since they had left the camp, and they
came to a little brook. As Henry crossed it he distinctly saw the
impression of a moccasined foot in the soft soil of the bank. It could
not be more than an hour old.

"Look there!" he said to Larkin and Cazotte. "See the proof of what I
have told you. An Indian has passed here this very afternoon."

Larkin glanced at the trace in the soft earth and shook his head
dubiously.

"Do you call that the footprint of a man?" he asked. "It may be, but I
can't make it out. It might have been put there by some animal."

Henry frowned. These men would not be convinced. But he said nothing
more and continued to lead the way. Before him lay a stretch of thick
wood with matted undergrowth, and beyond this, as he had discovered when
scouting with Shif'less Sol in the morning, was the prairie on which
they might find the buffalo.

This thicket opened and received them, the bushes closing up behind them
in such compact order that nothing could be seen ten yards away. But
Henry's eyes caught the glimpse of something to their right. It was the
feather of an eagle, the second that he had seen that day, but it was
thrust upright, and it adorned the head of a living warrior.

"Down! Down at once!" he cried, and, seizing the careless Larkin, he
fairly hurled him to the earth. At the same instant a dozen rifles
crackled among the bushes. The light-hearted Frenchman fell stone dead,
a bullet through his head, and two more men were wounded. A bullet had
grazed Larkin's shoulder, burning like the sting of a hornet, and, wild
with pain and anger, he sprang again to his feet.

Henry had felt all along that the party was in his care, and he was
resolved to save Larkin from his own folly. He also sprang up, seized
the big man and dragged him down a second time. But as he sank into the
concealment of the bushes he felt a blow upon the side of his head. It
was like the light tap of a hammer, and for a second or two he thought
nothing of it. Then his knees grew weak and his sight dim, and he knew
that he was hit badly.

"Run, run!" he cried to Larkin. "The way by which we came is yet open
and we may escape! It's the only chance!"

Larkin glanced back. He had been foolish, but he was no coward.

"You're hit and we won't leave you!" he exclaimed.

"Go on! go on!" cried Henry, summoning up his energy with a great effort
of the will. "I'll look out for myself! Run!"

His tone was so compelling that Larkin