The sudden exclamation caused Willie, who stood at his side, to start back in some alarm. The movement saved his life, for the rifle of Carl Anselm cracked at that moment, and the ball tore a bloody track through the fleshy part of his arm. In an instant the bushes parted to the rush of the body of Bainbridge. For a man of peace, he certainly behaved in a wonderful manner. The movement was so sudden, that he was close to the side of the would-be assassin before he could turn. Carl was no coward. His courage had been proved in a hundred different ways. Drawing his knife, he made a sudden rush at the hawker, and struck at him viciously with the keen blade. Boston nimbly eluded the stroke and returned it by a slashing blow, which laid open the cheek of the other, marking him for life. As soon as he felt the wound, Carl turned and fled along the river shore, at his best speed, with the hawker following like a sleuth-hound on the trail. He passed round a point of rocks which completely hid him from view. Bainbridge rushed forward, in time to catch a glimpse of the German upon the back of his horse, which he had tied there for security. His jeering laugh came back to them on the wind. “He has escaped,” cried Boston, as Willie came up. “He got to his horse. The devil fly away with him!” “Is he hurt?” “Yes. I laid open his cheek from the ear to the chin. The scoundrel. He will carry my mark to the grave. That he may, is my fervent prayer. Do you know him?” “I have never seen him before.” “I have. He is a minion of Van Zandt, or my name is not Bainbridge. It is young Carl Anselm. That bullet was meant for you. How could he miss, when he was not thirty feet away? The miserable scoundrel belongs in Good Hope. They say his character is none of the best, even among his associates. Let me see your arm.” With some labor and pain, Willie stripped the jacket and shirt from the wound and showed it to Bainbridge. It was a deep flesh-wound, and Boston shook his head. Going down to the river bank, he gathered some leaves from a plant which grew there. These he bruised into a poultice, with which he bound the wounded limb. “I know the nature of the herb,” he said. “An old Indian woman told me about it, and tried it on a bear-scratch I once got in a fight with that animal. It was wonderful in its effects.” “It feels comfortable,” said Willie, placing the arm in a sling which the other improvised from a sword-belt. “I will yet have the pleasure of wringing the man’s neck who did me this favor.” “He is no enemy to despise,” replied Boston. “When you have an open, avowed enemy, you know how to guard against him; but a sneaking fellow like this, who would shoot you from behind a bush, is more to be feared. He is full of energy, and will come upon you in impossible places. In the assault to-night, look out for _him_!” “You think they will come, then?”