trip, but every attempt failed. The immense
strength and agility of the Indian always enabled him to recover
himself, and then the struggle was begun anew.

The beads of sweat stood out on Henry's forehead, and he believed that
he could hear his sinews and those of his opponent crack as they put
forth prodigious efforts. Both fell to the ground and rolled over and
over. Then they were back on their feet again, without ever releasing
their hold. Henry tried to reach the knife in his belt, and the Indian
sought his, too. Both failed, and then, Henry, crouching a little,
suddenly put his shoulder against his antagonist's chest, and pushed
with all his might. At the same time he hooked his right foot around the
Indian's ankle and pulled with a mighty jerk.

It was a trick, the device of a wrestler, and the great Indian, losing
his balance, went down heavily upon his back. Henry fell with his full
weight upon him. The Indian uttered a gasp, and his grasp relaxed. Henry
in an instant sprang to his feet. He snatched up his rifle that he had
dropped in the bushes, and when the fallen man rose the muzzle of a
loaded rifle, held by steady hands, confronted him.

Henry looked down the sights straight into the face of the Indian, and
beheld Timmendiquas, the great White Lightning of the Wyandots.
Timmendiquas saw the flash of recognition on the boy's face and smiled
faintly.

"Shoot," he said. "You have won the chance."

Conflicting emotions filled the soul of Henry Ware. If he spared
Timmendiquas it would cost the border many lives. The Wyandot chief
could never be anything but the implacable foe of those who were
invading the red man's hunting grounds. But Henry remembered that this
man had saved his life. He had spared him when he was compelled to run
the gantlet. The boy could not shoot.

"Go!" he said, lowering his rifle. "You gave me my life, and I give you
yours."

A sudden light glowed in the eyes of the young chief. There was
something akin in the souls of these two, and perhaps Timmendiquas alone
knew it. He raised one hand, gave a salute in the white man's fashion,
and said four words.

"I shall not forget."

Then he was gone in the forest, and Henry went back to the battle field,
where the firing had now wholly ceased. The white victory was complete.
Many Indians had fallen. Their losses here and at the river had been so
great that it would be long before they could be brought into action
again. But the rene