e they lighted no fires, despite a cold night wind
that searched them through until they wrapped themselves in their
blankets.

The night settled down thick and dark, and the band lay close in the
thickets. Shif'less Sol was within a yard of Henry. He had observed
his young leader's face closely that day, and he had a mind of uncommon
penetration.

"Henry," he whispered, "you're hopin' that you'll find Braxton Wyatt an'
his band at Little Beard's town?"

"That among other things," replied Henry in a similar whisper.

"That first, and the others afterwards," persisted the shiftless one.

"It may be so," admitted Henry.

"I feel the same way you do," said Shif'less Sol. "You see, we've knowed
Braxton Wyatt a long time, an' it seems strange that one who started out
a boy with you an' Paul could turn so black. An' think uv all the cruel
things that he's done an' helped to do. I ain't hidin' my feelin's. I'm
jest itchin' to git at him."

"Yes," said Henry, "I'd like for our band to have it out with his."

Henry and Shif'less Sol, and in fact all of the five, slept that night,
because Henry wished to be strong and vigorous for the following
night, in view of an enterprise that he had in mind. The rosy Dutchman,
Heemskerk, was in command of the guard, and he revolved continually
about the camp with amazing ease, and with a footstep so light that it
made no sound whatever. Now and then he came back in the thicket and
looked down at the faces of the sleeping five from Kentucky. "Goot
boys," he murmured to himself. "Brave boys, to stay here and help. May
they go through all our battles and take no harm. The goot and great God
often watches over the brave."

Mynheer Cornelius Heemskerk, native of Holland, but devoted to the new
nation of which he had made himself a part, was a devout man, despite a
life of danger and hardship. The people of the woods do not lose faith,
and he looked up at the dark skies as if he found encouragement there.
Then he resumed his circle about the camp. He heard various noises-the
hoot of an owl, the long whine of a wolf, and twice the footsteps of
deer going down to the river to drink. But the sounds were all natural,
made by the animals to which they belonged, and Heemskerk knew it.
Once or twice he went farther into the forest, but he found nothing to
indicate the presence of a foe, and while he watched thus, and beat up
the woods, the night passed, eventless, away.

They went the next da