"Hurrah!" Matthew cried; "how good it is to see the dwellings of white men." "We shall rest now," Agnes suggested, "and allow the horses their meal. Look at my pony; isn't it a wonder? And it was gotten by just a little trick." "Yes, tell us the story," Matthew begged. "Not until the fire is burning, and the meat is cooking, and the horses are eating!" the girl said with a roguish smile. Soon the log fire blazed brightly, and the horses were tied to ropes, enjoying the rest and the grazing abundantly. "Where did you get that meat from?" Fred asked; "why, you have stacks of it." "All Indian meat," the girl laughed; "spoils of war." "Oh, tell us the story," Matthew asked again. "Wait, until we are eating." Afterwards, while they were sitting around the fire with the juicy meat stuck on bits of wood, and eating as if they had fasted for a week, Agnes told her story. "You see," she began, "I ventured out very bravely, but I made the mistake which others made, and did not look out for the Indians." "Your brother is guilty," Fred smiled; "the same fool head rests on us both. We are flesh of one flesh." "Well," the girl went on; "the first thing I felt, were two arms around me, and then a band which pinned my hands together. A rude hand was thrust before my mouth, so that I could not cry out. The Indians then carried me up the bank, and brought me to the camp, where they quartered me with the women, quite comfortably, but nevertheless a prisoner." "Just my story," Fred interposed, "only they did not trust me with the women." "You don't belong there either," Agnes said; "they might have made you marry one of their number." They all laughed while Fred shook his head. "Never in my life," he affirmed. "But where did the women come from?" Matthew queried. "I thought it was a scouting party, consisting only of men." "That is true," Agnes explained; "but the scouting party was supplemented by other Indians from across the river. That is the reason why I urged you to cross the stream. The Indians are all over the other side, headed for the south where they are going to unite and attack the white men conjointly. I heard it all, for the women spoke about it, not knowing that I understood the Pequot language. It is always good to know many languages." "That is true," Matthew agreed; "and if we get out of this, I am going to study all kinds of languages, until I am a regular Babel. That's the way." "Go on with your story, Agnes," Fred urged her; "you just finished chapter one, and I am anxious to hear the rest. The reader is always looking for the climax."