Robert slept in the fort, in the room next to that in which the maidens were, and from which they had escaped. This man was always on his guard. He never lay down unarmed. His slumber was light, and only needed the slightest sound to break it. At midnight, he was wakened by a sound as if some fastening was broken. He raised himself upon his elbow and listened. The sound was continued. It evidently proceeded from the girls’ room. He rose with care, and, stepping softly into their apartment, discovered a dark figure—that of a man—with something gleaming between his closed teeth, climbing into the window. Robert’s plan was formed in a moment. The figure was that of Carl. By slow approaches he advanced his body, until he stood upon the floor of the chamber. He now took the knife, which he had held in his teeth, from his mouth, and approached the bedside. The girls slept soundly. The perils of the night had wearied them entirely, and they gave themselves wholly to slumber. The murderer, for he had no less a thought in his heart, bent over them. The clear moonlight—for the storm of the night before had been succeeded by a remarkably bright evening—stole through the broken lattice, and fell upon the upturned faces of the two. In his mad desire to be revenged upon Robert and Willie, Carl could think of nothing which could wound them deeper than the death of these pure beings. “They shall die,” he muttered, “and I will never again look a white man in the face.” The heart of a demon would have been touched by the beauty of those over whom he lifted his steel; but the heart of Carl was harder than adamant. The knife was lifted when a pistol cracked. The murderer, wounded unto death, dropped the knife and staggered to the window. “You have triumphed, devil that you are—you have triumphed. I have nothing left but to die. I curse you with my latest breath,” he said, recognizing the man who had shot him. As he spoke his hold upon the window-sill relaxed, and he fell backward upon the floor. The strong limbs stiffened, and the moon’s rays fell upon the face of the dead. Robert quieted the frightened girls, and calling in help, removed the body. He had, in some way, eluded the guard, and made an entrance into the works, an unlucky thing for him. The garrison was permitted, the next morning, to march away, according to the terms of surrender, with the understanding that by that surrender they conceded all claims to the occupancy of the Connecticut Valley.