crawling, but by a curious, noiseless, gliding motion, almost like
that of a serpent. Always he clung to the shadows where his shifting
body still blended with the dark, and as he advanced other primitive
instincts blazed up in him. He was a hunter pursuing for the first time
the highest and most dangerous game of all game and the thrill through
his veins was so keen that he shivered slightly. His chin was projected,
and his eyes were two red spots in the night. All the while his comrades
by the fire, even the trained foresters, slumbered in peace, no warning
whatever coming to their heavy heads.

The boy reached the wall of the woods, and now his form was completely
swallowed up in the blackness there. He lay a while in the bushes,
motionless, all his senses alert, and for the third time the jarring
note came to his ears. The maker of it was on his right, and, as he
judged, perhaps a couple of hundred yards away. He would proceed at once
to that point. It is truth to say that no thought of danger entered his
mind; the thrills of the present and its chances absorbed him. It seemed
natural that he should do this thing, he was merely resuming an old
labor, discontinued for a time.

He raised his head slightly, but even his keen eyes could see nothing in
the forest save trunks and branches, ghostly and shapeless, and the
regular rustle of the wind was not broken now by the jarring note. But
the darkness heavy and ominous, was permeated with the signs of things
about to happen, and heavy with danger, a danger, however, that brought
no fear to Henry for himself, only for others. A faint sighing note as
of a distant bird came on the wind, and pausing, he listened intently.
He knew that it was not a bird, that sound was made by human lips, and
once more a light shiver passed over his frame; it was a signal,
concerning his comrades and himself, and he would turn aside the danger
from those old friends of his who slept by the fire, in peace and
unknowing.

He resumed his cautious passage through the undergrowth, and, the
inherited instinct blossoming so suddenly into full flower, was still
his guide. Not a sound marked his advance, the forest fell silently
behind him, and he went on with unerring knowledge to the spot from
which the discordant sounds had come.

He approached another opening among the trees, like unto that in which
his comrades slept, and now, lying close in the undergrowth, he looked
for the first time upon