and make him get up, but the poor animal's strength was exhausted. I, too, made an attempt to rise. It was with difficulty that I could get on my feet. I saw at a glance that my horse could no longer avail me. The Indians were advancing with their scalping-knives in their hands; in another minute, unless I could escape, I should be in their power. Life was sweet, notwithstanding the pain I suffered from the fall, and from the wound I had just received. Mustering up my remaining strength, I turned to fly. In vain, however, were all my efforts; the Indians came on whooping and shrieking; at every bound they were gaining upon me. Had I possessed a weapon, I would have fought for my life, but escape by flight was impossible. Their scalping-knives flashed in the rising sun. I raised my eyes to take one farewell look, as I supposed, of the blue sky above me, and patted the head of my faithful dog, who affectionately licked my hands, conscious of the fearful predicament in which we were placed, and as if to say, "I am ready to stop and die with you, my master." Had they chosen it, the Indians might have sent a dozen arrows into my body, but, although they had their bows in their hands, they refrained from shooting. At that moment, when all hope seemed lost, I heard a shout coming from out of the wood behind me, and the words-- "Run for it, friend!" I did not require a second summons, exerting all my remaining strength, I turned and hastened in the direction whence the voice proceeded. I saw two persons with rifles in their hands, one a white man, the other an Indian. The next instant I fell fainting to the ground. I heard loud voices, but no shot was fired. The white man was addressing the Indians, and they replied. I in vain endeavoured to arouse myself, and in a short time became totally unconscious of what was passing around. When my senses returned, I found myself in a roomy wigwam of birch bark, the floor was lined with fine mats, and there were two skin-covered couches, besides the one on which I lay. Several weapons, cooking utensils, and other articles, hung to the supports, while round the walls were piled up packages of skins. At my side lay Boxer, looking sleek and fat, as if he had recovered from his fatigue and had been well cared for. He and I were the only inmates of the hut. Though I talked to him he could give me no information as to what had happened, or how I came to be there. It was some time, indeed, before I recollected the events which had occurred, and I then knew that I was indebted for my life to the white hunter I had seen just as the Indians were on the point of capturing me.