of the white men that at nearly every shot an Indian fell. They suffered so severely that they withdrew and held a powwow with their "medicine man," who was going through his incantations, when Lieutenant Wyman, creeping up, put a bullet through him. The Indians, howling vengeance, returned to the fight; but the white men, protected on one side by the pond, held their ground.

All through the afternoon the struggle went on.

"We will give you good quarter," shouted Paugus.

"We want no quarter, except at the muzzle of our guns," shouted Wyman.

Paugus had often been to Dunstable, and was well acquainted with John Chamberlain. They fired at each other many times, till at last Chamberlain sent a bullet through Paugus's head, killing him instantly.

"I am a dead man," said Solomon Keys. "I am wounded in three places." He crawled down to the shore of the pond, found an Indian canoe, and crept into it. The wind blew it out into the lake, and he was wafted to the southern shore. The sun went down, and the Indians stole away. Pitiable the condition of the settlers. Lovewell was dead, and also their beloved chaplain, Jonathan Frye, who with his dying breath prayed aloud for victory; Jacob Farrar was dying; Lieutenant Rollins and Robert Usher could not last long; eleven others were badly wounded. There were only eighteen left. The Indians had seized their packs; they had nothing to eat; it was twenty miles from the little fort which they had built at Ossipee; but they were victors. They had killed sixty or more Indians, and had inflicted a defeat from which the Pigwackets never recovered.

"Load my gun, so that, when the Indians come to scalp me, I can kill one more," said Lieutenant Rollins.

They must leave him. Sad the parting. In the darkness, guided by the stars, they started. Four were so badly wounded that they could not go on.

"Leave us," they said, "and save yourselves."

Twenty miles! How weary the way! They reach the fort to find it deserted. They had left seven men there, but when the fight began one of their number fled—a coward—and informed the seven that the party had all been cut off, not a man left. Believing that he had told the truth, they abandoned the fort, and returned to their homes.

Nothing to eat. But it was the month of May; the squirrels were out, and they shot two and a partridge; they caught some fish; and so were saved from starvation.

[to be continued.]

[Begun in No. 46 of Harper's Young People, September 14.]

WHO WAS PAUL GRAYSON?

BY JOHN HABBERTON,

Author of "Helen's Babies."

Chapter II.

THE FIGHT.

The afternoon session of Mr. Morton's select school was but little more promising of revelations about the new boy than the morning had been. Most of the boys returned earlier than usual from their respective dinners, and either hung about the school-room, staring at their new companion, or waited at the foot of the stairs for him to come down. The attentions of the first-named division soon became so distasteful to the new-comer that he left the room abruptly, and went down the stairway two steps at a time. At the door he found little Benny Mallow looking up admiringly, and determining to practice that particular method of coming down stairs the first Saturday that he could creep unnoticed through a school-room window. But Benny was not one of those foolish boys who forget the present while planning about the future. Paul Grayson had barely reached the bottom step, when little Benny looked innocently up into his face, and remarked, "Say!"

"Well?" Paul answered.

"You're the biggest boy in school," continued Benny. "I noticed it when you stood beside Appleby."

Grayson looked as if he did not exactly see that the matter was worthy of special remark.

"I," said Benny, "am the smallest boy—I am, really. If you don't believe it, look at the other boys. I'll just run down the steps, and stand beside some of them."

"Don't take that trouble," said Grayson, pleasantly. "But what is there remarkable about my height and your shortness?"

"Oh, nothing," said Benny, looking down with some embarrassment, and then looking up again—"only I thought maybe 'twas a good reason why we should be friends."

"Why, so it is, little fellow," said Grayson. "I was very stupid not to understand that without being told."

"All right, then," said Benny, evidently much relieved in mind. "Anything you want to know I'll tell you—anything that I know myself, that is. Because I'm little, you mustn't think I don't know everything about this town, because I do. I know where you can fish for bass in a place that no other boy knows anything about: what do you think of that? I know a big black-walnut tree that no other boy ever saw; of course there's no nuts on it now, but you can see last year's husks if you like. Have you got a sister?"

Grayson suddenly looked quite sober, and answered, "No."

"I have," said Benny, "and she is the nicest girl in town. If you want to know some of the bigger girls, I suppose you'll have to ask Appleby. What's the use of big girls, though? They never play marbles with a fellow, or have anything to trade. Say—I hope you're not too big to play marbles."

"Oh no," said Grayson; "I'll buy some, and we'll have a royal game."

"Don't do it," said Benny; "I've got a pocketful. Come on." And to the great disgust of all the larger boys Benny led his new friend into the school yard, scratched a ring on the dirt, divided his stock of marbles into two equal portions, and gave one to Grayson; then both boys settled themselves at a most exciting game, while all the others looked on in wonder, with which considerable envy and jealousy were mixed up.

"That Benny Mallow is putting on more airs than so little a fellow can carry; don't you think so?" said Sam Wardwell to Ned Johnston.

"I should say so," was the reply; "and that isn't all. The new fellow isn't going to be thought much of in this school if he's going to allow himself to belong to any youngster that chooses to take hold of him. I'll tell you one thing: Joe Appleby's birthday party is to come off in a few days, and I'll bet you a fish-line to a button that Master Benny won't get near enough to it to smell the ice-cream. How will that make the little upstart feel?"

"Awful—perfectly awful," said Sam, who, being very fond of ice-cream himself, could not imagine a more terrible revenge than Harry had suggested. Just then Bert Sharp sauntered up with his hands in his pockets, his head craned forward as usual, and his eyes trying to get along faster than his head.

"See here," said he, "if that new boy boards with the teacher, he's going to tell everything he knows. I think somebody ought to let him know what he'll get if he tries that little game. I'm not going to be told on: I have a rough enough time of it now." Bert spoke feelingly, for he was that afternoon to remain at school until he had recited from memory four pages of history, as a punishment for his long truancy.

"Who's going to tell him, though?" asked Sam. "It should be some fellow big enough to take care of himself, for Grayson looks as if he could be lively."

"JUST IN TIME TO SEE GRAYSON GIVE BERT A BLOW ON THE CHEST."

"I'll do it myself," declared Bert, savagely; saying which he lounged over toward the ring at which Benny and Grayson were playing. The boys had seen