so tense, so eager and so
earnest that Henry ceased to doubt, the man's whole appearance indicated
the knowledge of danger, present and terrible.

Even as Henry looked, Ross suddenly threw up his rifle, and, apparently
without aim, pulled the trigger. A flash of fire leaped from the long
slender muzzle of blue steel, there was a sharp report like the swift
lash of a whip, and then a cry, so terrible that Henry, strong as he
was, shuddered in every nerve and muscle. The short high-pitched and
agonizing shout died away in a wail and after it came silence, grim,
deadly, but so charged with mysterious suspense that both Henry and Paul
felt the hair lifting itself upon their heads. Henry had seen nothing,
but he knew well what had happened.

"They've come and Ross has killed one of 'em," he whispered breathlessly
to Paul.

"That yell couldn't mean anything else," said Paul trembling. "I'll hear
it again every night for a year."

"I hope we'll both have a chance to hear it again every night for a
year," said Henry with meaning.

The master crouched nearer to the boys. He was one of the bravest of the
men and in that hour of danger and suspense his heart yearned over these
two lads, his pupils, each a good boy in his own way. He felt that it
was a part of his duty to get them safely back to Wareville and their
parents, and he meant to fulfill the demands of his conscience.

"Keep down, lads," he said, touching Henry on his arm, "don't expose
yourselves. You are not called upon to do anything, unless it comes to
the last resort."

"We are going to do our best, of course, we are!" replied Henry with
some little heat.

He resented the intimation that he could not perform a man's full duty,
and Mr. Pennypacker, seeing that his feelings were touched, said no
more.

A foreboding silence followed the death cry of the fallen warrior, but
the brilliant sunshine poured down on the woods, just as if it were a
glorious summer afternoon with no thought of strife in a human breast
anywhere. Henry again searched the forest in front of them, and,
although he could see nothing, he was not deceived now by this
appearance of silence and peace. He knew that their foes were there,
more thirsty than ever for their blood, because to the natural desire
now was added the tally of revenge.

More than an hour passed, and then the forest in front of them burst
into life. Rifles were fired from many points, the sharp crack blending
into one