and clear stream, and it was beautiful to every one of the
five. Much of their course lay along the Susquehanna, and soon they
saw signs of a more extended cultivation than any that was yet to be
witnessed in Kentucky. From the brow of a little hill they beheld a
field of green, and in another field a man plowing.

"That's wheat," said Tom Ross.

"But we can't leave the man to plow," said Henry, "or he'll never
harvest that wheat. We'll warn him."

The man uttered a cry of alarm as five wild figures burst into his
field. He stopped abruptly, and snatched up a rifle that lay across
the plow handles. Neither Henry nor his companions realized that their
forest garb and long life in the wilderness made them look more like
Indians than white men. But Henry threw up a hand as a sign of peace.

"We're white like yourselves," he cried, "and we've come to warn you!
The Iroquois and the Tories are marching into the valley!"

The man's face blanched, and he cast a hasty look toward a little wood,
where stood a cabin from which smoke was rising. He could not doubt on a
near view that these were white like himself, and the words rang true.

"My house is strong," he said, "and I can beat them off. Maybe you will
help me."

"We'd help you willingly enough," said Henry, "if this were any ordinary
raiding band, but 'Indian' Butler, Brant, and Queen Esther are coming at
the head of twelve or fifteen hundred men. How could we hold a house, no
matter how thick its walls, against such an army as that? Don't hesitate
a moment! Get up what you can and gallop."

The man, a Connecticut settler-Jennings was his name-left his plow in
the furrow, galloped on his horse to his house, mounted his wife and
children on other horses, and, taking only food and clothing, fled to
Stroudsburg, where there was a strong fort. At a later day he gave Henry
heartfelt thanks for his warning, as six hours afterward the vanguard
of the horde burned his home and raged because its owner and his family
were gone with their scalps on their own heads.

The five were now well into the Wyoming Valley, where the Lenni-Lenape,
until they were pushed westward by other tribes, had had their village
Wy-wa-mieh, which means in their language Wyoming. It was a beautiful
valley running twenty miles or more along the Susquehanna, and about
three miles broad. On either side rose mountain walls a thousand feet in
height, and further away were peaks with mists and vapors aro