awnee warriors, their footsteps making no
noise, came through the woods on the other side, and looked at the
beaver pool.

CHAPTER XV

THE LETTER

Henry was quite sure that the beaver king had given him a direct
warning, and he never liked afterward to disturb or impair the belief,
and, moreover, he was so alive with gratitude that it was bound to be
so. Lying perfectly still in the depths of the thicket he watched the
Indians, powerful warriors, who, nevertheless, showed signs of strain
and travel. Doubtless they had come from the edge of the lake itself,
and he believed suddenly, but with all the certainty of conviction, that
they were following him. They were on the back trail, which, in some
unexplained manner, they had struck merely to lose again. Chance had
brought them to opposite sides of the pond, but he alone had received
the warning.

They stood at the water's edge three or four minutes, looking at the
beaver houses and talking, although Henry was too far away to understand
what they said. He knew they would not remain long, but what they did
next was of vital moment to him. If they should chance to come his way
he would have to spring up and run for it, but if they went by another
he might lie still and think out his problem.

The leader gave a word of command, and, dropping into the usual single
file, they marched silently into the south. Henry lay on the north side
of the pool, and when the last of the warriors was out of sight, he rose
and walked back to his canoe, which he must now reluctantly abandon. He
could not think of continuing on the water when he had proof of the eye
that many warriors were in the woods about the creek.

The canoe had served him well. It had saved him often from weariness,
and sometimes from exhaustion, but dire need barred it now. He put on
the painted coat, made the blankets and provisions into a pack which he
fastened on his back, hid the light craft among weeds and bushes at the
creek's margin, and then struck off at a swift pace toward the west and
south.

While bands would surely follow him, he did not believe the Indian hosts
could be got together again for his pursuit and capture. After their
great failure in the flight and pursuit northward they would melt away
largely, and winter would thin the new chase yet more. His thought now
was less of the danger from them than of his four brave comrades from
whom he had been separated so long and whom he was anx