those present. I looked down upon their appealing, anxious faces, with a
sad heart. In some way the sight of them brought back thoughts of the
savage, howling mob without, clamoring for blood, through which we had
won our passage by sheer good-fortune; of those leagues of untracked
forest amid whose glooms we had ploughed our way. I thought of these
things as I gazed upon the helpless women and children thronging about
me, and my heart sank as I realized how great indeed was the burden
resting upon us all, how frail the hope of safety. Death, savage,
relentless, inhuman death in its most frightful guise with torture and
agony unspeakable, lurked along every mile of our possible retreat; nor
could I conceive how its grim coming might long be delayed by that
palisade of logs. We were hopeless of rescue. We were alone, deserted,
the merest handful amid the unnumbered hordes of the vast West. Swift
and terrible as this conception was when it swept upon me, it grew deeper
as I learned more fully the details of our situation.

Just in front of where I lingered in my saddle, the crush slightly
parted, and I noticed a tall man step forward,--a fair man, having a
light beard slightly tinged with gray, and wearing the undress uniform of
a captain of infantry. A lady, several years his junior, stood at his
side, her eyes bright with expectancy. At sight of them, Captain Wells
instantly sprang from his horse and hastened forward, his dark face
lighted by one of his rare smiles.

"Captain," he exclaimed, clasping the officers hand warmly, and extending
his other hand in greeting to the lady, "I am glad indeed to have reached
you in time to be of service; and you, my own dear niece,--may we yet be
permitted to bring you safely back to God's country."

I was unable to catch the reply of either; but I noted that the lady