“Didn’t you hear a movement below?” “In the hold?” “Yes.” “Ah--_then_ I did--_one of them is not dead_!” The young settler took up one of the fallen savages’ tomahawks, and advanced softly toward the hatchway, saying to Rollo in a whisper: “It is the savage that lives, else Old Tumult would have answered me. The red demon is waiting for a chance to spring out and murder me. I will watch for him here.” “It may not be,” said Rollo. “Time will soon tell.” The two became silent, and listened and watched. An awful anxiety came upon them. One of the combatants _was_ alive. They could hear him dragging himself through the water toward the opening. My readers can better imagine the awful suspense of the two young men than I can describe it. A moment seemed an hour. They were sure they could hear their own hearts beating and feel the hot blood leaping through their veins. Their eyes, almost starting from their sockets, became fixed upon the opening. Suddenly a shadow appeared within it. Something arose in the young men’s throats that seemed to choke them. Slowly, quite slowly, the shadow was followed by a tuft of dark hair, the shaven skull, the low, dark brow, the glaring eyes, the painted, lacerated face of _the savage giant_! CHAPTER XI. THE RESULT OF THE FIGHT. A chill of horror crept over the frame of Town. Farnesworth as he saw the bloody face and lacerated shoulders of the savage appear slowly from the hatchway. He shrunk back from the hideous form as from an apparition. The face of the savage wore a ghastly expression--the eyeballs protruded from their sockets till they rested upon the cheeks--the jaws stood apart and the tongue protruded from the mouth, which was filled with blood and foam. Clutching the tomahawk in a firmer grasp, Town. advanced toward the savage; but, at the same instant, the form of the giant warrior shot out of the hold and fell limp and motionless in death upon the deck. Then, up through the hatchway, popped the head and shoulders of Old Tumult, the picture of dolefulness and woe, his face convulsed and his sides shaking in a roar of triumphant laughter. After all he had proved the victor, and had pushed the body of his fallen enemy through the hatchway in order to work a surprise upon his two friends, who, he learned from their conversation, had come out victors with the savages above. But, the old scout bore many a mark of the conflict. His face and neck were fearfully lacerated, and the few locks of yellow hair that were permitted to remain on his head, clung about his face and neck wet and sadly. His clothes were nearly all torn from his body, and his back bore many a red furrow where the sharp nails of the giant had plowed. Town. stood speechless with happy disappointment. Something like a scowl passed over Rollo’s face. Old Tumult was the first to speak: