as if the
black tragedy had never happened, but the frontiersmen recognized their
greatest danger in this brilliant morning. Objects could be seen at a
great distance, and they could be seen vividly.

Keen of sight and trained to know what it was they saw, Henry, Sol, and
Tom searched the country with their eyes, on all sides. They caught a
distant glimpse of the Susquehanna, a silver spot among some trees, and
they saw the sunlight glancing off the opposite mountains, but for the
present they saw nothing that seemed hostile.

They allowed the distance between them and the retreating file to grow
until it was five or six hundred yards, and they might have let it grow
farther, but Henry made a signal, and the three lay down in the grass.

"You see 'em, don't you!" the youth whispered to his comrade.

"Yes, down thar at the foot o' that hillock," replied Shif'less Sol;
"two o' em, an' Senecas, I take it."

"They've seen that crowd of women and children," said Henry.

It was obvious that the flying column was discovered. The two Indians
stepped upon the hillock and gazed under their hands. It was too far
away for the three to see their faces, but they knew the joy that would
be shown there. The two could return with a few warriors and massacre
them all.

"They must never get back to the other Indians with their news,"
whispered Henry. "I hate to shoot men from ambush, but it's got to be
done. Wait, they're coming a little closer."

The two Senecas advanced about thirty yards, and stopped again.

"S'pose you fire at the one on the right, Henry," said Tom, "an' me an'
Sol will take the one to the left."

"All right," said Henry. "Fire!"

They wasted no time, but pulled trigger. The one at whom Henry had aimed
fell, but the other, uttering a cry, made off, wounded, but evidently
with plenty of strength left.

"We mustn't let him escape! We mustn't let him carry a warning!" cried
Henry.

But Shif'less Sol and Tom Ross were already in pursuit, covering the
ground with long strides, and reloading as they ran. Under ordinary
circumstances no one of the three would have fired at a man running for
his life, but here the necessity was vital. If he lived, carrying the
tale that he had to tell, a hundred innocent ones might perish. Henry
followed his comrades, reloading his own rifle, also, but he stayed
behind. The Indian had a good lead, and he was gaining, as the others
were compelled to check speed somewhat as t