The Scouts of the Valley
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had come. Gazing through the thicket, he saw an Indian warrior
walking among the trees, looking searchingly about him as if he
were a scout. Another, coming from a different direction,
approached him, and Henry felt sure that they were of the party
of Timmendiquas. They had followed him in some manner, perhaps
by chance, and it behooved Mm now to lie close.
A third warrior joined them and they began to examine the ground.
Henry realized that it was much lighter. Keen eyes under such a
starry sky could see much, and they might strike his trail. The
fear quickly became fact. One of the warriors, uttering a short
cry, raised his head and beckoned to the others. He had seen
broken twigs or trampled grass, and Henry, knowing that it was no
time to hesitate, sprang from his covert. Two of the warriors
caught a glimpse of his dusky figure and fired, the bullets
cutting the leaves close to his head, but Henry ran so fast that
he was lost to view in an instant.
The boy was conscious that his position contained many elements
of danger. He was about to have another example of the tenacity
and resource of the great young chief of the Wyandots, and he
felt a certain anger. He, did not wish to be disturbed in his
plans, he wished to rejoin his comrades and move farther east
toward the chosen lands of the Six Nations; instead, he must
spend precious moments running for his life.
Henry did not now flee toward the camp of his friends. He was
too wise, too unselfish, to bring a horde down upon them, and he
curved away in a course that would take him to the south of them.
He glanced up and saw that the heavens were lightening yet more.
A thin gray color like a mist was appearing in the east. It was
the herald of day, and now the Indians would be able to find his
trail. But Henry was not afraid. His anger over the loss of
time quickly passed, and he ran swiftly on, the fall of his
moccasins making scarcely any noise as be passed.
It was no unusual incident. Thousands of such pursuits occurred
in the border life of our country, and were lost to the
chronicler. For generations they were almost a part of the daily
life of the frontier, but the present, while not out of the
common in itself, had, uncommon phases. It was the most splendid
type of white life in all the wilderness that fled, and the
finest type of red life that followed.
It was impossible for Henry to feel anger or hate toward
Timmendiquas. In his place he would have done what he was doing.
It was hard to give up these great woods and beautiful lakes and
rivers, and the wild life that wild men lived and loved. There
was so much chivalry in the boy's nature that he could think of
all these things while he fled to escape the tomahawk or the
stake.
Up came the sun. The gray light turned to silver, and then to
red and blazing gold. A long, swelling note, the triumphant cry
of the pursuing warriors, rose behind him. Henry turned his head
for one look. He saw a group of them poised for a moment on the
crest of a low hill and outlined against the broad flame in the
east. He saw their scalp locks, the rifles in their hands, and
their bare chests shining bronze in the glow. Once more he sent
back his defiant cry, now in answer to theirs, and then, calling
upon his reserves of strength and endurance, fled with a speed
that none of the warriors had ever seen surpassed.
Henry's flight lasted all that day, and he used every device to
evade the pursuit, swinging by vines, walking along fallen logs,
and wading in brooks. He did not see the warriors again, but
instinct warned him that they were yet following. At long
intervals he would rest for a quarter of an hour or so among the
bushes, and at noon he ate a little of the venison that he always
carried. Three hours later he came to the river again, and
swimming it he turned on his course, but kept to the southern
side. When the twilight was falling once more he sat still in
dense covert for a long time. He neither saw nor heard a sign of
human presence, and he was sure now that the pursuit had failed.
Without an effort he dismissed it from his mind, ate a little
more of the venison, and made his bed for the night.
The whole day had been bright, with a light wind blowing, and the
forest was dry once more. As far as Henry could see it circled
away on every side, a solid dark green, the leaves of oak and
beech, maple and elm making a soft, sighing sound as they waved
gently in the wind. It
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