It was like a dream to Frank, and he looked up at that face, which was now filled with an expression of agony, as the girl’s lips moved, and he heard her whisper: “My hero! my hero! Did I save you from the powder-keg only to see you killed like this?” It was still a dream, but these words suddenly changed the scene, and he was transported to the depths of a deep forest, far away in Maine, close to the Canadian border. He saw himself helpless and bound fast to a keg of powder in a deserted hut, while two brutal men hurried out by the open door, one of them pausing and turning back long enough to say: “In one minute the fuse’ll reach the powder! Good-by!” Behind him he heard a spluttering, hissing sound, while over his shoulder rose a mass of smoke. He could turn his head and see the burning end of a lighted fuse that ran down into the keg. Those men had tied him there and lighted that fuse, their intention being to blow him into eternity. He knew their murderous purpose would be accomplished the moment the fire reached the powder. Outside, the forest was dark and grim, but he could see the sunshine sifting through the trees, and to his ears came the chattering bark of a squirrel. Life was very sweet to him, a mere boy on the brink of eternity, but he could make no move to save himself. He tried to reach the fuse with his teeth, but in vain, and his horror was unspeakable as he saw the gleaming speck of fire swiftly eating its way along the smoking fuse. Even now, in his dream of that time, the feeling of horror again seized upon him and benumbed his entire body. There alone, far from his comrades and the friends he loved, was he to meet such a terrible death? A prayer rose to his lips, for he knew that in a few more moments no human hand could save him. “God help me!” he breathed. But he did not cry aloud and shriek, for he believed himself far from human beings who could hear and render aid, and he would not give his enemies the satisfaction of hearing him express fear. If die he must, he would die bravely. Then, outside the window, sounded a footstep. Then, at the broken window, appeared the face of this girl. Instantly she seemed to understand his peril. In her hand she had a revolver. There was no time to run round the corner and enter the hut, for now the burning end of the fuse protruded hardly more than an inch from the hole in the keg. And so, quick as a flash, she had lifted the revolver and fired into that room. That shot saved Frank’s life, for the bullet cut the fuse and the burning end died out and did no harm. Then she came running into the hut and released him with a few swift slashes of a gleaming knife. He was weak and numb, but her strong hands lifted him to his feet and she urged him from the hut, telling him that the shot must be heard by the two men, one of whom was her own father, while the other was a despised suitor for her hand.