ey passed near
Henry in single file, the sub-chief at the head and Blackstaffe in the
rear, and he noticed then that they carried supplies as if for a long
journey. Their faces were turned toward the Northwest.

Timmendiquas and Girty stood for a moment, watching the men, then turned
back and were lost among the lodges. But Henry rose from his covert and,
hidden among the bushes, came to a rapid conclusion. He knew the
significance of wampum belts and he could guess why these seven men had
departed so swiftly. They were heralds of war. They were on their way to
the far northwest tribes, in order that they might bring them to the
gathering of the savage clans for the invasion of Kentucky.

Henry felt a powerful impulse, an impulse that speedily became a
conviction. Every delay and every reduction of force was a help to the
white men and white women and children down below the Ohio. A week of
time, or the difference of twenty warriors might be their salvation. He
must turn back the messengers, and he must do it with his single hand.
How he longed for the help of the brave and resourceful Shif'less Sol.
But he was a mile away, somewhere in the dark woods and Henry could not
delay. The seven heralds were speeding toward the Northwest, at a pace
that would soon take them far beyond his reach, unless he followed at
once.

Dropping his rifle in the hollow of his arm he swung in behind them. One
could not pick up a trail in dense woods at night, but he had observed
their general direction, and he followed them so swiftly that within a
half hour he saw them, still traveling in Indian file, the chief as
before at the head of the line and Blackstaffe at the rear. The moon had
now faded a little, and the light over the forest turned from silver to
gray. Many of the stars had withdrawn, but on sped the ghostly
procession of seven. No, not of seven only, but of eight, because behind
them at a distance of two hundred yards always followed a youth of great
build, and of wilderness instinct and powers that none of them could
equal.

Chaska, the sub-chief, the Shawnee who led, was an eager and zealous
man, filled with hatred of the white people who had invaded the hunting
grounds of his race. He was anxious to bring as many warriors as he
could to their mighty gathering, even if he had to travel as far as the
farthest and greatest of the Great Lakes. Moreover he was swift of foot,
and he did not spare himself or the others that night