nder
water as long as he could, and just as he was coming to the surface he
heard and saw the explosion.

The two scows and the canoe seemed to leap into the air in the center of
a volcano of light, and then all three came down in a rain of hissing
and steaming fragments. The crash was stunning, and the light for a
moment or two was intense. Then it sank almost as suddenly and again
came the darkness, in which Henry heard the steaming of burning wood,
the turmoil of riven waters and the shouts of warriors filled with
surprise and alarm.

It was easy in all the confusion for him to reach the bank, recover his
arms and speed into the forest. He had forged with complete success
every link in his chain of destruction. The scows intended for the
transportation of the cannon were blown to splinters, and while they
might lash enough canoes together to sustain their weight, they must
move slowly and at much risk.

Although he was dripping with water, Henry was supremely happy. When he
undertook this feat he had believed that he would succeed, but looking
back at it now it seemed almost incredible. But here he was, and the
deed was done. He laughed to himself in silent pleasure. Wyatt,
Blackstaffe and the others would undoubtedly trace it to him and his
comrades, and he hoped they would. He was willing for them to know that
the five were not only on watch but could act with terrific effect.

A half-mile away from the river and he heard a long fierce yell, uttered
by many voices in unison. He knew they had picked up at the edge of the
stream the tale that he had not sought to hide, and were hoping now for
revenge upon the one who had cost them so much. But he laughed once more
back of his teeth. In the darkness they might as well try to follow a
bird of the air. He curved away, reached one of the numerous brooks
intersecting the stream, and ran for a long time in its bed. Then he
emerged, passed into a dense canebrake and stopped, where he took off
his wet clothing and spread it out in the dark to dry. The blanket which
he had left on the bank with his arms was warm and dry and he wrapped it
around his body. Then he lay down with his weapons by his side.

The satisfied blood ran swiftly and proudly in the veins of the great
forest runner. He had done other deeds as bold, but perhaps none as
delicate as this. It had demanded a complete combination of courage and
dexterity and perfect timing. A second more or less might have r