heard the horrible growling again, and
shouts, but he was not sure. Too much had impinged upon his mind for him
to distinguish between fancy and reality yet awhile, but a powerful
feeling that another miracle had been wrought in his behalf seized upon
him and would not let go. The wolves, whether it was chance or not so
far as they were concerned, had come in time and their giant leader
himself had cut down the warrior who was about to cleave the fugitive's
head with his tomahawk.

The Indians would stop, appalled, and for a while would be overwhelmed
with superstition. But he knew that the paralyzing spell could not last
long. Blackstaffe and Wyatt at least would urge them on, and it was for
him to use the time that had been granted to him by miraculous chance.

When exhaustion came he had will enough to stop again and remain quite
still until the fierce pains in his chest ceased and there was air for
his lungs once more. He was sure of a quarter of an hour, and a forest
runner such as he could do wonders in that space. A quarter of an hour
meant for him the difference between life and death, and although his
feet strove of their own accord to go on, his mind held them back at
least twothirds of the time. Then he allowed his body to have its way,
and he went down the valley not at a run, but a prudent walk, in order
to give his lungs, heart and muscles a chance for further recovery.

The valley seemed to be about a quarter of a mile wide, heavily
forested, and with a small creek flowing down the center. The hills that
walled it in on either side were high and steep, and Henry thought it
would be wiser to take to them, but, for the present, he did not feel
like making the climb. He was not willing to put any check upon the new
store of strength that was flooding his veins.

Ten minutes more and he heard a fierce whoop behind him. The Indians
evidently had driven off the wolves, and, under the insistence of the
renegades, would renew the pursuit. Another momentary sinking of his
heart came. The numbers of the warriors, who could spread out in every
direction, many of whom were yet comparatively fresh, were an obstacle
that he could not overcome. The wolves had brought delay, but not
escape.

Then his courage came back, not slowly or gradually, but like a leaping
tide. He had seen only half of the new miracle. While he thought it
finished, the other half was coming, was upon hunted and hunters even
now. The veil of m