“No, no,” he said, rising himself despite the irritation it caused his wounds, and placing his mustached lips at Ewana’s ear. “The Manitou by other means than the knife will rid the red girl of her pale rival. I have become an outlaw; my people offer a price for my head, and Wacomet has said that he would lead me to them, or them to me. Cut these bonds; then, the bonds of the girl, too, and I will bear the girl away. Over in Canada, the lands of my king, I have strong people, and they will protect me from the white and red man-hunters. Let me carry the white girl from Wacomet’s cave, for if I don’t he will make her his bride.” For a moment the red girl was undecided how to act; above all things she wished to get rid of her white rival, yet she did not want to incur Wacomet’s hatred. She believed all the soldier had poured into her ears regarding her master’s love, yet she loved him as she had ever done since the days of childhood. “Haste!” cried Runnion, taking advantage of the girl’s indecision; “Wacomet may return, and then what becomes of poor Ewana! Shall she live to see a white snake steal Wacomet’s smiles from her? I thought Ewana was a Shawnee.” The glistening knife descended, and the bonds that bound the major’s feet fell apart! Casting a thankful look into the girl’s face he sprung to his feet. No time was to be lost, for it was now near dawn, and Wacomet was liable to return at any moment. He stepped to Effie’s couch, and touched her arm. She opened her eyes with a start, and for a moment did not comprehend her situation. “Girl, it is I,” he said. “We must leave at once. Ewana believes that Wacomet loves you--that he intends to murder her and make you his bride. See! she whets her already keen knife upon a stone. I have succeeded in freeing myself, and, girl, we must fly at once. Better in the forest, though it swarm with dangers, than in the power of a jealous squaw. Come!” Mechanically the young girl yielded; while, obedient to the instructions of the soldier, Ewana did not notice their movements. The soldier supplied himself with hunting accouterments, a quantity of ammunition; then they glided into the gloomy corridor, and out into the recesses of the forest. “Whither are we going?” asked Effie. The Briton turned suddenly upon her, and a faint smile played with his sensual lips as he answered: “I might as well tell you first as last,” he said. “We’re bound for Canada.” Effie could not repress the light cry that welled to her lips, and the word that followed was hissed forth with all the bitterness she could summon: “Villain!” CHAPTER XIII. WACOMET’S DEATH-SONG. The Briton had not escaped any too soon, for, ere a half-hour had passed, the Ottawa’s form darkened the opening. Advancing hurriedly to the chamber he paused, his face contorted with sudden passion. Then a half-howl, half-shriek burst from his lips.