boats so that they could approach on the water side of the farm. They knew Mr. Gracewood very well, and meant to plunder him first, for his share in the occurrences of the last week.

I could form no idea of the number of Indians on the island. I judged that there were but few, for I could see only two dugouts on the bank of the river. The savage at whom I had fired was in the act of stealing in at the window. He had but just raised his head, and was the only one I could see. His companions were near him, however, as I soon learned from the yell they uttered.

Mr. Gracewood's house was large enough to contain two rooms below, and two sleeping apartments in the attic. The front room, on the south side of the building, was nearly half filled by a Chickering's grand piano a magnificent instrument, which was the joy and solace of the recluse in his self-imposed exile. I had often sat for hours, while he played upon it, listening to the wonderful melody he produced. He was an enthusiast in music, and when he played he seemed to be inspired. Almost invariably his pipe was in his mouth when seated at the instrument, and I suppose his two joys afforded him a double rapture. I used to think, if it had been my case, I could have dispensed with the pipe, for it seemed like adding gall to honey.

The grand piano was a powerful instrument, and I had heard its tones before I landed, and I listened to them with pleasure until my attention was attracted by the sight of the dugouts. The front door was open, and Mr. Gracewood glanced at me as I appeared at the door, but he did not suspend his rapturous occupation. Behind him stood Ella, enjoying the music; and both were totally unconscious of the deadly peril that menaced them. At the same instant I discovered the head of the Indian. He had evidently surveyed the interior of the room before, and he did not see me. I fired, and he dropped. His companions yelled, and Ella uttered a scream of ter

ror.

She was beside herself with fear, and apparently thinking the house was full of Indians, she rushed out at the open door as I entered. Mr. Gracewood seized his rifle, and a revolver which hung on the wall.

I loaded my piece without delay, and followed the recluse out of the house. I heard him fire before I overtook him. The plan of the savages failed as soon as they were discovered, for they were too cowardly to stand up before the rifles of the white man. As I hastened after Mr. Gracewood, I glanced at

the outside of the window through which I had fired at the Indian. I supposed I had killed him, but his body was not there. A terrible scream from Ella, followed by a cry of anguish from her father, startled me at this moment, and I ran with all speed in the direction from which the sounds came. Passing beyond the house, I discovered four Indians in full retreat. Two of them were dragging the shrieking Ella over the ground towards the point on the river where the dugout lay. My blood ran cold with horror as I realized that they had captured the fair girl.

The poor child, in her terror, had run away from the house to escape the savages, who, she supposed, were in it, but only to encounter them where we could not prevent her capture. The agony of her father was fearful. He groaned in the heaviness of his soul. We could not fire upon the Indians without danger of hitting Ella, whom her ptors cunningly used to protect their own bodies from our bullets.

Mr. Gracewood ran, but his limbs seemed to be partially paralyzed by the agony of his soul. It was but a short distance to the river, and before we could overtake the Indians they had dragged their prisoner into one of the dugouts, and pushed off from the shore. I passed the poor father, but reached the bank of the river too late to be of any service to Ella. There were two Indians in each boat. They had gone but a few rods before a bullet whistled near my head, and I retreated to the shelter of a tree until Mr. Gracewood joined

me.

"Heaven be merciful to me and to her!" groaned he, pressing both hands upon his throbbing head. "What shall we do, Phil Farringford? Tell me, for I am beside myself."

"Let us take your barge and follow them." At that moment the shrill whistle of a steamer echoed over the island. The sound came from up the river, and I was satisfied that it was the boat in which Ella had been a passenger, returning for her.

"It will be a sad moment to her mother when she hears what has become of Ella," groaned Mr. Gracewood.

"Let us get into your boat as quick as possible, and meet the steamer as she comes down," said I.

We ran to the landing-place at the lower end of the island, and embarked in the barge. Mr. Gracewood rowed with all his might up the stream.

"Do you see the dugouts, Phil Farring

ford?" he asked, after he had pulled to the upper end of the island.

"Do you see the steamer?"

"She is not in sight yet."

The mouth of Crooked River was half a mile above Paradise Island. Its head waters were in the Indian country, but the most of its course was through a more level region than that through which the two branches of the Fish flowed, though the mouths of the two were not more than a couple of miles apart. Crooked River was, therefore, practicable for boats, while there were frequent rapids in Fish Creek and its tributaries.

"There's the steamer," said I, after we had gone a short distance farther.

"And where are the dugouts?"

66

They have gone into Crooked River." "Can the people in the steamer see them?" asked the anxious father.

"No," I replied, sadly.

Mr. Gracewood continued to pull with all his might, and in silence, till we came within hail of the steamer.

"Hold on!" I shouted, making violent gestures with my arms.

The captain immediately recognized me, and the wheels of the steamer stopped. Mr. Gracewood pulled the barge up to the steamer, and we went on board.

"Where is the young lady we left at your wood-yard?" demanded the captain, very much excited, as I stepped on deck.

"She was captured by the Indians less than an hour ago," I replied, breathless with emotion. "They have taken her up into Crooked River. Do put your boat about and chase them."

"Did you say this gentleman was Ella's father?" asked the captain, pointing to Mr. Gracewood, who had gone to the bow of the boat, and was on the lookout for the Indians. I told him all that had transpired since we met the evening before, including the capture of Ella.

"If he is Ella's father, his wife is on board," said the captain. "I suppose I must tell her what has happened to her daughter; but I don't like to do it."

As he left me to perform this unpleasant duty, I saw two ladies, and three gentlemen, two of them officers, coming down the steps from the boiler deck. I inferred that one of these ladies was the mother of Ella. She had evidently received an intimation that something had occurred to her daughter, for she was very much disturbed.

"What has happened, Captain Davis? Where is Ella?" she demanded, in broken tones.

"I am sorry to say that the news is not as pleasant as I could wish," replied the captain. "Where is she?" cried Mrs. Gracewood. "Her father is here, and "Her father!" exclaimed the anxious inother.

99

Mr. Gracewood, whose attention was attracted by the sound of her voice, came up to the group, and was instantly recognized by his wife.

"O, Henry!" gasped she. "Forgive me!" "Nay, I ask to be forgiven,” he replied, choking with emotion.

Without any explanation or terms whatever, the reconciliation seemed to be perfect.

"This must be a sad meeting, Emily, for I fear that Ella is lost to us."

"Where is she?" demanded Mrs. Grace

The captain directed the pilot to start the steamer, and head her up the river, as we dragged the barge on deck.

"But we can't go up these small streams," he added.

"The Indians cannot have gone far, and the water is deep for several miles," replied Mr. Gracewood.

"I will do the best I can. We have a detachment of troops which I am to land at your yard, Phil," continued the captain.

"In the hands of the Indians!" replied the suffering father.

"O, mercy! mercy!" groaned the poor mother. "They will kill her!"

"Let us hope not," replied Mr. Gracewood, struggling to repress his emotions.

But this intelligence was too heavy for the strength of the poor lady, and she was borne fainting up the stairs to the saloon. Mr. Gracewood assisted in this duty, and I was left to give the military officers the information they needed. The steamer had already entered Crooked River, and a leadman was calling out the depth of water.