Maybe," said Henry.

"And it is a good show, too. Ah, I thought he would go that time; but
look how quickly and delicately he righted himself. Such skill is truly
marvelous!"

"It is," said Henry, who was watching the canoe and its occupant with an
interest even greater than that of de Peyster. Up at the far corner of
the palisade a sentinel was walking back and forth, his rifle on his
shoulder, and at the other end another was doing likewise. Three or four
officers off duty had also mounted the palisade and were watching the
Indian's exhibition of skill.

Suddenly the warrior turned the canoe in toward the palisade at the
point where the unfinished pier ran out toward the river. Raising
himself on the canoe he uttered the long weird cry of the wolf, the same
that had come more than once from the depths of the Canadian woods.

Then an extraordinary thing occurred. De Peyster was standing on the
platform nearest the unfinished pier. Henry suddenly seized him by the
shoulders, thrust him down as if he were shot, ran along the platform
and down the unfinished pier at his utmost speed. De Peyster was on his
feet in an instant, and both sentinels on the alert, raised their rifles
to take aim.

Henry did not check his speed for a second. A marvelous power, born of
great strength and a great spirit, infused his whole frame. He rushed to
the end of the pier, and concentrating his whole strength in one mighty
effort, he leaped.

Never before had Detroit seen such a leap. The long body shot outward,
the arms thrown parallel with the head, pointing toward the water. It
was many feet from the head of the unfinished pier to the river, a leap
that seemed superhuman, but Henry had the advantage of the run down the
incline and the bracing of every nerve for the supreme effort. After he
sprang, and for the few brief moments that he was cutting the air, he
was scarcely conscious of what was passing, but he heard the crack of a
rifle, and a bullet whizzing by him zip-zipped upon the surface of the
water. One of the sentinels, exceeding alert, had fired instantly, but
the other, finger on trigger, waited. Colonel de Peyster also drew a
pistol and waited. Low cries, half of admiration, came from most of
those on the battlements. The warrior in the canoe shot his little craft
nearer in shore and then dropped gently over the far side. The canoe
moved slowly down stream but its recent occupant was invisible.

Henry, flying like an arro