out and give the alarm with their barking. But he believed that the
probabilities were against it. This, so he thought then, was a war or
hunting camp, and it was likely that the Indians would leave the dogs
at their permanent villages. At any rate he would take the risk, and
he drew slowly toward the oak opening, where some Indians stood about.
Beyond them, in another dip of the valley, was a wider opening which
he had not seen on his first trip, and this contained not only bark
shelters, but buildings that indicated a permanent village. The second
and larger opening was filled with a great concourse of warriors.

Fortunately the foliage around the opening was very dense, many trees
and thickets everywhere. Henry crept to the very rim, where, lying in
the blackest of the shadows, and well hidden himself, he could yet see
nearly everything in the camp. The men were not eating now, although it
was obvious that the hunters had done well. The dressed bodies of deer
and bear hung in the bark shelters. Most of the Indians sat about the
fires, and it seemed to Henry that they had an air of expectancy. At
least two hundred were present, and all of them were in war paint,
although there were several styles of paint. There was a difference
in appearance, too, in the warriors, and Henry surmised that
representatives of all the tribes of the Iroquois were there, coming to
the extreme western boundary or fringe of their country.

While Henry watched them a half dozen who seemed by their bearing and
manner to be chiefs drew together at a point not far from him and talked
together earnestly. Now and then they looked toward the forest, and
he was quite sure that they were expecting somebody, a person of
importance. He became deeply interested. He was lying in a dense clump
of hazel bushes, flat upon his stomach, his face raised but little above
the ground. He would have been hidden from the keenest eye only ten feet
away, but the faces of the chiefs outlined against the blazing firelight
were so clearly visible to him that he could see every change of
expression. They were fine-looking men, all of middle age, tall, lean,
their noses hooked, features cut clean and strong, and their heads
shaved, all except the defiant scalp lock, into which the feather of
an eagle was twisted. Their bodies were draped in fine red or blue
blankets, and they wore leggins and moccasins of beautifully tanned
deerskin.

They ceased talking presently, and