"And that's a good deal of a man, six feet four, at least," said Paul.

"It's true," repeated Long Jim. "I'm like one uv them thar Greek demiG.o.ds Paul tells about. Now an' then I change myself into a new figger, each more bee-yu-ti-ful than the last. Ain't that so, Sol? You know it's the truth."

"You could become more bee-yu-ti-ful a heap o' times an' then be nothin'

to brag about," retorted the shiftless one.

"Now let's all go to sleep," said Henry. "It must be past midnight, and you may be sure that there will be plenty of work for us to do to-morrow."

"'Nough said," said Tom Ross. He threw himself upon one of the couches of skins and in three minutes was fast asleep. Sol, Jim, and Paul quickly followed him, and the long, peaceful breathing of the four was the only sound in the room.

Henry looked down at his comrades, and his heart was full of gladness.

It seemed wonderful that they had all come with their lives through so many dangers, and silently he returned thanks to the white man's G.o.d and the red man's Manitou, who were the same to him.

There was a single window to the cabin, without gla.s.s, but closed, when necessary, with a wooden shutter. The shutter was propped back a foot or more now in order to admit air, and Henry looked out. The lightning had ceased to flash, save for a feeble quiver now and then on the far horizon, and it had grown somewhat lighter. But the rain still fell, though gently, with a steady, soft, insistent drip, drip that was musical and conducive to sleep.

Henry saw the dusky outline of buildings and several figures pa.s.sing back and forth, guns on shoulders. These were riflemen, and he knew that more were at the wooden walls keeping vigilant guard. Once again he was filled with wonder that he and his comrades should have come so far and through so much, and yet be safe and whole.

There was no sound save an occasional light footstep or the clank of a rifle barrel against metal to break the musical beat of the rain. All the firing had ceased, and the wind moaned no longer. Henry let the fresh air play for a while on his face, and then he, too, turned back to a couch of skins. Sleep, heavy, but not dreamless, came soon.

Henry's dream was not a bad one. On the contrary, it was full of cheer and good omen. He lay in the forest, the forest, dry, warm, green, and beautiful, and an unknown voice over his head sang a splendid song in his ears that, note by note, penetrated every fiber of his being and filled him with the most glorious visions. It told him to go on, that all things could be conquered by those who do not fear to try. It was the same song among the leaves that he had heard in his waking hours, but now it was louder and fuller, and it spoke with a clearer voice.

The boy turned on his buffalo robe. There was no light in the cabin now, but his face in the darkness was like that of one inspired. He awoke presently. The voice was gone, but he could still hear it, like a far sweet echo, and, although he knew it to be a dream, he considered it to be fact, nevertheless. Something had spoken to him while he slept, and, confident of the future, he fell into another sleep, this time without dreams.

When Henry awoke the next morning Daniel Boone sat by his couch. His comrades awakened, too, one after another, and as they sat up, Boone, out of the great goodness of his soul, smiled upon them.

"You are woodsmen, fine woodsmen, all of you," he said, "an' I want to talk with you. Do you think the great chief, Timmendiquas, will draw off?"

"Not he!" exclaimed Henry. "He is far from beaten."

"An' that's what I say, too," repeated Boone in his gentle voice. "Adam Colfax and Major Braithwaite think that he has had enough, but I'm warnin' them to be careful. If the warriors could crush the fleet an'

the fort together they'd strike a terrible blow against the settlements."

"There is no doubt of it," said Henry. "Timmendiquas, so long as he has a powerful army of the tribes, will never give up such a chance."

"Mr. Colfax thinks they've suffered so much," continued Boone, "that they will retreat into the far north. I know better. Simon Kenton knows better, and we want you and one or two of your comrades to go out with us and prove that the warriors are still in a circle about the fort an'

the fleet alike."

"I'm your man for one," said Henry. All the others promptly volunteered, also, but it was arranged that Paul and Long Jim should stay behind to help the garrison, while Henry, Shif'less Sol, and Tom Ross should go with Boone and Kenton. But it was agreed, also, that they should not go forth until night, when the darkness would favor their forest inquiries.

