d followed. But they did not take the middle of
the stream. Theirs was not a large force which could move rapidly,
fearing nothing. Instead, they clung close to the eastern shore, in the
shadow of the bank and trees, and rowed forward at an even pace, which
they slackened only at the curves, lest they plunge suddenly into a
hostile force.

About midnight they heard faintly the splash of the paddles, and then
they drew in again among the bushes at the bank, where they decided to
remain for the rest of the night. Henry was to watch about three hours
and Shif'less Sol would be on guard afterward. The four wrapped
themselves in their blankets, lay down in the bottom of the boat, and
were sound asleep in a few minutes. Henry, rifle across his knees,
crouched in the stern. Now that he did not have the exercise of the
oars, the night felt cold, and he drew his own blankets over his
shoulders.

Henry expected no danger, but he watched closely, nevertheless. Nothing
could have passed on the stream unnoticed by him, and every sound on the
bank above would have attracted his attention at once. Despite the fact
that they were about to embark upon a new task attended by many dangers,
the boy felt a great peace. In the perilous life of the wilderness he
had learned how to enjoy the safety and physical comfort of the moment.
He looked down at his comrades and smiled to himself. They were merely
dark blurs on the bottom of the boat, sleeping soundly in their
blankets. What glorious comrades they were! Surely no one ever had
better.

Henry himself did not move for a long time. He leaned against the side
of the boat, and the blanket remained drawn up about his neck and
shoulders. The rifle across his knee was draped by the same blanket, all
except the steel muzzle. Only his face was uncovered, but his eyes never
ceased to watch. The wind was blowing lightly through the trees and
bushes, and the current of the river murmured beside the boat, all these
gentle sounds merging into one note, the song of the forest that he
sometimes heard when he alone was awake--he and everything else being
still.

Henry's mind was peaceful, imaginative, attentive to all the wonders of
the forest, beholding wonders that others could not see, and the song
went on, the gentle murmur of the river fusing and melting into the wind
among the leaves. While he watched and listened, nothing escaping him,
his mind traveled far, down the great rivers, through the m