n
might beat upon his face, and then crouched beside him, absolutely
motionless, but missing nothing that the keenest eye or ear might
detect. It was a contest of patience, and the white youth brought to
bear upon it both the red man's training and his own.

A half hour passed, and within that small area there was no sound but
the beat of the rain on the leaves and the sticky earth. Perhaps the
warrior thought he had been deceived; it was merely an illusion of the
night that he thought he saw; or if he had seen anyone the man was now
gone, creeping away through the undergrowth. He stirred among his own
bushes, raised up a little to see, and gave his enemy a passing glimpse
of his face. But it was enough; a rifle bullet struck him between the
eyes and the wilderness fighter lay dead in the forest.

Henry bestowed not a thought on the slain warrior, but, lifting up Paul
once more, continued on his wide curve, as if nothing had happened. No
one interrupted him again, and after a while he was parallel with the
line of fire. Then he passed around it and came to rocky ground, where
he laid Paul down and chafed his hands and face. The wounded boy opened
his eyes again, and, with returning strength, was now able to keep them
open.

"Henry!" he said in a vague whisper.

"Yes, Paul, it is I," Henry replied quietly.

Paul lay still and struggled with memory. The rain was now ceasing, and
a few shafts of moonlight, piercing through the clouds, threw silver
rays on the dripping forest.

"The battle!" said Paul at last. "I was firing and something struck me.
That was the last I remember."

He paused and his face suddenly brightened. He cast a look of gratitude
at his comrade.

"You came for me?" he said.

"Yes," replied Henry, "I came for you, and I brought you here."

Paul closed his eyes, lay still, and then at a ghastly thought, opened
his eyes again.

"Are only we two left?" he asked. "Are all the others killed? Is that
why we are hiding here in the forest?"

"No," replied Henry, "we are holding them off, but we decided that it
was wiser to retreat. We shall join our own people in the morning."

Paul said no more, and Henry sheltered him as best he could under the
trees. The wet clothing he could not replace, and that would have to be
endured. But he rubbed his body to keep him warm and to induce
circulation. The night was now far advanced, and the distant firing
became spasmodic and faint. After a while it cease