A signal, and the hatchets crush through the skulls of the sleeping Indians, blow after blow in quick succession. It is the work of a minute, but in that brief time ten of the twelve Indians are killed; two only escape in the darkness. The prisoners--prisoners no longer--gather the provisions, take the guns of the Indians, and place them in a canoe. The thoughtful women, to prevent pursuit, quickly cut holes in all the other canoes and set them adrift. They take their seats in the remaining canoe, and push out into the stream. A thought comes. If they are spared to reach their home, will their friends believe their story? They will have evidence that can not be disputed. They paddle back to the island. Mrs. Dustin runs a knife around the scalp-locks of the dead Indians, and takes them from the skulls. They start once more in the darkness. They know that the river will bring them to their homes. The current bears them on. Soon they are amid the rapids at Pennacook, but the thought of home, of liberty, cools their brains and steadies their nerves. The intrepid women handle the paddles dexterously, steering clear of sunken rocks and dangerous whirlpools. They come to a space of clear water, and then to falls, around which they must carry the canoe. They are in danger of death by drowning, in danger of prowling savages, whose wigwams are still standing along the bank of the winding stream, but no Indian discovers them. With tireless energy they ply their paddles. Days pass. At last they sweep round a bend, and behold familiar scenes: they are once more at home, coming upon their sorrowing friends like apparitions from the dead. It is a marvellous story they have to tell of endurance, heroism, and victory. No one can doubt their words, for there are the scalps, evidence undoubtable. By every fireside the story of Hannah Dustin, Mary Neff, and Samuel Leonardson is narrated. Presents come to them--fifty pounds from the General Court of Massachusetts, and a rich present from the Governor of New York. A monument has been reared upon the spot where they obtained their freedom, commemorative of their endurance, resolution, and heroic action. THE ROVERINGS AT CONEY ISLAND. BY MATTHEW WHITE, JUN. The two Eds wanted to go very much. "I can learn to build forts in the sand, and then grow up to be a soldier," urged Edward. "And I might watch the men steer the boats, and by-and-by be ready to sail off somewheres on a ship, and bring back an India shawl," suggested Edgar, cunningly, and Mrs. Rovering decided at once that they should go. "By the boat?" cried Edgar. "No, by the cars," exclaimed Edward; and thereupon arose a discussion on the point, which lasted until Mr. Rovering came home to dinner, and said they could go by both. So on the next morning, which happened to be Saturday, the family set out, armed with an immense lunch basket, and shaded by huge straw hats.