eing them at their best, leading, amid abundance, the life to which
they had been born and which they loved. All, men, women and children,
ate until they could eat no more. Then they idled about, the sun
driving away the last of the snow and warming earth and air again. In a
cleared space the half-grown boys began to play ball with the
earnestness and vigor the Indians always showed in the game. The men,
full and content, sat on their blankets and looked on. Thus the morning
passed.

In the hours before noon Henry did not chafe. He rather enjoyed the
rest; but in the latter half of the day he grew impatient. He longed to
be up and away again, but there would be no chance to leave until night,
and he forced himself to lie still. He yet had no fear that any one
would come into the council room. Such chambers were little used, unless
the occasion was one of state.

The afternoon was warm. The cold and light snow of the night before had
been premature, and the vanguard of autumn returned to its normal state.
While many leaves had fallen, more remained, and the colors were deeper
and more vivid than ever. The whole forest burned with red fire. Through
a narrow opening among the trees Henry saw a small field, full of
ripened maize, with yellow pumpkins between the stalks. The sight made
him hungrier than ever for bread.

About the middle of the afternoon, the warriors who were lying on their
blankets rose suddenly and stood in an attitude of attention. They
seemed to be listening, rather than looking, and Henry strained his ears
also. He heard what appeared to be an echo, and then one of the warriors
in the village replied with a long, thrilling whoop that penetrated far
through the forest.

He divined at once that the pursuit was at hand, not because the
warriors had been led there by his trail, which in truth was invisible
now, but because some portion of the net they had spread out must in
time reach the village.

The whole population gathered in the cleared space where the fires had
burned and looked toward the southern forest. Henry, from his crack
between the poles, saw ripples of interest running among them, the
warriors exchanging sober comment with one another, the women and
children not hesitating to talk and chatter as in a white village when
visitors of interest were approaching. It was on the whole a bright and
animated picture, and he did not feel any hostility to a soul in that
lost little town in the wil