ow place, where they forded
it, and buried themselves again in the dark forest. They passed among
its shades swiftly, silently and in single file, Henry near the middle
of the column, his figure in the dusk blending into the brown of theirs.
He had completely recovered his strength, and, save for the separation
from his friends and their consequent wonder and sorrow, he would not
have grieved over the mischance. Instinct told him--perhaps it was his
youth, perhaps his ready adaptability that appealed to his captors--that
his life was safe--and now he felt a keen curiosity to know the outcome.
It seemed to him too that without any will of his own he was about to
begin the vast wanderings that he had coveted.

Hour after hour the silent file trod swiftly on into the northwest, no
one speaking, their footfalls making no sound on the soft earth. The
moonlight deepened again, and veiled the trunks and branches in ghostly
silver or gray. By and by it grew darker and then out of the blackness
came the first shoot of dawn. A shaft of pale light appeared in the
east, then broadened and deepened, bringing in its trail, in terrace
after terrace, the red and gold of the rising sun. Then the light swept
across the heavens and it was full day.

They were yet in the forest and the dawn was cold. Here and there in the
open spaces and on the edges of the brown leaves appeared the white
gleam of frost. The rustle of the woods before the western wind was
chilly in the ear. But Henry was without sign of fatigue or cold. He
walked with a step as easy and as tireless as that of the strongest
warrior in the band, and at all times he held himself, as if he were one
of them, not their prisoner.

About an hour after dawn the party which numbered fifteen men halted at
a signal from the chief and began to eat the dried meat of the buffalo,
taken from their pouches. They gave him a good supply of the food, and
he found it tough but savory. Hunger would have given a sufficient sauce
to anything and as he ate in a sort of luxurious content he studied his
captors with the advantage of the daylight. The full sunshine disclosed
no more of softness and mercy than the night had shown. The features
were immobile, the eyes fixed and hard, but when the gaze of any one of
them, even the chief, met the boy's it was quickly turned. There was
about them something furtive, something of the lower kingdom of the
animals. That inherited primitive instinct, recentl