ed. It tinged the forest with a fiery
mist, reminding the unhappy group of all that they had seen. But the
mist was gone in a few moments, and then the blackness of night came
with a weird moaning wind that told of desolation. Most of the children,
having passed through every phase of exhaustion and terror, had fallen
asleep. Some of the women slept, also, and others wept. But the terrible
wailing note, which the nerves of no man could stand, was heard no
longer.

The five gathered again at a point near by, and Carpenter came to them.

"Men," he said simply, "don't know much about you, though I know you
fought well in the battle that we lost, but for what you're doin' now
nobody can ever repay you. I knew that I never could get across the
mountains with all these weak ones."

The five merely said that any man who was a man would help at such a
time. Then they resumed their march in a perpetual circle about the
camp.

Some women did not sleep at all that night. It is not easy to conceive
what the frontier women of America endured so many thousands of times.
They had seen their husbands, brothers, and sons killed in the battle,
and they knew that the worst of torture had been practiced in the Indian
camp. Many of them really did not want to live any longer. They merely
struggled automatically for life. The darkness settled down thicker and
thicker; the blackness in the forest was intense, and they could see the
faces of one another only at a little distance. The desolate moan of the
wind came through the leaves, and, although it was July, the night grew
cold. The women crept closer together, trying to cover up and protect
the children. The wind, with its inexpressibly mournful note, was
exactly fitted to their feelings. Many of them wondered why a Supreme
Being had permitted such things. But they ceased to talk. No sound at
all came from the group, and any one fifty yards away, not forewarned,
could not have told that they were there.

Henry and Paul met again about midnight, and sat a long time on a
little hillock. Theirs had been the most dangerous of lives on the most
dangerous of frontiers, but they had never been stirred as they were
tonight. Even Paul, the mildest of the five, felt something burning
within him, a fire that only one thing could quench.

"Henry," said he, "we're trying to get these people to Fort Penn, and
we may get some of them there, but I don't think our work will be ended
them. I don't thi