"Is there anything I can do for you?" he at length asked.

"I have a message for the Major," Dane explained, "and I must deliver it to him."

"Give it to me," and the officer reached out his hand. "I am Lieutenant Street, and I shall see that the Major gets it."

"That I cannot do," Dane replied as he drew back a step. "I have strict orders to give it to Major Studholme, and to no one else."

"It must be very important, then," and the officer smiled.

"It is, and the Major must get it at once. Where is he?"

"Over there," and the Lieutenant motioned across the water to the right where the small boats were still busy landing people from the ships.

"He's got his hands full straightening things out. But he can do it if any one can."

The officer now turned his attention to several impatient men who were standing near, so further conversation was out of the question. Dane had taken no notice of those around him. Neither did he see three men watching his every movement. They had evidently overheard his conversation with the officer, and seemed greatly pleased. As Dane left the place and walked toward the road leading to the mill-pond, the three followed. They kept some distance behind until they came to a grove of rough tangled trees, when they started forward at a run.

Dane, hearing them coming, stopped and looked back. Instinctively the caution of the wild possessed him, causing him to stand on the defensive, and his eyes to gleam with the light of danger.

"What do you want?" he demanded, as the three suddenly stopped before him. "You seem to be in a hurry."

"We are," one of the men replied. "We want that message you have for the Major."

"What do you want it for?"

"Never mind about that. Hand it over, and be d.a.m.n quick about it, too."

Dane's body now quivered with excitement, and the thrill of battle swept upon him. His eyes narrowed until they became mere slits, and his hands clenched hard as he drew himself to his full height.

"If you want the message I carry, come and take it," he challenged.

"That is the only way you can get it."

"Don't be a fool," another of the men warned. "You might as well hand over that message first as last. It will save you a lot of trouble.

We're going to get it, so make up your mind to that."

"How?" Dane asked.

"Oh, you'll soon know. Out with it. We're in a hurry."

"So am I," Dane replied.

Then he slightly crouched, and with a sudden tiger-like spring he was upon them. A sledge-hammer drive to the jaw of one sent him reeling backwards among the trees, while a mighty swinging blow to the right crumpled up another in the middle of the road. So astonished was the third at this unexpected attack, and the complete knock-out of his companions, that he did not raise a hand in their defence. A sudden terror possessed him, so leaping aside just in time to escape the whirlwind of a man charging upon him, he ran as he had never run in his life before.

Dane stood looking after him, and a smile overspread his face.

"Hi, there, you've forgotten the message," he called. "Come back and get it."

But the man paid no heed. He kept steadily on, and only slowed down to a walk as he neared the store. Dane next turned his attention to the other two men. They had both recovered, and were sitting upon the ground, rubbing their injured faces in the most doleful manner.

"Why, what's the matter?" he bantered. "Did something hit you?"

"Did it?" one of them growled. "Did lightning ever hit a tree? Who in h---- are you, anyway?"

"Oh, I'm the man with the message. I've got it yet; don't you want it?

I thought you were in a hurry."

As the crestfallen men made no reply, Dane stepped toward them.

"I'll tell you who I am," he began. "I am the King's Arrow. I go where I am sent, and I hit the bull's eye every time, and hit it hard, too. Do you doubt it?"

"Good Lord, no!" was the gasping confession from each.

"And let me tell you further," Dane continued, "that as I have dealt with you now, so others will deal with you in the future if you try any more of your mean tricks. Perhaps you will not get off so easily then as you have this time. I know who you are. You are employed by the slashers to spy upon the King's men, engaged in the lawful business of cutting masts for his Majesty's navy. They are well named, for they are slashing everywhere, and ruining the forests. But they have about reached the end of their tether, and you can tell them so from me, Dane Norwood, the King's Arrow."

Without another word he turned, and walked rapidly along the road leading to the mill-pond.

CHAPTER III

CUPID'S ARROW

Before a rude shack, somewhat back from the water, a middle aged colored woman was seated upon a block of wood. In her hands she held a waffle-iron, the farther end of which was thrust into a small fire between several stones. She was a bunty little body, clad in a plain grey dress, with a cap, somewhat in the form of a white turban, adorning her head. Her naturally good-natured face bore an anxious expression, and a worried look appeared in her eyes as she turned them occasionally to the people moving about farther down the hill.

Presently she drew the iron from the fire, unclamped it, and with remarkable deftness turned out a nicely-browned waffle into a dish by her side. She then greased both halves of the pan, filled them with batter, reclamped the iron and thrust it again into the fire. This she did several times until the dish was almost filled with delicious-smelling waffles.

"Guess dey'll suit de Cun'l," she said to herself. "He's mighty fond of waffles, he shur' is. An' Missie Jean is, too, fo' dat matter. I wonder what's keepin' dem. Dey's generally on time fo' supper. But, den, t'ings are so upset dese days dat only de Lo'd knows what's goin'

to happen next."

Then she began to sing in a subdued voice the Twenty-third psalm, the only piece she knew.

"I hab no doubt about de Lo'd bein' my Shepa'd," she commented, "an' I guess He'll not let me want. But He hasn't led me into green past'rs dis time. I wonder if de Good Lo'd made dis place, anyway," and she gazed ruefully around. "It looks to me as if de deb'l had a mighty big hand in it, fo' sich a mixed up contraption of a hole I nebber set my two eyes on befo'. An' to t'ink dat de Cun'l had to leab his nice home in Ol' Connec., an' come to a jumpin'-off place like dis. I hope de ever-lastin' fire will be seben times hot when it gits dem skunks dat stirred up ructions 'ginst good King George, I sa'tinly do."

A slight noise startled her, and turning her head, she smiled as she saw a girl standing near her side.

"Land sakes! Missie Jean, how yo' did scare me!" she exclaimed. "I thought mebbe it was a bear or a tager comin' out ob de woods, fo' one nebber knows what to 'spect next in dis place."

"I am sorry I frightened you, Mammy," the girl smilingly replied, "And it was too bad that I interrupted you in your interesting talk about 'everlasting fire,' 'ructions,' and 'King George.' You seem to be in a fighting mood."

"I is, Missie Jean, I is in a turrible fightin' mood. I'd like jes at dis very minute to hab my two hands on dem rascals dat turned on good King George, an' den druve us all out ob our homes. I'd show dem a t'ing or two, I sa'tinly would."

"I don't doubt it," the girl replied, as she stooped and helped herself to a waffle. "If you could fight as well as you can cook you would be a wonder."

"I could cook on our stove in Ol' Connec., Missie Jean, but it's mighty hard work on dat," and she looked contemptuously at the rude fire-place. "To t'ink that we should ebber come to dis!"

"Why, I think it's great, Mammy."

"What' not better'n Ol' Connec.?"

"Oh, not at all. But this might be worse. I miss our dear old home in Connecticut, and yet I have often longed for a life such as this. I am sure you will like it, too, Mammy, when you get used to it."