nd, as soon as his nerves settled into their normal
condition, he slept.

He awoke before noon, and the morning was still frosty and cold. Yet the
wilderness was more beautiful than ever. The frost had merely deepened
its colors. While many dead leaves had fallen, myriads remained, and
they had taken on more intense and glowing tints. The air had all the
purity and tonic of an American autumn. The light winds were the breath
of life itself.

He ate the last of the deer, and then he found bunches of wild grapes,
small and bitter sweet, but refreshing. Later in the day he must secure
game, though he still felt averse to shooting anything, since the
creatures of the forest had saved him more than once. But in the end it
would come to it.

It was a rolling country, and, walking to the crest of the highest
ridge, he examined it in all directions. He saw only the great forest in
its reds and yellows and browns, and he was alone in it, its uncrowned
king, if he chose to call himself so.

Although the country was new to him, Henry believed that he was about
two hundred and fifty miles north of the Ohio and in the region
inhabited by the warlike northwestern tribes. Several of their great
villages must lie not very far to the east of him, and he smiled at the
thought that he was leading the pursuit back to the homes of the
pursuers. He wondered what his comrades were doing, but he believed that
they would remain in the swamp, or near it, until he came back.

Not knowing what else to do, he moved northward again, and presently
heard a low, monotonous sound, which after a little listening he decided
to be Indian squaws chanting. Further listening convinced him that there
were only two voices, and he approached cautiously among the trees.

Two Indian women, one quite young and the other quite old, were cooking
by the side of a small brook, in which they had evidently been washing
deerskin clothing earlier in the day, as it now lay drying on the bank.
Probably they were the wife and mother of some warrior preparing for his
return from the hunt. Henry took little interest in the deerskins they
had washed, but his attention was concentrated quickly upon their
cooking.

They were broiling a fat, juicy wild turkey. He had an especially tender
tooth for wild turkey, particularly when it was young and fat. It, more
than anything else, was his staff of life, and now he set covetous eyes
upon the one that was broiling over the coals