A warrior stood between him and the fire, outlined perfectly against the red light.It was a splendid figure, young, much beyond the average height, the erect and noble head crowned with the defiant scalplock, the strong, slightly curved nose and the massive chin cut as clearly as if they had been carved in copper.
The man who had laid aside a wet blanket was bare now to the waist, and Henry could see the powerful muscles play on chest and shoulders as he moved.
The boy knew him.It was Timmendiquas, the great White Lightning of the Wyandots, the youngest, but the boldest and ablest of all the Western chiefs.Henry's pulses leaped a little at the sight of his old foe and almost friend.As always, he felt admiration at the sight of the young chief.It was not likely that he would ever behold such another magnificent specimen of savage manhood.
The presence of Timmendiquas so far east was also full of significance.The great fleet under Adam Colfax, and with Henry and his comrades in the van, had reached Pittsburgh at last.
Thence the arms, ammunition, and other supplies were started on the overland journey for the American army, but the five lingered before beginning the return to Kentucky.A rumor came that the Indian alliance was spreading along the entire frontier, both west and north.It was said that Timmendiquas, stung to fiery energy by his defeats, was coming east to form a league with the Iroquois, the famous Six Nations.These warlike tribes were friendly with the Wyandots, and the league would be a formidable danger to the Colonies, the full strength of which was absorbed already in the great war.
But the report was a new call of battle to Henry, Shif'less Sol, and the others.The return to Kentucky was postponed.They could be of greater service here, and they plunged into the great woods to the north and, east to see what might be stirring among the warriors.
Now Henry, as be looked at Timmendiquas, knew that report had told the truth.The great chief would not be on the fringe of the Iroquois country, if be did not have such a plan, and he had the energy and ability to carry it through.Henry shuddered at the thought of the tomahawk flashing along every mile of a frontier so vast, and defended so thinly.He was glad in every fiber that he and his comrades had remained to hang upon the Indian hordes, and be heralds of their marches.In the forest a warning usually meant the saving of life.
The rain ceased after a while, although water dripped from the trees everywhere.But the big fire made an area of dry earth about it, and the warriors replaced the long boat in the water.
Then all but four or five of them lay beside the coals and went to sleep.Timmendiquas was one of those who remained awake, and Henry saw that he was in deep thought.He walked back and forth much like a white man, and now and then he folded his hands behind his back, looking toward the earth, but not seeing it.
Henry could guess what was in his mind.He would draw forth the full power of the Six Nations, league them with the Indians of the great valley, and hurl them all in one mass upon the frontier.He was planning now the means to the end.
The chief, in his little walks back and forth, came close to the edge of the bushes in which Henry lay, It was not at all probable that he would conclude to search among them, but some accident, a chance, might happen, and Henry began to feel a little alarm.
Certainly, the coming of the day would make his refuge insecure, and he resolved to slip away while it was yet light.
The boy rose a little in the boat, slowly and with the utmost caution, because the slightest sound out of the common might arouse Timmendiquas to the knowledge of a hostile presence.The canoe must make no plash in the water.Gradually he unwrapped the blanket and tied it in a folded square at his back.Then he took thought a few moments.The forest was so silent now that he did not believe he could push the canoe through the bushes without being heard.He would leave it there for use another day and go on foot through the woods to his comrades.
Slowly he put one foot down the side until it rested on the bottom, and then he remained still.The chief had paused in his restless walk back and forth.Could it be possible that he had heard so slight a sound as that of a human foot sinking softly into the water? Henry waited with his rifle ready.If necessary he would fire, and then dart away among the bushes.
Five or six intense moments passed, and the chief resumed his restless pacing.If he had heard, he had passed it by as nothing, and Henry raised the other foot out of the canoe.He was as delicate in his movement as a surgeon mending the human eye, and he had full cause, as not eye alone, but life as well, depended upon his success.Both feet now rested upon the muddy bottom, and he stood there clear of the boat.
The chief did not stop again, and as the fire had burned higher, his features were disclosed more plainly in his restless walk back and forth before the flames.Henry took a final look at the lofty features, contracted now into a frown, then began to wade among the bushes, pushing his way softly.This was the most delicate and difficult task of all.The water must not be allowed to plash around him nor the bushes to rustle as he passed.Forward he went a yard, then two, five, ten, and his feet were about to rest upon solid earth, when a stick submerged in the mud broke under his moccasin with a snap singularly loud in the silence of the night.
Henry sprang at once upon dry land, whence he cast back a single swift glance.He saw the chief standing rigid and gazing in the direction from which the sound had come.Other warriors were just behind him, following his look, aware that there was an unexpected presence in the forest, and resolved to know its nature.
