ent direction, approached him, and Henry felt sure that they were
of the party of Timmendiquas. They had followed him in some manner,
perhaps by chance, and it behooved Mm now to lie close.

A third warrior joined them and they began to examine the ground. Henry
realized that it was much lighter. Keen eyes under such a starry sky
could see much, and they might strike his trail. The fear quickly became
fact. One of the warriors, uttering a short cry, raised his head and
beckoned to the others. He had seen broken twigs or trampled grass, and
Henry, knowing that it was no time to hesitate, sprang from his covert.
Two of the warriors caught a glimpse of his dusky figure and fired, the
bullets cutting the leaves close to his head, but Henry ran so fast that
he was lost to view in an instant.

The boy was conscious that his position contained many elements of
danger. He was about to have another example of the tenacity and
resource of the great young chief of the Wyandots, and he felt a certain
anger. He, did not wish to be disturbed in his plans, he wished to
rejoin his comrades and move farther east toward the chosen lands of
the Six Nations; instead, he must spend precious moments running for his
life.

Henry did not now flee toward the camp of his friends. He was too wise,
too unselfish, to bring a horde down upon them, and he curved away in a
course that would take him to the south of them. He glanced up and saw
that the heavens were lightening yet more. A thin gray color like a mist
was appearing in the east. It was the herald of day, and now the Indians
would be able to find his trail. But Henry was not afraid. His anger
over the loss of time quickly passed, and he ran swiftly on, the fall of
his moccasins making scarcely any noise as he passed.

It was no unusual incident. Thousands of such pursuits occurred in
the border life of our country, and were lost to the chronicler. For
generations they were almost a part of the daily life of the frontier,
but the present, while not out of the common in itself, had, uncommon
phases. It was the most splendid type of white life in all the
wilderness that fled, and the finest type of red life that followed.

It was impossible for Henry to feel anger or hate toward Timmendiquas.
In his place he would have done what he was doing. It was hard to give
up these great woods and beautiful lakes and rivers, and the wild life
that wild men lived and loved. There was so much chivalry