“How long have I lain here? I must have received a severe blow; I’m dizzy, and my head aches. It’s a wonder he didn’t kill me while he had the chance. Perhaps he doesn’t hate me as he did. God grant that it may be so! Of course he has taken my arms with him. Well, I can’t blame him; I robbed him of his own. I was a fool to send away the two guards. I should have kept them at hand day and night. Why don’t the redskins come; what can be the cause of their delay?” Again he essayed to arise, and again fell back with a groan. The fire had burned down; the room was in darkness. No sound came to his ears, but the patter of the rain upon the bark roof, the fitful sough of the wind, and the sullen boom of the rushing stream. A half hour passed. He strained at the thongs that bound his limbs, but accomplished nothing. “Curse the luck!” he cried angrily. “Why don’t the red hounds put in an appearance? Can it be possible he has escaped them? How strong and active he is. He was too much for me, with all my skill as a wrestler. Mercy, how my head aches! And how manly and brave he is; a young man of whom any father might be proud! But he hates me—hates me! In the name of all the fiends, must I lie here helpless while he makes his escape? I shall go mad. Hark! Footsteps and voices.” A moment later the door flew open, and a number of braves strode into the room. “Is that you, Long Gun?” Bradford asked excitedly. “Ugh!” grunted the leader of the party. “And the palefaces—where are they?” “Gone.” “Gone!” shouted the prostrate man, writhing like one undergoing torture. “Gone! You shall pay dearly for allowing him to escape!” Long Gun kicked the half-burned faggots into a blazing pile. Then folding his arms upon his brawny chest, he answered composedly: “Scar Face should not talk big and loud. See! He lies helpless, like a tethered dog. He can bark, but he cannot bite. He snaps and snarls, and finds fault with Long Gun and his warriors, because they did not capture the armed palefaces, in the black forest. But Scar Face could not overpower _one unarmed paleface, in his own cabin_. The young man joined his friends. They fought in the darkness and made their escape. My warriors bear the marks of the fight.” “Fool!” Bradford bellowed chokingly. “Don’t stand there gloating over my predicament! Sever my bonds at once.” The chief silently obeyed. Bradford struggled to his feet, shook himself, and rubbed his stiffened limbs. Then he inquired briskly: “All three escaped?” “Ugh!” “And the dog?” “Ugh!” “Which way did they go?” “Long Gun and his warriors tried to follow them, but could not. The black night swallowed them.”