as inevitable
where human beings were so few, and the skies and the forest were so
immense, that he should feel the greatness of nature and draw his
symbols from it. He wondered in a vague sort of way on which of the
bright stars Manitou dwelt, and if on all of them there were hunting
grounds like those in which he and his comrades roved.

He watched with his ears, that is, he listened for the sound of anything
that might be moving in the forest, but he kept his eyes on the high
heavens. His thoughts were solemn, but not at all sad. He could see much
in the Indian belief of the happy hunting grounds in which strong, brave
warriors would roam forever. It appealed to him as a very wise and
wholesome belief, and he asked no better hereafter than to roam such
forests himself through eternity with those who were dear to him.

Some clouds gathered in the southwest, and a faint, far rumble came to
his ears. "Baimwana (thunder)," he murmured, speaking almost
unconsciously in Iroquois, a little of which he had learned long ago. He
was sorry. Rain would not be pleasant, particularly for the two who were
not yet fully recovered from their wounds. But the thunder did not come
again, the clouds passed, and he knew there would be no rain.

A wind, gentle and musical, began to blow. "Wabun (the East Wind)," he
murmured. He personified the winds, because it was in his nature to do
so, and because the Indians with whom he had dwelt did it. It was this
gift of his, based on a powerful imagination, that now made him hear the
human voice once more in the wind. It was a low voice, but penetrating,
thrilling him in every nerve, and its note was hope. He had heard it
before at crises of his life, and its prophecy had not failed to come
true. Nor did he believe that it would do so now.

The wind shifted. "Kabibanokka (the North Wind)," he murmured. But the
note was unchanged. It was still a voice that brought courage. They
would find Jim and Paul, and the fleet and the fort alike would triumph.

He heard, soon, light sounds in the bush, but they were not the
footsteps of enemies. He knew it because he had heard them all before. A
tawny beast came down through the grass, but halted at a respectful
distance. Henry caught a glimpse of one yellow eye, and he felt a sort
of amused sorrow for the panther. The rightful owner of this house had
been driven out, as Tom Ross confessed, and he was there not far away
looking reproachfully at the robber