child reappeared.

"It feels a lot better now," said Tom Ross. "So do I."

They came to another camp fire, at which the ashes were not yet cold.
Feathers were scattered about, indicating that the Indians had taken
time for a little side hunt, and had shot some birds.

"They can't be more than two or three hours ahead," said Henry, "and
we'll have to go on now very cautiously."

They were in a country of high hills, well covered with forests, a
region suited to an ambush, which they feared but little on their own
account; but, for the sake of extreme caution, they now advanced slowly.
The afternoon was long and warm, but an hour before sunset they looked
over a hill into a glade, and saw the warriors making camp for the
night.

The sight they beheld made the pulses of the five throb heavily. The
Indians had already built their fire, and two of them were cooking
venison upon it. Others were lying on the grass, apparently resting,
but a little to one side sat a woman, still young and of large, strong
figure, though now apparently in the last stages of exhaustion, with her
feet showing through the fragments of shoes that she wore. Her head was
bare, and her dress was in strips. Four children lay beside her' the
youngest two with their heads in her lap. The other two, who might be
eleven and thirteen each, had pillowed their heads on their arms, and
lay in the dull apathy that comes from the finish of both strength
and hope. The woman's face was pitiful. She had more to fear than the
children, and she knew it. She was so worn that the skin hung loosely on
her face, and her eyes showed despair only. The sad spectacle was almost
more than Paul could stand.

"I don't like to shoot from ambush," he said, "but we could cut down
half of those warriors at our firs fire and rush in on the rest."

"And those we didn't cut down at our first volley would tomahawk the
woman and children in an instant," replied Henry. "We agreed, you know,
that it would be sure to happen. We can't do anything until night comes,
and then we've got to be mighty cautious."

Paul could not dispute the truth of his words, and they withdrew
carefully to the crest of a hill, where they lay in the undergrowth,
watching the Indians complete their fire and their preparations for the
night. It was evident to Henry that they considered themselves perfectly
safe. Certainly they had every reason for thinking so. It was not likely
that white enemies were with