him with his rifle but forbearing to shoot. A whistle ran along the
invisible line from left to right, and a flight of arrows arched
through the air.

"Get ready," Van Brunt commanded, a new metallic note in his voice.
"Now!"

They broke cover simultaneously. The forest heaved into sudden life.
A great yell went up, and the rifles barked back sharp defiance.
Tribesmen knew their deaths in mid-leap, and as they fell, their
brothers surged over them in a roaring, irresistible wave. In the
forefront of the rush, hair flying and arms swinging free, flashing
past the tree-trunks, and leaping the obstructing logs, came Thom.
Fairfax sighted on her and almost pulled trigger ere he knew her.

"The woman! Don't shoot!" he cried. "See! She is unarmed!"

The Crees never heard, nor Michael and his brother _voyageur_, nor Van
Brunt, who was keeping one shell continuously in the air. But Thom
bore straight on, unharmed, at the heels of a skin-clad hunter who had
veered in before her from the side. Fairfax emptied his magazine into
the men to right and left of her, and swung his rifle to meet the big
hunter. But the man, seeming to recognize him, swerved suddenly aside
and plunged his spear into the body of Michael. On the moment Thom had
one arm passed around her husband's neck, and twisting half about,
with voice and gesture was splitting the mass of charging warriors.
A score of men hurled past on either side, and Fairfax, for a brief
instant's space, stood looking upon her and her bronze beauty,
thrilling, exulting, stirred to unknown deeps, visioning strange
things, dreaming, immortally dreaming. Snatches and scraps of