know what they felt and his eyes gleamed with pride out of his darkly
painted face. He laughed again a low laugh, not like that of the white
man, but the almost inaudible chuckle of the Indian.

"It had to be," he said, glancing down at his garb though not with
shame. "To do what I wished to do, it was necessary to pass as an
Indian, at least between times, and, as all the Shawnees do not know
each other, this helped."

"It was you who shot the Indians in the tree; I knew it from the first,"
said the voice of the guide, Ross, over their shoulders. He had come so
softly that they did not notice him before.

Henry did not reply, but laughed again the dry chuckle that made Lucy
tremble she scarcely knew why, and ran his hand lovingly along the
slender barrel of his rifle.

"At least you do not complain of it," he said presently.

"No, we do not," replied Ross, "an' I guess we won't. You saved us,
that's sure. I've lived on the border all my life, but I never saw such
shootin' before."

Then Henry gave some details of his work and Lucy Upton, watching him
closely, saw how he had been engrossed by it. Paul Cotter too noticed,
and feeling constraint, at least, demanded that Henry doff his savage
disguise, put on white men's clothes and get something to eat.

He consented, though scarce seeing the necessity of it, but kept the
Indian blanket close to hand, saying that he would soon need it again.
But he was very gentle with his mother telling her that she need have no
fear for him, that he knew all the wiles of the savage and more; they
could never catch him and the outside was his place, as then he could be
of far more service than if he were merely one of the garrison.

The news of Henry Ware's return was throughout the village in five
minutes, and with it came the knowledge of his great deed. In the face
of such a solid and valuable fact the vague charge that he was a
renegade died. Even Braxton Wyatt did not dare to lift his voice to that
effect again, but, with sly insinuation, he spoke of savages herding
with savages, and of what might happen some day.

When night came Henry resuming his Indian garb and paint slipped out
again, and so skillful was he that he seemed to melt away like a mist in
the darkness.

The savage army beleaguering the colony now found that it was assailed
by a mysterious enemy, one whom all their vigilance and skill could not
catch. They lost warrior after warrior and many of them began t