The stalwart savage looked very stern and cruel as he approached Phil and Andy, recognizing them as the leaders of the intruders. He spoke in poor English, and his words were few. He gave them to understand that he knew they were enemies--being colonists--also, that their friends were the British. They had come to rob the native redskin, as their forefathers had robbed them. If they were set free, they would bring a revengeful horde on the trail. Ugh! wagh! they must die! The speaker drew back, waved his hand and uttered a sharp, quick command to the Indian guards. As if by magic the latter dropped their firearms. Then each one of them drew a knife or a tomahawk from his belt. There was no mistaking their ferocity or their purpose. They were fully intent on slaying the intruders. It seemed that the scene was to be a repetition of cruel massacres to which these untutored savages had been incited several times since the Revolutionary War had begun. Phil never could analyze the promptness with which a sudden, wild suggestion entered his mind. In a flash there occurred to him a vivid thought. In a kind of erratic desperation his hand went to a breast pocket. It was to draw forth the singularly engraved and painted token that Sachem had given him, on that memorable day when he had rescued that redman from the fugitive horse in the swamp. With a vague cry to attract attention Phil raised this in plain view of the Indian leader. The latter stared, glided forward, regarded the token fixedly, and spoke sharply to the guards, who fell back astonished. "Whew!" ejaculated Andy. "That was a close shave. Phil, they must know Sachem. It's mighty lucky you thought of it. They're pow-wowing over it, see?" The four principal Indians were discoursing animatedly. Evidently Phil's possession of the token mystified and influenced them, and checked their bloodthirsty instincts, at least temporarily. Finally the head Indian came up to Phil. He asked some questions about the token, which Phil truthfully answered. Then he asked about the whereabouts of Sachem. He seemed troubled and irresolute. He told Phil that a friend, an agent of the British, who had gone to see about a ship, would be with them soon, and they would get his opinion about affairs. At that moment a peculiar Indian call echoed from outside the cave. It stirred the savages greatly, and some ran out. It was to return with one of their own people, though he was not in Indian garb. "Sachem!" cried Phil. "We are saved." Sachem had returned to camp, and had set out on their trail at once. He had arrived in the nick of time. He made a short speech to the savages. He promised them money from the continental general. Within an hour the young volunteers and the Indians, each bearing a heavy load, were headed in the direction of the camp at Cambridge. The influence of Sachem had won the day.