At first, huddled there together on the rocky spit of land, we stared at one another in dazed silence. It had been so sudden a transformation that we could not comprehend it all at once. A moment before while the horrid chorus of war-whoops rang in our ears we had each of us been marked out for death by tomahawk or bullet. Now our red enemies had vanished as swiftly and noiselessly as the deer; there was no sound but the droning chant of the rapids, and the singing of the birds in the forest trees.

But five of us were left; we had been eight that morning. As I thought of the three brave fellows we had lost, I made a vow that sooner or later I would avenge them. Then I knelt beside Flora, and by comforting words sought to banish the look of frozen horror from her lovely face. Mrs. Gummidge had fainted, and her husband was dashing water on her temples. Baptiste was wringing his dripping clothes and bemoaning the loss of his prized musket. We were all drenched to the skin, and it behooved us to mend our sad plight as quickly as possible.

“Our lives are safe Gummidge,” I said, rising, “and that is something to be thankful for. We must have a fire to dry our clothes, and then we will be off on foot for the fort. The canoe is at the bottom, and crushed beyond repair.”

“But why did those red varmints spare us?” Gummidge cried hoarsely. “They melted away like chaff. What does it mean, Carew?”

“The leader of the Indians was Gray Moose,” I replied. “I saved him from a grizzly last winter, and this was his way of paying the debt. The moment he recognized me he called off his braves.”

“Then they were not on the war-path against the company? There was a white man with them.”

“I know that,” I answered, “and it was he who hired the savages.”

I briefly explained my view of the situation to Gummidge, who was aware of all that had happened in Quebec.

“It is a clear case,” I concluded, “and the motive was revenge and the capture of Miss Hatherton. Mackenzie chose this spot so that he could drive us over the falls. No doubt he intended to kill all of us but the girl.”

By this time Mrs. Gummidge was sitting up, and the color was returning to her cheeks. Baptiste set to work with flint and steel to light a fire, and meanwhile Gummidge and I waded through the shallows to the opposite side of the stream. 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.

We called Baptiste over, and he helped to carry poor Moralle back. We put him down by the fire, which was blazing cheerily, and Gummidge started to dress his wounds. Flora was standing alongside the flames. She was shivering with cold, and her face looked blue and pinched. I made her swallow some brandy I had a flask in my pocket and the fiery liquor warmed her at once.

“Denzil, was Cuthbert Mackenzie with the Indians?” she asked.

“Yes,” I admitted.

“We have not seen the last of him!” she cried. “He will come back.”

“I only wish he would,” I replied. “But don’t be alarmed. You are quite safe. We shall soon be at the fort.”

“The fort!” she murmured. “Then we are near it?”

“Very near,” said I. “It will be a couple of hours’ tramp, and then ”

I was interrupted by a shout from Gummidge and Baptiste. Hearty cheers answered them, and when I looked around I saw four men, with a big canoe on their shoulders, coming up the shore at a trot. And the foremost of them was the factor of Fort Royal.

Flora divined the truth instantly, and all her self-control could not prevent an agitated heaving of her bosom and a sudden pallor of the cheeks.

“Oh, Denzil, is it ” she began.

“Yes; it is Griffith Hawke,” I broke in savagely.

“Be brave!” she whispered. “Our paths lie apart do not make it harder for me.”

Our eyes met in a look that spoke volumes, and then there was a sudden uproar as the factor and his companions joined our party. I heard my name called and soon Griffith Hawke’s hand was locked in mine and he was pouring out a torrent of eager words.

“And is this Miss Hatherton, my boy?” he asked suddenly.

I introduced him briefly and he made her a low and respectful bow. What he said to Flora or how she greeted him I do not know. But as I turned on my heel I stole a glance at the girl and I saw that she was struggling hard to keep her composure. The sun was shining brightly but the world looked dark and black to my eyes.

As soon as the excitement of the meeting was over Gummidge and I gave the factor a coherent story of our adventures; and the narrative brought a grave and troubled expression to his face.

“I will speak of these matters later,” he said. “The first thing is to get back to the fort. The wounded voyageur needs immediate attention. My canoe is a large one and will hold us all.”

“But where were you bound?” I asked. “To Fort York? You sent word that you were not coming.”

“Yes; but affairs grew more quiet,” Hawke replied, “and I concluded that I could be spared for a week or two. 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. It was shortly after noon when on turning a bend we saw below us the towers and palisades, the waving flag of the Hudson Bay Company’s post of Fort Royal. Since I had last seen it months before what a change had come into my life! It was a sad and bitter home-coming for me.

So our journey through the wilderness ended and now there was a lull before the threatened storm broke in all its fury before the curtain rose on new scenes of excitement and adventure. I will pass briefly on to the things that followed soon after our arrival at the fort, the events that far surpassed in tragedy and bloodshed, in sorrow and suffering, all that had happened previously; but first I must give the reader a peep at a northern Hudson Bay Company’s post as it was in those remote days as it exists at the present time with but few changes.

Fort Royal was a fair type of them all though it was much smaller than some. It was built mostly of heavy timbers and stood in a little clearing close to the river. The stockade was about six feet high, and had two corner towers for lookout purposes. Inside, arranged like the letter L, were the various buildings the factor’s house, those of the laborers, mechanics, hunters and other employees; a log hut for the clerks; the storehouses where were kept the furs, skins and pelts, and the Indian trading house where the bartering was done. Some smaller buildings the icehouse, the powder house and a sort of stable for the canoes completed the number.

Nearly every man had a little bedroom meagerly furnished with pictures from old illustrated papers adorning the walls. The living room where they sat at night or on off days, yarning, smoking, and drinking, was a great hall. A big table in the center was strewn with pipes and tobacco, books and writing materials; on the walls hung muskets and fishing tackle. All the houses had double doors and windows; and in the winter tremendous stoves were kept burning. The food varied according to the season, ranging from pemmican and moose-muffle which is the nose of the moose to venison and beaver, many kinds of fowl, and fresh and salted fish.

A word as to the Indian trading house. It was divided into two rooms, the inner and larger one containing the stores blankets, scalping knives, flints, twine, beads, needles, guns, powder and shot and other things too numerous to mention. To the outer room the Indians entered and through a square iron-barred hole they passed their furs and pelts, receiving in exchange little wooden castors, with which they purchased whatever they wanted.

Fort Royal, as I have said, was not so large as some. It held at this time about forty men, all trusty, good-hearted fellows. It was regarded as an impregnable post; but little did any of us dream how soon our flag would be lowered amid scenes of flame and shot, of carnage and panic.