The Scouts of the Valley
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Henry saw that he was in deep thought. He walked back and forth
much like a white man, and now and then he folded his hands
behind his back, looking toward the earth, but not seeing it.
Henry could guess what was in his mind. He would draw forth the
full power of the Six Nations, league them with the Indians of
the great valley, and hurl them all in one mass upon the
frontier. He was planning now the means to the end.
The chief, in his little walks back and forth, came close to the
edge of the bushes in which Henry lay, It was not at all probable
that he would conclude to search among them, but some accident, a
chance, might happen, and Henry began to feel a little alarm.
Certainly, the coming of the day would make his refuge insecure,
and he resolved to slip away while it was yet light.
The boy rose a little in the boat, slowly and with the utmost
caution, because the slightest sound out of the common might
arouse Timmendiquas to the knowledge of a hostile presence. The
canoe must make no plash in the water. Gradually he unwrapped
the blanket and tied it in a folded square at his back. Then he
took thought a few moments. The forest was so silent now that he
did not believe he could push the canoe through the bushes
without being heard. He would leave it there for use another day
and go on foot through the woods to his comrades.
Slowly he put one foot down the side until it rested on the
bottom, and then he remained still. The chief had paused in his
restless walk back and forth. Could it be possible that he had
heard so slight a sound as that of a human foot sinking softly
into the water? Henry waited with his rifle ready. If necessary
he would fire, and then dart away among the bushes.
Five or six intense moments passed, and the chief resumed his
restless pacing. If he had heard, he had passed it by as
nothing, and Henry raised the other foot out of the canoe. He
was as delicate in his movement as a surgeon mending the human
eye, and he had full cause, as not eye alone, but life as well,
depended upon his success. Both feet now rested upon the muddy
bottom, and he stood there clear of the boat.
The chief did not stop again, and as the fire had burned higher,
his features were disclosed more plainly in his restless walk
back and forth before the flames. Henry took a final look at the
lofty features, contracted now into a frown, then began to wade
among the bushes, pushing his way softly. This was the most
delicate and difficult task of all. The water must not be
allowed to plash around him nor the bushes to rustle as he
passed. Forward he went a yard, then two, five, ten, and his
feet were about to rest upon solid earth, when a stick submerged
in the mud broke under his moccasin with a snap singularly loud
in the silence of the night.
Henry sprang at once upon dry land, whence he cast back a single
swift glance. He saw the chief standing rigid and gazing in the
direction from which the sound had come. Other warriors were
just behind him, following his look, aware that there was an
unexpected presence in the forest, and resolved to know its
nature.
Henry ran northward. So confident was he in his powers and the
protecting darkness of the night that he sent back a sharp cry,
piercing and defiant, a cry of a quality that could come only
from a white throat. The warriors would know it, and he intended
for them to know it. Then, holding his rifle almost parallel
with his body, he darted swiftly away through the black spaces of
the forest. But an answering cry came to his, the Indian yell
taking up his challenge, and saying that the night would not
check pursuit.
Henry maintained his swift pace for a long time, choosing the
more open places that he might make no noise among the bushes and
leaves. Now and then water dripped in his face, and his
moccasins were wet from the long grass, but his body was warm and
dry, and he felt little weariness. The clouds were now all gone,
and the stars sprang out, dancing in a sky of dusky blue.
Trained eyes could see far in the forest despite the night, and
Henry felt that he must be wary. He recalled the skill and
tenacity of Timmendiquas. A fugitive could scarcely be trailed
in the darkness, but the great chief would spread out his forces
like a fan and follow.
He had been running perhaps three hours when he concluded to stop
in a thicket, where he lay down on the damp grass, and rested
with his head under his arm.
His breath had been coming a little faster, but his heart now
resumed its regular beat. Then he heard a soft sound, that of
footsteps. He thought at first that some wild animal was
prowling near, but
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