ne had lain down there and had rested a long time or
slept, perhaps both, and then had been able to rise again and go on.

The crushed grass showed plainly the imprint of the man's body, and the
somber stains were on either side of the impression. But the grass had
not been threshed about. The man, when he lay there, had scarcely moved.
Henry was in doubt what inference to draw. It was certain that Shif'less
Sol had not been feverish, or he might have lain in utter exhaustion.

As long as the grass lasted, its condition, broken or swept aside,
showed the trail, but when he came into the woods again it was lost.
There was no grass here and the ground was too hard. Nor did the lie of
the land itself offer any hint of Shif'less Sol's progress. It was all
level and one direction was no more inviting than another. Henry paused,
at a loss, but as he looked around his eyes caught a gleam of white. It
came from a spot on a hickory tree where the bark had been deftly
chipped away with a hatchet or a tomahawk, leaving the white body of the
tree, exposed for two or three square inches. Henry read it as clearly
as if it had been print. In fact, it was print to him, and he knew that
it had been so intended. Shif'less Sol had felt sure that Henry would
come back after his friend, and this was his sign of the road. Shif'less
Sol knew, too, that the attention of the tribes would be concentrated
upon the fort and the fleet, and the warriors would not be hunting at
such a time for a single atom like himself.

Henry found a second chipped tree, a third, and then a fourth. The four
made a line pointing northwestward, but more west than north. He was
quite sure now of the general direction that he must pursue, and he
advanced, the chipped trail leading deeper and deeper into a great
forest. At the crossing of another brook he looked for the somber sign,
but it was not there. Instead, a short distance farther on, he found
some tiny fragments of buckskin, evidently cut into such shape with a
sharp knife. Near them were several of the reddish stains, but much
smaller than any he had seen before.

It was again a book of open print to Henry, and now he felt a surge of
joyous feeling. Shif'less Sol had washed his wound at the brook back
there and he had stopped here to bind it up with portions of his
buckskin clothing, cutting the bandage with his sharp knife. The act
showed, so Henry believed, that he was gaining in strength, and when he
next