther bank of which were crouched a pack of hungry musquashes eagerly awaiting the approach of Mary Matilda and little Bessie. "Hush," whispered the old big musquash. "Make no noise or they will hear us and make good their escape." But just then another musquash carelessly trod on the big musquash's tail and the old musquash roared with pain. "What was that?" cried little Bessie. Mary Matilda had heard the strange cry. She paused to listen. Then she saw the pack of musquashes in the snow on the farthest bank of the Nashwaak. Oh, how frightened she was! but with a shrill cry she seized Bessie in her arms, and, turning swiftly about, fled in the direction of McLeod hill. The musquashes saw her retreating, and with a howl of commingled rage and disappointment they started in hot pursuit. They ran like mad, as only starving musquashes can run. Every moment they gained on the maiden and her human charge until at last they were at her very heels. Mary Matilda remembered she had some beechnuts in her pocket. She reached down, grasped a handful of the succulent fruit and cast it to her insatiate pursuers. It stayed their pursuit for a moment, but in another moment they were on her track again, howling demoniacally. Another handful of the beechnuts went to the ravenous horde, and still another. By this time Mary Matilda had reached McLeod hill and was crossing the Nashwaaksis. Her imagination pictured a scuttled brigantine lying in the frozen stream. On its slippery deck stood a pirate, waving a gory cutlass. [Illustration: THE PRINCE'S COAT-OF-ARMS--FLIGHT OF THE FAIR MARY MATILDA--THE AGGRAVATING MIRAGE.] "Ha, ha, ho, ho!" laughed the gory and bearded pirate. "Save me!" cried Mary Matilda. "My beechnuts are all gone!" "Throw them the baby!" answered the bearded pirate, "and save yourself! Ha, ha, ho, ho!" Should she do it? Should she throw little Bessie to the devouring musquashes? No, she could not stoop to that ungenerous deed. "No, base pirate!" she cried. "I would not so demean myself!"