ne.
The siege broken, and reunited, they could pursue the main force and the
cannon with speed.

The great revulsion made their sleep easy and untroubled. Not one of
them stirred as he lay beneath the covering made by the ancient
hurricane, and every one of them breathed long and deep.

Nature was watching over them while they slept. They belonged to the
forest, and the forest was taking care of its own. The rain increased
and it was driven harder by the wind, but folded in their blankets they
remained snug, while their clothing dried upon them. A bear that had
hibernated there, fleeing from the rain sought his own den, but he was
driven away by the man smell. A bedraggled panther had an idea of taking
the same shelter, but he too was repelled in like manner.

The forest watched over its own not only through the night but after the
sun rose. Braxton Wyatt and his warriors, consumed with rage, could find
no sign of a trail. They had entered the cavern and seized upon the
portions of venison left there, although the rifle escaped their notice,
and then they had begun the vain pursuit. Long before day they gave it
up, and started after the main army.

It had been Henry's intention to sleep only the two hours until dawn,
but the relaxation, coming after immense exertions and anxieties, kept
him and all the others sound asleep long after the dripping forest was
bathed in sunlight. It was a bright ray of the same sunlight entering
through a crevice and striking him in the eye that awakened him. He
looked at his comrades. They were so deep in slumber that not one of
them stirred.

He heard a light swift sound overhead and saw that it was a gray
squirrel running along their roof. Then came a song, pure and sweet,
that thrilled through the forest. It was sung by a small gray bird
perched on a vine almost directly over Henry's head, and he wondered
that such a volume of music could come from such a tiny body.

The squirrel and the bird together told him that nothing unusual was
stirring in the forest. If warriors were near that morning song would
not be poured forth in such a clear and untroubled stream. The bird was
their warder, their watchman, and he told them that it was sunrise and
all was well. Feeling the utmost confidence in the small sentinel, and
knowing that they needed more strength for the pursuit, Henry closed his
eyes and went to sleep again.

The little gray bird was the most redoubtable of sentinels. Eith