he massive chin cut as clearly as if
they had been carved in copper. The man who had laid aside a wet blanket
was bare now to the waist, and Henry could see the powerful muscles play
on chest and shoulders as he moved.

The boy knew him. It was Timmendiquas, the great White Lightning of the
Wyandots, the youngest, but the boldest and ablest of all the Western
chiefs. Henry's pulses leaped a little at the sight of his old foe and
almost friend. As always, he felt admiration at the sight of the
young chief. It was not likely that he would ever behold such another
magnificent specimen of savage manhood.

The presence of Timmendiquas so far east was also full of significance.
The great fleet under Adam Colfax, and with Henry and his comrades in
the van, had reached Pittsburgh at last. Thence the arms, ammunition,
and other supplies were started on the overland journey for the American
army, but the five lingered before beginning the return to Kentucky.
A rumor came that the Indian alliance was spreading along the entire
frontier, both west and north. It was said that Timmendiquas, stung to
fiery energy by his defeats, was coming east to form a league with the
Iroquois, the famous Six Nations. These warlike tribes were friendly
with the Wyandots, and the league would be a formidable danger to the
Colonies, the full strength of which was absorbed already in the great
war.

But the report was a new call of battle to Henry, Shif'less Sol, and the
others. The return to Kentucky was postponed. They could be of greater
service here, and they plunged into the great woods to the north and,
east to see what might be stirring among the warriors.

Now Henry, as he looked at Timmendiquas, knew that report had told
the truth. The great chief would not be on the fringe of the Iroquois
country, if he did not have such a plan, and he had the energy and
ability to carry it through. Henry shuddered at the thought of the
tomahawk flashing along every mile of a frontier so vast, and defended
so thinly. He was glad in every fiber that he and his comrades had
remained to hang upon the Indian hordes, and be heralds of their
marches. In the forest a warning usually meant the saving of life.

The rain ceased after a while, although water dripped from the trees
everywhere. But the big fire made an area of dry earth about it, and the
warriors replaced the long boat in the water. Then all but four or five
of them lay beside the coals and went to s