e veil,
driven by the wind. The brown leaves rustled and fell before them, and
the appearance of the forest, that had been glowing in color an hour or
two before, suddenly became wintry and chill. The advance of twilight
made the wilderness all the more somber, and Henry's anxiety increased.
He must find shelter for the night somewhere, and he did not yet know
where.

He came out upon the crest of a low ridge, and searched the forest with
his eyes, hopeful that he might find again a rocky hollow equipped with
dead leaves, or even a windrow matted with bushes and vines, but he saw
neither. He beheld instead, and to his great surprise, a smoke in the
north, a smoke that must be large or it would not be so plain in the
dusk. He studied it, and finally came to the conclusion that it marked
the presence of an Indian village. This region was not known to him, but
as obviously it was a splendid hunting ground it was not at all strange
that he should come upon such a town.

It was Indian smoke, but it beckoned to him, because there was warmth
beneath it. It was not likely to be a large village, but the skin lodges
and the log cabins perhaps would give ample protection against snow and
cold. In every age, whether stone, cave or golden, man had to have
something over his head on winter nights, and Henry, acting upon his
usual belief that boldness was the best policy, went straight toward the
village. He had some sort of an idea that he might pilfer the
hospitality of his enemies. That would be a great joke upon them, and
the more he thought of it the better he liked it.

He used the last precaution as he approached. He was quite sure that the
village stood in the woods, and he did not really fear anything except
the stray curs usually found around Indian homes. But none barked as he
drew near and he began to believe that his luck would find the place
without them. Presently he saw the lights of two or three fires
glimmering through the bushes, and then he came to a heap of bones,
those of buffalo, wild turkey, deer, bear and every other kind of game,
like one of the kitchen middens of ancient man in Europe. He drew at
once the conclusion that the village, though small, was as nearly
permanent as an Indian village could be.

He went closer. Nobody sat by the fire. Apparently there was no watch,
which was not strange, as here in the heart of their own country no
enemy was likely to come. He counted fourteen lodges, four small l