y close among the bushes. Not
only did he watch the forest on the other shore, but all his senses were
keenly alert. For a distance of a full half mile none of the Indians
could cross the river unseen by him, but, in case they went farther and
made the passage he relied upon his ears to warn him of their approach.

For a time nothing stirred. Boughs, bushes and leaves were motionless
and the gold on the surface of the river grew deeper under the rising
sun. Blackstaffe, after the fall of Chaska, was now commander of the
seven heralds, who were but six, and at his word the Indians too were
lying close, for the soul of Blackstaffe, the renegade, was disturbed.
The bullet that had slain Chaska had come from the rifle of a
sharpshooter. Chaska had exposed himself for only an instant and yet he
had been slain. Blackstaffe knew that few could fire with such swift and
deadly aim, but, before this, he had come into unpleasantly close
contact with some who could. His mind leaped at once to the conclusion
that the famous five were in front of him, and he was much afraid.

An hour passed. The beauty of the morning deepened. The river flowed, an
untarnished sheet, now of silver, now of gold as the light fell. Henry
crept some distance to the right, and then an equal distance to left. He
could not hear the movement of any enemy in front of him, and he
believed that they were all yet in the bushes on the other side of the
river. He returned to his old position and the duel of patience went on.
His eyes finally fixed themselves upon a large bush, the leaves of which
were moving. He took the pistol from his belt, cocked it, and put it
upon the rock in front of him. Then he slowly pushed forward the muzzle
of his long and beautiful Kentucky rifle.

It was certainly a duel to the death. No other name described it, and
hundreds of such have been fought and forgotten in the great forests of
North America. The Indian behind the bush was crafty and cunning, one of
the most skillful among the Shawnees. He had marked the spot where an
enemy lay, and was rising a little higher for a better look.

Henry had marked him, too, or rather the movement that was the precursor
of his coming, and when the Shawnee rose in the bush he raised a little
and fired. There was a terrific yell, a figure leaped up convulsively,
and then falling, disappeared. Five shots were fired at Henry, or rather
at the flame from his rifle, but he merely sank back a little,