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"They expect that we will try the portage, and then they will have us in a trap. Our only chance is to dash down the rapids." "It's a mighty poor one," murmured Gummidge; and as he spoke I heard an hysterical sob from his wife. "We are not going quite straight," I called to Moralle. "If we keep on this course we will hit the rocks. A few strokes to the left "

Three shots had missed me, and I knew that the canoe was jerking about too much with the current to admit of a sure aim the savages. "Paddle on, Moralle!" I cried. "Faster faster!" Meanwhile I watched the right hank, hoping to get another chance at Cuthbert Mackenzie.

This was a dread and significant discovery, and I instantly perceived the trap that had been laid for us. "Keep under cover!" I shouted at the top of my voice. "Be ready to fight when we pass the rapids! The devils are waiting for us below, blocking the way! Don't try to paddle, Moralle. The canoe is headed straight for the rift in the middle. It's sure death if you show yourself."

"We are within a quarter of a mile of the rapids now. What are the chances of running them safely?" "I have taken a canoe through them twice," replied Moralle, "and I could do it again. That is, provided I can paddle and look where I am going. Shall I try it, sir?" "No, not yet; wait a little," I answered. "I don't like this silence," exclaimed Gummidge.

Away from the fort I had been in better spirits. When I entered the stockade again, and realized that I was near Flora my heart began to ache as before. I was soon informed of what had taken place during my absence. Gummidge and his wife had departed for Fort Garry a week previously. Moralle was out of danger, and was mending slowly.

Gummidge were kneeling on a flat stone, dipping their faces and hands into the crystal waters of the lake. The wooded shores rose around us in majestic solitude, and I scanned them in all directions without discovering any trace of human occupation. I made no mention of the incident of the night, attaching no importance to it; nor did Moralle have anything to say on the subject.

I've no doubt the Indians have been won over by the Northwest people, and hostilities have already begun." On that point I did not agree with him, but I was unwilling to speak what was in my mind while Flora was listening. We were between two perils, and I called out to Moralle for his opinion. "If the redskins are in any force it will be impossible to land and make the portage," I said.

To our surprise, we found Moralle lying unconscious, but breathing. He had two ugly tomahawk wounds on the head and shoulder, but I judged that he had a fighting chance for life. Gardapie had gone to the bottom above the falls, and doubtless Lavigne's body had been sucked into one of the deep holes below, for we could find no trace of it.

I was on my way to meet you, Denzil, and it is fortunate that we did not miss each other." A few moments later we were all tucked into the canoe. Moralle was still unconscious, and the paddles of the voyageurs swept us down the foaming current of the Churchill River.

Gummidge and his wife were clinging to the bowlders in midstream, and with some difficulty they joined us. But Lavigne had disappeared and poor Moralle lay motionless on the opposite bank, apparently dead. Cuthbert Mackenzie's villainy had cost us dear. At first, huddled there together on the rocky spit of land, we stared at one another in dazed silence.