he
shadow in his eyes deepened. Henry and the horses, loaded with powder for
the needy settlement, must be somewhere near, but whether to right or left
he could not tell. He had gone to look for water, and when he undertook to
return he merely went deeper and deeper into the forest. Now the boughs,
as they nodded before the gentle breeze, seemed to nod to him in derision.
He felt shame as well as alarm. Henry would not laugh at him, but the born
scholar would be worth, for the time, at least, far less than the born
trailer.

Yet no observer, had there been any, would have condemned Paul as he
condemned himself. He stood there, a tall, slender boy, with a broad, high
brow, white like a girl's above the line of his cap, blue eyes, dark and
full, with the width between that indicates the mind behind, and the firm,
pointed chin that belongs so often to people of intellect.

Paul and Henry were on their way from Wareville, their home, with horses
hearing powder for Marlowe, the nearest settlement, nearly a hundred miles
away. The secret of making powder from the nitre dust on the floors of the
great caves of Kentucky had been discovered by the people of Wareville,
and now they wished to share their unfailing supply with others, in order
that the infant colony might be able to withstand Indian attacks. Henry
Ware, once a captive in a far Northwestern tribe, and noted for his great
strength and skill, had been chosen, with Paul Cotter, his comrade, to
carry it. Both rejoiced in the great task, which to them meant the saving
of Kentucky.

Paul's eyes were apt at times to have a dreamy look, as if he were
thinking of things far away, whether of time or place; but now they were
alive to the present, and to the forest about him. He listened intently.
At last he lay down and put his ear to the earth, as he had seen Henry do;
but he heard nothing save a soft, sighing sound, which he knew to be only
the note of the wilderness. He might have fired his rifle. The sharp,
lashing report would go far, carried farther by its own echoes; but it was
more likely to bring foe than friend, and he refrained.

But he must try, if not one thing, then another. He looked up at the
heavens and studied the great, red globe of the sun, now going slowly
down the western arch in circles of crimson and orange light, and then he
looked hack at the earth. If he had not judged the position of the sun
wrong, their little camp lay to the right, and he would