The lad’s eyes snapped into focus. For an instant they brightened with recognition; then they fell away. But he had recognized her. “I thought you--were dead,” he muttered. “I saw you fall. I--I tried to kill him for that--more than for all else. But--but----” his words wandered. The color flowed into Alagwa’s cheeks. Her eyes were very soft. “I thought you were dead, too,” she murmured. “But we are both alive--both alive!” Her voice thrilled with wonder. Jack’s fingers fumbled till they found the girl’s free hand and closed upon it. “You’ve been a bully little comrade,” he muttered. “Bully little comrade! Bully little com----” His voice died weakly away. His eyes closed for a moment, then opened again. “Cato?” he questioned. Alagwa straightened. She had forgotten Cato since she had seen him go down beneath the Indian’s tomahawk. Anxiously she looked about her. Then, abruptly, she started, stiffening like a wild thing at sight of the hunter. Not a score of feet away sat Brito, clutching his wounded side, glaring at her with blood-shot eyes. Her hand fell to the knife in her belt, and she gathered her feet beneath her, every muscle tense, ready to spring. For a moment the picture held, then Jack’s fingers tightened on her other hand, holding her back. “What is it? What is it?” he mumbled, piteously. “What is it?” “Nothing. It’s nothing!” Alagwa’s voice was low and soothing. Brito seemed severely wounded. He was not attempting to approach. Perhaps he could not. She leaned forward slightly, so as to cut off Jack’s line of sight. He must not know. Not till the last possible moment must he know. Forward she leaned, features rigid, teeth locked behind set jaws, nostrils distended, staring Brito in the face. The Englishman tried to meet her eyes but his own dropped. He tried to rise, but his strength failed him. Then he began to edge himself backward, eyes fixed on the girl. Soon he reached the glacis and dragged himself slowly up it. At the top he paused, a momentary flash of his former spirit burning in his eyes. “Bravo! Little one!” he faltered, so feebly that the girl could scarcely hear the words, “Bravo! You’re a true Telfair. I wanted you before for your money. Now I want you for yourself. You’re mine and I’ll have you. I’ll have you, understand? Sooner or later I’ll have you. Remember!” His clutch upon the crest of the glacis loosened and he slipped out of sight. Alagwa stared at the spot where he had vanished, listening to the thudding of the soft earth into the ditch beneath him. Toward what refuge he was striving she did not know, but she was sure that he could not reach it on his own feet. If all of his party were slain, and she did not doubt that they were, he could escape only by water. Both the Auglaize and the Maumee below the fort were navigable for small boats, and if Brito and his comrades had come in one, he might regain it and float down the Maumee, possibly to safety.