the door open for a while. When the
cool, fresh air rushed in he breathed it in great draughts and felt
relieved. He admired Timmendiquas. He respected the Wyandots. He could
not blame the Indian who fought for his hunting grounds, but, with all
the strength of his strong nature, he despised and hated every renegade.

That evening, after old Heno had gone, he sought for the first time to
slip or break his bonds. He wanted to get away. He wanted to rejoin his
comrades and the fleet. He wanted to help them prepare for the new
dangers. But strain as he might with all his great strength, and twist
as he would with all his ingenuity, he could not get free. He gave it up
after a while and lay on his rush mat in a state of deep depression. It
seemed that the Wyandots, cunning and agile, flower of the red men,
would give him no chance.

He had asked Heno to leave the door of the lodge partly open a while
longer that he might have plenty of fresh air, and the old warrior had
done so. He heard faint noises from the village, but bye and bye they
ceased, and Henry at last fell asleep.

Deep in the night he heard a musical sound, a small note but clear and
sweet. It reached him easily, although it seemed to come from the forest
four or five hundred yards away, and it spoke in almost audible tones,
telling him to be of good faith, that what he wished would come to pass.
It was the wind among the leaves again, something mystical but almost
human to him. It was the third time that it had sung to him, once in
warning, twice in hope, and the depression that he had felt when he laid
down vanished utterly. A deep sense of peace and content pervaded his
whole being. It was a peace of the senses and mind alike, driving away
all trouble either for the present or the future.

He was called to deeper rest. The voice of the forest still sang to him,
becoming softer and softer and fainter and fainter, and the feeling of
absolute content was overwhelming. He did not seek to move, but
permitted himself, as if under an opiate, to drift away into a far
slumberland, while the note from the forest sank to nothing.

When he awoke the next morning he did not know whether he had really
heard or had merely dreamed.

CHAPTER V

PLAY AND COUNCIL

Henry was still a prisoner in the lodge when the purification of
Timmendiquas was finished. He had been permitted to go forth now and
then under a strong guard, but, no matter how closely he watche