south, and for a while he was puzzled.

Clearly, this was no part of the great war band, which lay to the north
of him, and he concluded that it must be a small expedition which had
already gone into the South and which was now returning. But he did not
like the character of the song. It indicated victory and he thrilled
with horror and repulsion. The triumph must be over people of his own
race.

The blood in every vein grew hot with anger, and the pulses in his
temples beat so hard that for a while it made a little singing in his
head. The great figure stiffened and a menacing look came into his eyes.

The chant was fast growing louder and the singers would pass within a
few feet of his tree. He slipped aside, turning away a hundred yards or
so, and crouched behind dense bushes. The singers came on, about twenty
warriors in single file, Shawnees by their paint, and the first three
brandished aloft three hideous trophies. Henry had more than suspected,
but the reality made him shudder.

The three scalps were obviously those of white people, and the first,
long, thick, blonde and fine, was that of a woman. The warrior who waved
it aloft, as he chanted, wore only the breech cloth, his naked body
painted in many colors, and he exulted as he displayed his trophy, so
fine to his savage heart.

A mighty rage seized Henry. For a moment his eyes were clouded by the
red mist that danced before them. The song of the wind before the dawn
had aroused him to his coming danger, but there was nothing to tell the
triumphant savage that his hour was at hand.

The red mist cleared away from the great youth's eyes. The blood lately
so hot in his veins became as cold as ice, and the pulses in his temples
sank to their normal beat. Mind and nerves were completely attuned and
he was a perfect instrument of vengeance. The rifle rose to his shoulder
and he looked down the sights at a tiny bear painted in blue directly
over the warrior's heart. Then he pulled the trigger and so deadly was
his aim that the savage sank down without a cry, and the scalp fell and
lay upon his own body, the long hair reddening fast with the blood that
flowed from the warrior's heart.

Henry turned instantly and darted into the depths of the forest,
reloading as usual as he ran. A single backward glance had shown him
that the warriors, confused and puzzled at first, were standing in an
excited group, looking down at their dead comrade. He knew they would
rec