t once, where the others cannot hear."

Tom Ross and Dick Salter, old friends, were already shaking hands. Henry
Ware glanced at the emigrants pressing forward in a great crowd, and
sympathy and tenderness showed in his eyes as he looked at the eager,
childish faces so numerous among them.

"Will you keep them back?" he said to Daniel Poe. "I must speak to you
where none of those can hear."

Daniel Poe waved away the crowd, and then took a step forward.

"We have come," said Henry Ware, in low, intense tones, "to warn you that
you are going to be attacked by a great force of warriors, furnished by
the league of the northwestern tribes. They mean that you shall never
reach Wareville or Marlowe, to double the strength of those settlements.
They would have laid an ambush for you, but we have been among them and we
know their plans."

A shiver ran through the stalwart frame of Daniel Poe--a shiver of
apprehension, not for himself, but for the five hundred human lives
intrusted to his care. Then he steadied himself.

"We can fight," he said, "and I thank you for your warning; I cannot doubt
its truth."

"We will stay with you," said Henry Ware. "We know the signs of the
forest, and we can help in the battle that is sure to come, and also
before and after."

His voice was full of confidence and courage, and it sent an electric
thrill through the veins of Daniel Poe. Henry Ware was one of those
extraordinary human beings whose very presence seems to communicate
strength to others.

"We'll beat 'em off," said Daniel Poe sanguinely.

"Yes, we'll beat 'em off," said Henry Ware. Then he continued: "You must
tell all the men, and of course the women and children will hear of if,
but it's best to let the news spread gradually."

Daniel Poe went back with the messengers to the wagons, and soon it was
known to everybody that the Indians were laying an ambush for them all.
Some wails broke forth from the women, but they were quickly suppressed,
and all labored together to put the camp in posture of defense. The
strangers were among them, cheering them, and predicting victory if
battle should come. Paul, in particular, quickly endeared himself to them.
He was so hearty, so full of jests, and he quoted all sorts of scraps of
old history bearing particularly upon their case, and showing that they
must win if attacked.

"There was a race of very valiant people living a very long, long time
ago," he said, "who always made the