arm around the awed and silent Alice, laying the other affectionately
upon the shoulder of her brave son, did she speak--"Murmur not
at the will of Heaven."

The Seneca was surprised at the action, or, rather, want of action,
on the part of the captives. Receiving no response to his salutation,
he stood a moment in silence, and then emitted a tremulous whoop.
It was a signal for Red Wolf and the other Seneca. They understood
it, and hurried to the spot, with Linna close behind them.

It would have been expected that she would indulge in some outburst
when she saw how ill everything had gone; but, with one grieved
look, she went up to the sorrowing, weeping mother and buried her
head between her knees.

And then she did what no one of that party had ever before seen her
do--she sobbed with a breaking heart. The mother soothed her as
best she could, uttering words which she heard not.

Ben Ripley when the blow came, stood erect, and folded his arms.
His face was pale, but his lips were mute. Not even by look did he
ask for mercy from their captors.

In the midst of the impressive tableau, Linna suddenly raised her
head from the lap of the mother, her action and attitude showing
she had caught some sound which she recognized.

But everyone else in the party also noted it. It was a shrill,
penetrating whistle, ringing among the forest arches--a call which
she had heard many a time, and she could never mistake its meaning.