d their tired limbs. No fire was lighted, but they
sat there under the trees, hungrily eating their venison, and talking in
the lowest of whispers.

Mr. Pennypacker was much dissatisfied. He had been troubled by the hasty
flight and his dignity suffered.

"It is not becoming that white men should run away from an inferior
race," he said.

"Maybe it ain't becomin', but it's safe," said Ross.

"At least we are far enough away now," continued the master, "and we
might rest here comfortably until dawn. We haven't seen or heard a sign
of pursuit."

"You don't know the natur' of the red warriors, Mr. Pennypacker," said
the leader deferentially but firmly, "when they make the least noise
then they're most dangerous. Now I'm certain sure that they struck our
trail not long after we left Big Bone Lick, an' in these woods the man
that takes the fewest risks is the one that lives the longest."

It was a final statement. In the present emergency the leader's
authority was supreme. They rested about an hour with no sound save the
shuffling feet of the horses which could not be kept wholly quiet; and
then they started on again, not going so quickly now, because the night
was dark, and they wished to make as little noise as possible, threshing
about in the undergrowth.

Paul pressed up by the side of Henry.

"Do you think we shall have to go on all night, this way?" he asked.
"Wasn't Mr. Pennypacker right, when he said we were out of danger?"

"No, the schoolmaster was wrong," replied Henry. "Tom Ross knows more
about the woods and what is likely to happen in them than Mr.
Pennypacker could know in all his life, if he were to live a thousand
years. It's every man to his own trade, and it's Tom's trade that we
need now."

After hearing these sage words of youth Paul asked no more questions,
but he and Henry kept side by side throughout the night, that is, when
neither of them was riding, because Henry, like all the others, now took
turns on horseback. Twice they crossed small streams and once a larger
one, where they exercised the utmost caution to keep their precious salt
from getting wet. Fortunately the great pack saddles were a protection,
and they emerged on the other side with both salt and powder dry.

When the night was thickest, in the long, dark hour just before the
dawn, Henry and Paul, who were again side by side, heard a faint,
distant cry. It was a low, wailing note that was not unpleasant,
softened by the s