boy, looking up into the blazing eyes, read murder in them. What he did then was done without thought, in the consuming horror that gripped him. Quickly lifting a foot, he thrust it at the savage’s stomach. The latter fell backward with a grunt of pain, the knife dropped from his hand, and David, rolling swiftly to one side, sprang to his feet. But the Indian was up almost as soon as he. Not heeding the knife underfoot, he seized his tomahawk and sprang at the boy, his eyes glaring with pain and hatred and the lust to kill. David turned to flee, but a branch had caught at his torn doublet and now, ere he could wrest himself away, the Wachoosett was on him. David saw the tomahawk swing upward and back, heard the savage’s indrawn breath rattle in his throat, and knew that the end of all things on earth had come to him, even as, instinctively, he threw up an arm to ward the blow. Then, as the weapon swept down upon him, a form rushed between, the murderous arm was grasped and dragged aside, and the blow ended weakly in air.
The second Indian spoke harshly and with authority as David, weak with revulsion, staggered against a tree. What he said
