e trees. He went nearer and saw detached cones of light. Then he knew
that it was a camp fire, and a camp fire built there boldly in that
region, so dangerous to the Kentuckian, indicated that it was surely the
Indians themselves and their allies. He did not believe that it was the
force of Timmendiquas which could only have reached this spot by turning
from its course, but he intended to solve the doubt.

The camp was in one of the little prairies so numerous in the old
Northwest, and evidently had been pitched there in order to secure room
for the fires. Henry concluded at once that it must be a large force,
and his eagerness to know increased. As he crept nearer and nearer, he
was amazed by the number of the fires. This was a much larger band than
the one led by Timmendiquas. He also heard the sound of many voices and
of footsteps. From his place among the trees he saw dark figures passing
and repassing. He also caught now and then a metallic glitter from
something not a rifle or a tomahawk, but which he could not clearly make
out in the dark.

This was a formidable force bent upon some great errand, and his
curiosity was intense. The instinct that had sent him upon the journey
through the woods was not wrong, and he did not mean to go away until he
knew for what purpose this army was gathered. He lay upon the ground in
the thickest shadow of the woods, and crept forward a little closer.
Then he saw that the camp contained at least five hundred warriors. As
nearly as he could make out they were mostly Shawnees, probably from the
most easterly villages, but there seemed to be a sprinkling of Delawares
and Miamis. White men, Tories, Canadians and English, fifty or sixty in
number were present also and a few of them were in red uniform.

All the Indians were in war paint, and they sat in great groups around
the fires feasting. Evidently the hunters had brought in plenty of game
and they were atoning for a fast. They ate prodigiously of buffalo,
deer, bear and wild turkey, throwing the bones behind them when they had
gnawed them clean. Meanwhile they sang in the Shawnee tongue a wild
chant:

To the South we, the great warriors, go
To the far, fair land of Kaintuckee;
We carry death for the Yengees,
Our hands are strong, our hearts are fierce;
None of the white face can escape us.

We cross the river and steal through the woods;
In the night's dark hour the tomahawk falls,
The burnin