himself, as he had proved over and over again, and the two together
could achieve the impossible. Moreover, the rest of his comrades were
near. He felt that the God of the white man, the Manitou of the red man,
had been kind to him, and he was grateful.

"Do you think we ought to try the signal for the others now, Sol?" he
asked.

"Not now. I'm shore that they're too fur off to hear. Ef the Injuns
heard us signalin' so much they'd come down on us hot-foot."

"Just what I was thinking," said Henry. "Suppose we push on a few miles,
wait a while and then send out the cry."

"Good enough," said the shiftless one.

They advanced three or four miles and then stopped in a dense cluster of
hickory saplings, where they waited. Within the thicket they could see
to some distance on either side, while they themselves lay hidden. Here
they talked now and then in low voices, and Shif'less Sol, although he
did not speak of his feelings, was very happy. He had believed all the
time that Henry would escape, but believing is not as good as knowing.

"You shorely had a pow'ful interestin' time in the Wyandot village,
Henry," he said, "an' that chief, White Lightning--I've heard o' him
afore--'pears to hev been good to you. What did you say his Injun name
wuz?"

"Timmendiquas. That means Lightning in Wyandot, and our people have
tacked on the word 'white.' He's a great man, Sol, and I think we're
going to meet him again."

"Looks likely. I don't blame him for puttin' up sech a pow'ful good
fight fur the huntin' grounds, 'though they look to me big enough for
all creation. Do you know, Henry, I hev sometimes a kind o' feelin' fur
the Injuns. They hev got lots o' good qualities. Besides, ef they're
ever wiped out, things will lose a heap o' variety. Life won't be what
it is now. People will know that thar scalps will be whar they belong,
right on top o' thar heads, but things will be tame all the time. O'
course, it's bad to git into danger, but thar ain't nothin' so joyous ez
the feelin' you hev when you git out o' it."

The night advanced, very clear and pleasantly cool. They had heard
occasional rustlings in the thicket, which they knew were made by the
smaller wild animals, taking a look, perhaps, at those curious guests of
theirs and then scuttling away in fright. Now absolute stillness had
come. There was no wind. Not a twig moved. It seemed that in this
silence one could hear a leaf if it fell.

Then Henry sent forth the