At this moment, however, the last thought in her mind is any fear of danger. Her cast whirls in the air; the flies drop noiselessly into a bubbling eddy. There is a rush through the water and a splash. An eager light comes into the velvety blue eyes, fading as rapidly to give place to one of vexation as the cast, suddenly released from its tension, springs high overhead, describing many a fantastic gyration. "How sickening," she cries, with a little stamp of impatience. "How unutterably sickening! That _was_ a beauty, and I shan't rise another to-night. But--it's nearly dark. I must go back." What is that stealthy rustle in the depths of yonder scrub? For the first time the girl is conscious of a shade of nervousness as she hurriedly begins to take her rod to pieces. Her thoughts suggest the proximity of some hideous snake, or a panther perhaps. She turns towards where she left her pony. Can the gathering dusk be playing her tricks? The animal is not there. Though securely fastened, it has disappeared. But the sight which does meet her eyes roots her to the ground with horror. Stealing noiselessly towards her, in the dark shade of the timber, are three half-naked Indians--tall, athletic, hulking savages, hideously painted. They halt for a moment as they see themselves perceived. They are barely a dozen yards distant. "How, lily gal!" grunts the foremost, wreathing his repulsive face into a frightful grin, and advancing with outstretched hand. "How, lily gal! No 'fraid! Me good Injun, me. Ha, ha! Me good Injun brudder." The exultant mockery underlying this friendly address was too transparent. Her eyes dilating with horror, the girl stepped back, the consciousness that she was alone in the power of these fiends turning her limbs to stone. They, for their part, secure of their beautiful prize, were enjoying her terror. "No run 'way," said the first speaker, who had diminished the distance between them. "No run 'way. Injun, good brudder." And he seized her left wrist in the grasp of a vice--while another, with a fierce chuckling laugh, made a movement to seize her right one. But the brutal contact broke the spell of horror which was weaving around her. A wild cry of indignation escaped her lips, and her eyes blazed. Wrenching her right wrist free, she dashed the heavy butt end of her fishing-rod with all her force--and it was not small--full into the first assailant's face, knocking out some of his front teeth, and causing him to loosen his hold. With the fierce growl of a wounded cougar, the savage sprang at her again, the blood streaming from his mouth, and as the unhappy girl recoiled to renew her efforts to keep her persecutors at bay, such a marvellous change came over the scene that not one of the actors in it was quite aware what had happened.