Dick Onslow

surrounding shrubs were pushed aside, and there, instead of the feathers and red face of an Indian, I saw the honest countenance of young Obed Ragget, looking cautiously about him on every side.

"Obed! Obed! I am here," I sung out; "come and help me, lad." He sprang on when he heard my voice.

"What, Dick! is that you? Well, I am glad you have escaped, that I am," he exclaimed, looking up into the tree.

"So am I to see you," I cried; "but help me down, lad, for I cannot help myself, I fear."

"That is more than I can do," said he. "Look; the red-skins have shot me through both arms, and I can no more use them than I can fly."

I now observed that he looked very pale and weak, and that both his arms hung down uselessly by his side. One thing also I saw, that as he could not manage to get up to me, I must contrive to descend the tree to meet him. Tearing, therefore, a neck-kerchief up into strips, I lowered my gun and pistols down by it, and then prepared to descend myself. I ma