had seen lay dead behind him.

He shifted the rifle to one hand only, and wiped his face with the
other. Then, as his knees grew stronger and he was able to control the
extraordinary quivering of the nerves, he turned. The warrior, the red
spot upon his forehead, lay stretched upon his back. He had died without
a sound, as if he had been struck by a bolt of lightning. The handle of
the tomahawk was still clutched in his fingers, but his rifle had fallen
beside him. The single minute that he had paused to exult over the foe
who seemed so completely in his power had been fatal.

Henry took the powder and bullets from the fallen warrior and added them
to his own store--the bullets he found would fit his rifle--but he did
not wish to burden himself with the extra rifle, knife, and tomahawk.
Nor did he wish to abandon them. Their value was too great in the
wilderness. He chose a middle course. He thrust all three in a hollow
tree that he found about a mile further on. They were so well hidden in
the trunk that there was not one chance in a million of anybody but
himself ever finding them.

"I may need you again some day," he murmured to the inanimate weapons,
"and if so you'll be here waiting for me."

He noted well the locality, the trees, and the lay of the land.
Everything was photographed on his memory and would remain there until
such time as he needed the use of the picture. Then he continued his
advance, at the long easy walk that he had learned from the
frontiersmen, and soon his shaken nerves were restored.

He began to calculate now how far he might be from the Ohio, and, as he
was traveling more east than south, he reckoned that it would be several
days before he reached the mouth of the Licking. But he felt assured
that he would reach it, despite the dangers that were still thick about
him. In the afternoon he saw smoke on the horizon, and, going at once to
ascertain its cause, he found a small Shawnee village in a cozy valley.
He saw signs of preparation among the warriors in it, and he divined
that they, too, were destined for the "landing place" on the Ohio,
opposite the mouth of the Licking.

He left the village after the cursory look and plunged again into the
unbroken wilderness. Two or three hours later he decided that he was
being followed. He had not seen or heard anything, but it was a sort of
divination. He sought to throw it aside, telling himself that it was
mere foolishness, but he could not