Leaping from rotting stump to decaying log, the borderer found himself committed to a precarious pathway. Often his foot found a transient resting-place only to leave black water behind as it was lifted. Sluggish snakes were disturbed by his passing and swam across slimy pools. “Awi-Usdi!” Now the voice was filled with despair. Springing to a long tree-trunk, inches deep in its pile of vivid green mould, Sevier ran to the end and parted the bushes. For a moment he was astounded by the spectacle he beheld. An Indian face was floating on the water, the painted features registering all the horrible anticipation of a hideous death. Placing his rifle one side, Sevier manœuvred gingerly until he could reach down and grasp the scalp-lock. Although he could lift the head a trifle and easily drew the submerged body close to the log, he was unable to lift the man from the slime. “What’s holding you down?” he demanded as a brown arm came from the dark water and clutched frenziedly at his wrist. “Awi-Usdi heard my prayer! He sent you!” gasped the Indian. “What’s holding you down?” angrily demanded Sevier. “My feet are caught in the roots of a water-soaked stump,” groaned the warrior. “Let go my wrist. I’ll get you out if you do as I say.” Staring up into the bronzed face with a strange light in his eyes, the Indian released his hold, whereat Sevier dropped in a sitting posture on the end of the log and extended a foot before the imprisoned savage could sink. The hand caught the foot, and as hope brought intelligence the warrior did not make the mistake of pulling his rescuer into the death-trap. Supporting him with his foot, the borderer gathered the tops of several bushes into a bunch and forced them down until the Indian could grasp them. “Now don’t waste your strength,” quietly commanded Sevier as he slipped off his shirt and bent down a small sapling which he held with his left hand. “You have an ax in your belt?” The Indian nodded vigorously. Supporting himself by the sapling, Sevier grimaced and dropped into the slime beside the Indian. He had no trouble in securing the ax, but he grunted loudly in disgust as he shifted his hold on the bowed sapling and allowed his body to sink beneath the stagnant water. He remained long enough to locate one of the imprisoned feet, then pulled himself above the filthy surface. Filling his lungs, he drew the ax from his belt and again descended. He worked cautiously to avoid chopping the foot and after delivering three or four blows was compelled to rise again. For thirty minutes he repeated the manœuvre, scoring nothing on some trips down, feeling the blade bite deep into the tenacious root at other times. At last the Indian gave a yelp of joy and kicked one foot free. The release of the other foot was quickly effected as the Indian managed to use the liberated member as a lever. As the two bedraggled men sat on the log, puffing for breath and staring at each other, Sevier smiled and greeted—