honks out of the air and swam in the same direction. He knew
that presently they would rise again and fly into the far south,
escaping the fierce winter of the north.

The great fishing birds also wheeled and circled over the stream, and
now and then one shot downward for its prey. On the opposite shore two
deer pushed their bodies through the bushes and drank at the river's
edge. On his own shore the puffing of a bear in the woods came to his
ears. Evidently he had come from a region bare of game into a land of
plenty.

The wild geese rose with a suddenness he had not anticipated and sped
southward in a long arrow, outlined sharply against the sky. The great
fishing birds silently disappeared, and Henry was alone on the river. He
knew that the quick flight of his feathered friends was not due to
chance. Undoubtedly man was coming, and he crouched low in his canoe,
with his rifle ready.

CHAPTER XIV

THE WATCHFUL SQUIRREL

Henry saw about what he expected to see, two long canoes, containing a
dozen or more warriors each, with the Shawnee chief, Red Eagle, and
Braxton Wyatt in the first and Yellow Panther, the Miami chief, and
Blackstaffe in the second. Chiefs and renegades and warriors alike swept
the shore with questing eyes, but they did not see the one for whom they
had looked so long lying so near, and yet hidden so well among the
reeds.

He watched them without apprehension. He had full confidence in the veil
about him, and he expected them to pass on in the relentless hunt. They,
too, looked worn, and he fancied that the eyes of chiefs and renegades
expressed disappointment and deep anger. Nobody in the long canoes
spoke, and, silent save for the plashing of the paddles they went on and
out of sight.

Henry might have taken to the woods now, but he was too wary. He wished
to remain on the element that left no trail, and he felt also that he
had walked and run long enough. He intended to travel now chiefly with
the strength of his arms, and the longer he stayed in the canoe the
better he liked it. Its store of provisions was fine, and it was easier
to carry them in it than on his back. So he waited with the patience
that every true forest runner has, and saw the morning merge into the
afternoon.

It was almost evening when the long canoes came back, passing his
covert. They had found the quest vain, and concluding, doubtless, that
they had gone too far, were returning to look elsewhere. But the