there was no
slackening of speed, the line remaining as even and regular as the links
of a chain, Timmendiquas from his position in seventh place looking now
and then with admiration over the heads of the men in front of him at
the captive.

They crossed the hills, entered the deep and tangled woods again, and
sped on as few war parties had ever traveled. The miles fell swiftly
behind them, no one spoke, they heard nothing but the regular breathing
of one another, and Henry did not yet see the drops of perspiration on
the bare brown back in front of him. The sun passed far down the western
arch. Shadowy twilight was already creeping up, the distant waves of the
forest were clothed in darkening mists, but they did not stop. Anue gave
no word, and Timmendiquas, for the time, would wait upon the formal
leader.

Henry, always keenly sensitive to everything about him, noticed that the
air was changing. It was growing heavier, and it had in it a touch of
damp, but so slight that an ordinary person would not have observed it.
There was, too, a faint circle of mist about the sun, and he believed
that the beautiful weather was passing.

His mind returned to the broad bare back in front of him. The figure of
Hainteroh was still working like a perfect machine, but the keen eyes of
the youth saw the sight for which he had long been looking. Squarely in
the middle of that brown surface a silver bead was forming. The yellow
light of the low sun struck upon it, revealing clearly its nature and
growth. Nor did it remain long alone. Brothers and sisters and cousins,
near and then distant, gathered around it, and the great brown back of
Hainteroh was wide enough for them all.

Henry enjoyed the sight. It appealed to the powerful, primitive
instincts in his nature, and again the inside of his chest bubbled with
silent laughter. His wicked delight increased when a slight wheezing
sound came to his ears. Hainteroh's breath was growing short. Now the
wheeze at intervals became something dangerously resembling a gasp, and
there could be no doubt that Hainteroh, mass of muscle and mighty
warrior of the Wyandots, was growing tired, while the prisoner, the
white youth just behind him, seemed still fresh and strong, and would
step in Hainteroh's tracks before the latter was fairly clear of them.

Henry heard the same slight wheezing sound behind him, and took one
quick glance over his shoulder. The face of the warrior next to him was
bedew