ning was advancing, and the hours were as
precious to the fugitives as to the Iroquois. The probabilities were
that the revengeful enemies would soon be on their track, and the whites
had but to remain where they were a short time longer to fall into their
hands.

At the moment the noise of the conflict between the Indians ceased,
Lena-Wingo, who had maintained the standing position from the first,
moved off in a southerly course, looking around as a signal for his
companions to follow him. They were heading toward the range of
mountains which bounded the Wyoming valley on the southeast, and which
loomed up dark and frowning in the gray mist of the early morning.

This route led them over cultivated ground and through woods, where it
seemed to the whites they might halt and find all the shelter they could
need. But the Mohawk pressed straight on, his destination being the
mountains themselves. The guide of the party kept away from the
cultivated portions of the valley as much as possible, for it was
dangerous to approach any body of men, or the places where they were
likely to be found. Lena-Wingo was in his own territory, and it was his
intention to manage the business without asking for or accepting any
suggestions from his friends.

The company had advanced something like a half mile when the morning was
fairly upon them--another of those clear, mild summer days common to
this latitude at that season of the year. They were approaching rising
ground, and soon began ascending to a higher level than that which they
had been treading for some time. The Indian still stuck to the forest,
for he felt a confidence in its shadows such as the open country could
not afford.

While progressing in this manner it was noticed by the youths that he
led them over as rough and stony paths as possible, and that at the same
time he stepped as carefully as he knew how--no doubt with the purpose
of hiding their tracks from the too curious Iroquois.

Lena-Wingo evinced no objections to his companions talking together as
they picked their way along, provided they kept their voices below
"concert pitch"--a precaution which they were sure to remember, in view
of what they had passed through so recently. For all that, the Mohawk
advanced with a confidence which at times resembled recklessness, and
Ned Clinton more than once was on the point of remonstrating with him.
But he held his peace, through fear of offending him. The journey was
c