Merriweather, springing from his place of concealment and hastening toward the new comers.

“You saved your lives by washing the paint from your faces. What are your names?”

“Mine is Harvey Catlett and my friend’s is Abner Stark; but every where they call him Wolf Cap,” was the reply.

“And you are Mad Anthony’s scouts? Glory!” the overjoyed youth shouted, and then George Darling managed to get a word in.

“You are very welcome,” he said. “Heaven knows that we need your assistance. Did you know we were here?”

“We did,” said young Catlett, “and as we feared that you might send a bullet into the first red face that greeted you, we thought best to make ours white before making your acquaintance.”

“Thank God for that,” responded Darling fervently, and he shuddered when he thought how nearly he had taken the life of a succoring friend.

It was with joy that the youths led the scouts into the forest.

They felt that great assistance had been sent them from on high.