of rock, where the last sun rays still lingered, then lightly continued the ascent. And I, turning to the Mohican for some possible explanation of this amazing sight, ere we crept out to closer ambush, found Mayaro staring through the trees with a glassy and singular expression which changed swiftly to astonishment, and then to utter blankness.

“Etho!” he exclaimed, bluntly, springing to his feet behind the nearer trees, regardless whether or not the stranger saw him. “Go forward now, Loskiel. This is a fool’s business — and badly begun. Now, let a white man’s wisdom finish it.”

I, too, had risen in surprise, stepping backward also, in order that the trees might screen me. And at the same moment the stranger rounded the jutting shoulder of our