another, formed a green and undulating roof upon which beat the moonbeams that could not penetrate the close darkness of the world below. They came to a small and sluggish stream, flowing without noise between the towering trees, and stepping into the water, walked up it for a long while with giant blacknesses on either hand and above them the moon. All this time the figure had stalked along before Landless without speaking or turning its head, but now, the trees thinning, and they coming upon a field of wild flax that lay fair and white beneath the moon, it quitted the lazy stream, and turning upon Landless as he too stepped upon the bank, showed him the bronze countenance and the gigantic form of the Susquehannock to whom he had once done a kindness, and with whom he had fought on such a night as this, in such a moonlight space. "Monakatocka, I thought it had been you," said Landless quietly. With the never failing "Ugh!" the Indian took Landless’s hand and with it touched his own dark shoulder. "I too am grateful, and with far more reason," said Landless smiling. "I will be yet more so if you will bring me out upon the bank of the river at some distance above yonder encampment." "What will my brother do then?" "I will go up the river." "After the canoes in which sit the palefaces from whom my brother flees?" "After the canoe which those canoes pursue." "If my brother wishes to take the warpath against the Algonquin dogs," said the Indian quietly, "he must not follow the Pamunkey, but the Powhatan." "They passed this village yesterday, going up the Pamunkey!" cried Landless. "A false trail. Let my brother come a little further and I will show him." He stepped in front of the white man, and moving rapidly across the field of flax, dived into the forest again. Following the stream in its windings they came to where it debouched into a wide and muddy creek, which, in its turn, flowed into an expanse of water that lay like molten silver beyond the fringe of trees. "The Pamunkey!" exclaimed Landless. The Indian nodded and led the way to a thicket of dwarf willow and alder that grew upon the very brink of the creek. "While the palefaces slept, Monakatocka was busy. Look!" he said, parting the bushes and pointing. Within the thicket, drawn up upon the sloping mud, were two large canoes, quite empty save for a débris of broken oars. Landless gasped. "How do you know them to be the same?" The Indian stooped and pointed to dark stains. "Blood. They had wounded among them. And this." He put something into the other’s hand. Landless looked at it, then thrust it into his bosom. "You are right. It is a ribbon which the lady wore. But why have they left their boats, and where are they?"