ad of the band.

He was the swiftest runner in the war party, chosen specially by
Timmendiquas for an important duty, and Henry knew very well the nature
of his errand. The Wyandot village now lay not far away, and Thraintonto
sped ahead, a messenger, to tell that the war party had achieved
victory, and was approaching with the proof of it.

He watched the figure of Thraintonto dart away and then disappear, a
flash of brown in the green wilderness. He knew that The Fox was filled
with the importance of his mission. None could be more welcome to an
Indian.

The band resumed its march after the brief stop, now proceeding in
leisurely fashion through a beautiful country, magnificently wooded and
abounding in game. Little brooks of clear fresh water, the
characteristic of the Ohio Valley, abounded everywhere. They were never
a half mile from one, and now and then they came to a large creek. Henry
was quite sure that they would soon reach the river that received all
these creeks.

They stopped two or three hours later, and went through a solemn rite.
Brushes and paint were produced--everything had been arranged for in
advance--and all the members of the band were painted grotesquely. Red,
blue, and yellow figures were depicted upon their faces, shoulders, and
chests. Not a square inch of exposed skin was left without its pictorial
treatment. Then every man put on a beautiful headdress of white feathers
taken from different birds, and, when all was done, they formed in
single file again, with Timmendiquas, in place of Anue, now at their
head. The chief himself would lead the victorious band to the village,
which was certainly near at hand.

The advance was resumed. It was not merely a return. It partook in its
nature of a triumphal progress, like some old festival of the Greeks or
Ph[oe]nicians. They came presently to a cedar tree, and from this White
Lightning broke a branch, upon which he hung the two scalps that they
had taken. Then, bearing the branch conspicuously in his right hand, he
advanced and began a slow monotonous chant. All the warriors took up the
chant, which had little change save the rising and falling of the note,
and which, like most songs of savages, was plaintive and melancholy.

Henry, who, as usual, followed the broad brown back of Hainteroh,
observed everything with the keenest attention. He was all eyes and
ears, knowing that any detail learned now might be of value to him
later.

They cross