the flame, and he could see them better, well enough, perhaps, to
tell to what tribe they belonged.

He watched under his lowered eyelids while the warriors, gathered
in a close group to make a shelter from stray puffs of wind,
strove with flint and steel.  Sparks sprang up and went out, but
Henry at last saw a little blaze rise and cling to life.  Then,
fed with tinder and bark, it grew under the roof made by the boat
until it was ruddy and strong.  The boat was tilted farther back,
and the fire, continuing to grow, crackled cheerfully, while the
flames leaped higher.

By a curious transfer of the senses, Henry, as he lay in the
thick blackness felt the influence of the fire, also.  Its warmth
was upon his face, and it was pleasing to see the red and yellow
light victorious against the sodden background of the rain and
dripping forest.  The figures of the warriors passed and repassed
before the fire, and the boy in the boat moved suddenly.   His
body was not shifted more than an inch, but his surprise was
great.

A warrior stood between him and the fire, outlined perfectly
against the red light.  It was a splendid figure, young, much
beyond the average height, the erect and noble head crowned with
the defiant scalplock, the strong, slightly curved nose and the
massive chin cut as clearly as if they had been carved in copper. 
The man who had laid aside a wet blanket was bare now to the
waist, and Henry could see the powerful muscles play on chest and
shoulders as he moved.

The boy knew him.  It was Timmendiquas, the great White Lightning
of the Wyandots, the youngest, but the boldest and ablest of all
the Western chiefs.  Henry's pulses leaped a little at the sight
of his old foe and almost friend.  As always, he felt admiration
at the sight of the young chief.  It was not likely that he would
ever behold such another magnificent specimen of savage manhood.

The presence of Timmendiquas so far east was also full of
significance.  The great fleet under Adam Colfax, and with Henry
and his comrades in the van, had reached Pittsburgh at last. 
Thence the arms, ammunition, and other supplies were started on
the overland journey for the American army, but the five lingered
before beginning the return to Kentucky.  A rumor came that the
Indian alliance was spreading along the entire frontier, both
west and north.  It was said that Timmendiquas, stung to fiery
energy by his defeats, was coming east to form a league with the
Iroquois, the famous Six Nations.  These warlike tribes were
friendly with the Wyandots, and the league would be a formidable
danger to the Colonies, the full strength of which was absorbed
already in the great war.

But the report was a new call of battle to Henry, Shif'less Sol,
and the others.  The return to Kentucky was postponed.  They
could be of greater service here, and they plunged into the great
woods to the north and, east to see what might be stirring among
the warriors.

Now Henry, as be looked at Timmendiquas, knew that report had
told the truth.  The great chief would not be on the fringe of
the Iroquois country, if be did not have such a plan, and he had
the energy and ability to carry it through.  Henry shuddered at
the thought of the tomahawk flashing along every mile of a
frontier so vast, and defended so thinly.  He was glad in every
fiber that he and his comrades had remained to hang upon the
Indian hordes, and be heralds of their marches.  In the forest a
warning usually meant the saving of life.

The rain ceased after a while, although water dripped from the
trees everywhere.  But the big fire made an area of dry earth
about it, and the warriors replaced the long boat in the water. 
Then all but four or five of them lay beside the coals and went
to sleep.  Timmendiquas was one of those who remained awake, and
Henry saw that he was in deep thought.  He walked back and forth
much like a white man, and now and then he folded his hands
behind his back, looking toward the earth, but not seeing it. 
Henry could guess what was in his mind.  He would draw forth the
full power of the Six Nations, league them with the Indians of
the great valley, and hurl them all in one mass upon the
frontier.  He was planning now the means to the end.

The chief, in his little walks back and forth, came close to the
edge of the bushes in which Henry lay, It was not at all probable
that he would conclude to search among them, but some accident, a
chance, might happen, and Henry began to feel a little alarm. 
Certainly, the coming of the day would make his refuge insecure,
and he resolved to slip away while it was yet light.

The boy rose a little in the boat, slowly and with the utmost
caution, because the slightest sound out of the common might
arouse Timmendiquas to the knowledge of a hostile presence.  The
canoe must make no plash in the water.  Gradually he unwrapped
the blanket and tied it in a folded square at his back.  Then he
took thought a few moments.  The forest was so silent now that he
did not believe he could push the canoe through the bushes
without being heard.  He would leave it there for use another day
and go on foot through the woods to his comrades.

