hands on," muttered Dave. "What a shame! Do you see anything of?"
The young hunter broke off short, for at that instant came a low moan of pain from the interior of the milk-house.
"Are you—you white people!" came in a gasp. "If you are, for the love of heaven—sa—save me!"
"It's Mrs. Risley!" burst out Dave, for he remembered that voice well. He raised his head up to a crack in the rude planking. "Mrs. Risley, are you alone?" he questioned. "It is I, Dave Morris, who is speaking."
"Dave Morris!" A groan followed. "Oh, Davy, lad, save me, won't you? I am almost dead!"
"I'll do what I can for you, Mrs. Risley. My cousin Henry is with me. We were out hunting when the Indians almost captured us. The woods are full of them. Is Mr. Risley around?"
"No, he went to Will's Creek on business. I saw the Indians coming and I tried to run away. But they shot at me with their arrows and one passed through my left shoulder. Then I pretended to go into the house and hide, and when they came in I leaped through a back window and ran for this place. I got into the water up to my shoulders and pulled a bit of a board over my head, to keep out of sight. They came down here and I thought sure they'd find
