t the least possible precaution to hide all traces of footsteps,
and he knew that he had left a trail invisible like that of a bird
through the air. There were many able warriors among the Shawnees and
Miamis, but if they found him at all it must be by currying the maze as
if with a comb, and not by following directly in his path.

A ravine that he was following led a little distance up the slope, and
then another crossed it at right angles. A small stream, rising above,
flowed down the first ravine, and he resolved that he would not go far
from it, as he could not lie long in hiding without water. The smaller
cross ravine, which was pretty well choked with briars and bushes, ended
under an overhanging stony ledge, and here he stopped.

As the place had a floor of dead leaves and was sheltered well he
thought it likely that in some former time it had been a den of a large
wild beast, but it could not have been put to such a use recently, as
there was no odor. He was thankful that he had found the ledge. It would
protect him from any rain except one driven fiercely into the face of it
by the wind, and, if it came to the last resort and he had to make a
fight, it would prove a formidable little fortress.

Having located his refuge he went back to the stream and took a long,
deep drink of the water, which was cold and good. Then he returned to
the ledge and lay down in its shadow, his eyes on the briars and bushes,
through which alone one could approach.

He saw a few coarse hairs in the crevices of the rocks and he was
confirmed in his opinion that it had once been a lair. Perhaps the
original owner would return to it and claim it while he was there, and
Henry smiled at the thought of the meeting. It would not be easy to
displace him. The feeling that he too was wild, a creature of the
forest, was growing upon him. He was hunted like one and he began to
display their characteristics, lying perfectly still, facing the opening
and ready to strike, the moment a foe appeared. However dangerous may
have been the wild beast that once lived under the ledge it was far less
formidable than its successor.

Henry was at his ease, watching the briars and bushes and with his rifle
thrust forward a little, but a sort of cold rage grew upon him. It was
the rage that a fierce animal must feel, when hunted beyond endurance,
it turns at last. He rather hoped that one or two of their scouts would
appear and try to force the ravine. They