Slowly he put one foot down the side until it rested on the
bottom, and then he remained still.  The chief had paused in his
restless walk back and forth.  Could it be possible that he had
heard so slight a sound as that of a human foot sinking softly
into the water?  Henry waited with his rifle ready.  If necessary
he would fire, and then dart away among the bushes.

Five or six intense moments passed, and the chief resumed his
restless pacing.  If he had heard, he had passed it by as
nothing, and Henry raised the other foot out of the canoe.  He
was as delicate in his movement as a surgeon mending the human
eye, and he had full cause, as not eye alone, but life as well,
depended upon his success.  Both feet now rested upon the muddy
bottom, and he stood there clear of the boat.

The chief did not stop again, and as the fire had burned higher,
his features were disclosed more plainly in his restless walk
back and forth before the flames.  Henry took a final look at the
lofty features, contracted now into a frown, then began to wade
among the bushes, pushing his way softly.  This was the most
delicate and difficult task of all.  The water must not be
allowed to plash around him nor the bushes to rustle as he
passed.  Forward he went a yard, then two, five, ten, and his
feet were about to rest upon solid earth, when a stick submerged
in the mud broke under his moccasin with a snap singularly loud
in the silence of the night.

Henry sprang at once upon dry land, whence he cast back a single
swift glance.  He saw the chief standing rigid and gazing in the
direction from which the sound had come.  Other warriors were
just behind him, following his look, aware that there was an
unexpected presence in the forest, and resolved to know its
nature.

Henry ran northward.  So confident was he in his powers and the
protecting darkness of the night that he sent back a sharp cry,
piercing and defiant, a cry of a quality that could come only
from a white throat.  The warriors would know it, and he intended
for them to know it.  Then, holding his rifle almost parallel
with his body, he darted swiftly away through the black spaces of
the forest.  But an answering cry came to his, the Indian yell
taking up his challenge, and saying that the night would not
check pursuit.

Henry maintained his swift pace for a long time, choosing the
more open places that he might make no noise among the bushes and
leaves.  Now and then water dripped in his face, and his
moccasins were wet from the long grass, but his body was warm and
dry, and he felt little weariness.  The clouds were now all gone,
and the stars sprang out, dancing in a sky of dusky blue. 
Trained eyes could see far in the forest despite the night, and
Henry felt that he must be wary.  He recalled the skill and
tenacity of Timmendiquas.  A fugitive could scarcely be trailed
in the darkness, but the great chief would spread out his forces
like a fan and follow.

He had been running perhaps three hours when he concluded to stop
in a thicket, where he lay down on the damp grass, and rested
with his head under his arm.

His breath had been coming a little faster, but his heart now
resumed its regular beat.  Then he heard a soft sound, that of
footsteps.  He thought at first that some wild animal was
prowling near, but second thought convinced him that human beings
had come.  Gazing through the thicket, he saw an Indian warrior
walking among the trees, looking searchingly about him as if he
were a scout.  Another, coming from a different direction,
approached him, and Henry felt sure that they were of the party
of Timmendiquas.  They had followed him in some manner, perhaps
by chance, and it behooved Mm now to lie close.

A third warrior joined them and they began to examine the ground. 
Henry realized that it was much lighter.  Keen eyes under such a
starry sky could see much, and they might strike his trail.  The
fear quickly became fact.  One of the warriors, uttering a short
cry, raised his head and beckoned to the others.  He had seen
broken twigs or trampled grass, and Henry, knowing that it was no
time to hesitate, sprang from his covert.  Two of the warriors
caught a glimpse of his dusky figure and fired, the bullets
cutting the leaves close to his head, but Henry ran so fast that
he was lost to view in an instant.

The boy was conscious that his position contained many elements
of danger.  He was about to have another example of the tenacity
and resource of the great young chief of the Wyandots, and he
felt a certain anger.  He, did not wish to be disturbed in his
plans, he wished to rejoin his comrades and move farther east
toward the chosen lands of the Six Nations; instead, he must
spend precious moments running for his life.

Henry did not now flee toward the camp of his friends.  He was
too wise, too unselfish, to bring a horde down upon them, and he
curved away in a course that would take him to the south of them. 
He glanced up and saw that the heavens were lightening yet more. 
A thin gray color like a mist was appearing in the east.  It was
the herald of day, and now the Indians would be able to find his
trail.  But Henry was not afraid.  His anger over the loss of
time quickly passed, and he ran swiftly on, the fall of his
moccasins making scarcely any noise as be passed.

It was no unusual incident.  Thousands of such pursuits occurred
in the border life of our country, and were lost to the
chronicler.  For generations they were almost a part of the daily