An Indian the helpless man tied securely flat the length of his body along the horse's back, certainly was. He presented a strange and pitiable sight. His attire was in tatters. One half of his head was shaven clear and was daubed with white paint thickly. On the other side among the matted hair was a great mass of red paint. His face was bruised and slashed, and his hands were bleeding with many open cuts. The helpless frenzy in the Indian's eyes was terrible. Their frightful expression made Ralph shudder and caused Andy to shrink back. Phil was simply full of sympathy. The man's breath showed that he had been drinking deeply of the pestilent "fire water" of the white man. "This is shameful," said Phil indignantly. "Some one has been guilty of a mean, cowardly act." "He looks dangerous," said Andy, but Phil without delay proceeded to cut the straps and ropes that held the Indian helpless. The man was so cramped that he almost fell to the ground, once freed. Phil supported him, easing him to a fallen tree, where the Indian sat swaying for some moments, his fiery eyes scanning his rescuers one after the other. It was still light enough for them to make out that he had been badly mistreated. The fellow gradually restored circulation to his cramped limbs. Very suddenly he arose to his feet. He threw out his arms with a wild, furious gesture in the direction of the city. A guttural half-choked cry resembling that of some wounded, angry animal sounded in his throat. Phil went to the edge of the swamp, and wetting his handkerchief in some surface water there returned to the side of the redman and proceeded to wash the blood from his face. The man did not resent this. His hard features softened somewhat. Then he braced upright, and a kind of tragic, heroic pose was his as he folded his arms across his breast. "Me Sachem," he said proudly, "King Philip Sachem." "I say!" exclaimed Andy sharply to his comrades, "I know who he is." "You know him?" repeated Phil vaguely. "Yes, I've heard about him more than once. He's hung around lots of villages for the last ten years. Pretends to be a great grandson, or something of that kind, of King Philip, the great Rhode Island Sachem, who was a noted warrior some two hundred years ago." "I've read about King Philip in history," said Ralph. "This man has been a worthless, idle fellow, who they said didn't do much except steal and drink 'fire-water.' Since the trouble began with the British, I've heard my father tell how he has been hired by the redcoats to try and incite the stray tribes to make the colonists trouble. He's a bad man, I fear, Phil, and I don't believe you can trust him far." The Indian either did not understand perfectly what Andy was saying, or was engrossed in a wild crooning he indulged in. This was a sing-song chant directed toward the city.