The five had slept very late, and it was past ten o'clock when they went out into the large, open s.p.a.ce that lay between the houses and the palisade. All signs of the storm were gone. The forest might give proof of its pa.s.sage, but here it was as if it had never been. A gentle wind blew, and the boughs moved softly and peacefully before it. The sky, a deep blue, showed not a single cloud, and the river flowed a stream of quivering molten gold. The fleet was drawn up in a long line along the southern bank, and it, too, was at rest. No sweep or paddle stirred, and the men slept or lounged on the decks. Nowhere was an enemy visible. All the storm and strife of the night before had vanished. It seemed, in the face of this peaceful wind and golden sun, that such things could not be. Adam Colfax and Major Braithwaite might well cling to their belief that the warriors, beaten and disheartened, had gone. The women and children shared in this conviction, and the afternoon was a joyous one in Fort Prescott, but when the night had fully come, Boone and Kenton, with Henry, Tom Ross and the shiftless one, went forth to prove a thing that they did not wish to prove, that is, that the Indians were still at hand.

They went first in a southwesterly direction, and they saw many signs of the savages, that is, that they had been there, but these signs also indicated that now they were gone. They curved about toward the northwest, and the result was the same, and then, for the sake of certainty, they came back again toward the southwest. a.s.sured now that the southern woods contained no Indians anywhere near the fort, they stopped in the bushes near the bank of the river and held a little council.

"It 'pears to me that it's turned out just about as all of us thought it would," said Daniel Boone.

"It's so," said Simon Kenton, "but we had to look first an' be sure."

"That is, we all believe that the Indians have gathered on the northern bank," said Henry, "and under the lead of Timmendiquas are planning a grand attack upon us."

"It's so," said Shif'less Sol.

Tom Ross nodded.

"That bein' so," said Daniel Boone, "we must cross an' take a look at them."

All the others nodded. Everyone was anxious for the perilous task.

"We can swim the river," said Henry, "and, also, we can borrow a small boat from the fleet."

"I wouldn't borrow a boat," said Daniel Boone. "The fewer that know about us the better, even the fewer of our friends. It 'pears to me that if we were to stroll down stream a little we might find a canoe that somebody had left there for a time of need."

Henry smiled. He felt sure that the canoe would be found. But he and the others, without another word, followed Boone for a distance until they came to a point where the banks were low. Then Boone forced his way noiselessly into a patch of bushes that grew at the very water's edge, and Simon Kenton followed him. The two reappeared in a minute, carrying a s.p.a.cious canoe of birch bark.

"Simon an' me took this," explained Boone, "before we went south for our friends, an' we hid it here, knowin' that we'd have a use for it some time or other. We'll crowd it, but it'll hold us all."

They put the canoe upon the water, and the five got in. Boone and Kenton lifted the paddles, but Tom Ross at once reached over and took the paddle from the hand of Daniel Boone.

"It shan't ever be told uv me," he said, "that I set still in a boat, while Dan'l Boone paddled me across the Ohio."

"An' yet I think I can paddle pretty well," said Daniel Boone in a gentle, whimsical tone.

"'Nuff said," said Tom Ross, as he gave the paddle a mighty sweep that sent the canoe shooting far out into the river. Boone smiled again in his winning way, but said nothing. Kenton, also, swung the paddle with a mighty wrist and arm, and in a few moments they were in the middle of the river. Here the light was greatest, and the two paddlers did not cease their efforts until they were well under the shelter of the northern bank, where the darkness lay thick and heavy again.

Here they stopped and examined river, forest, and sh.o.r.es. The fleet at the southern margin blended with the darkness, but they could dimly see, high upon the cliff, the walls of the fort, and also a few lights that twinkled in the blockhouse or the upper stories of cabins.

"They're at peace and happy there now," said Daniel Boone. "It's a pity they can't stay so."

He spoke with so much kindly sympathy that Henry once more regarded this extraordinary man with uncommon interest. Explorer, wilderness fighter, man of a myriad perils, he was yet as gentle in voice and manner as a woman. But Henry understood him. He knew that like nature itself he was at once serene and strong. He, too, had felt the spell.

"They won't be troubled there to-night," continued Boone. "The Indians will not be ready for a new attack, unless it's merely skirmishing, an'

Adam Colfax and Major Braithwaite will keep a good guard against them.

Now which way, Simon, do you think the camp of the Indians will be?"

Kenton pointed toward the northeast, a silent but significant gesture.

"There's a little prairie over there about two miles back from the river," he said. "It's sheltered, but safe from ambush, an' it's just the place that Timmendiquas would naturally choose."

"Then," said Boone, "that's the place we'll go to. Now, boys, we'll hide our canoe here among the bushes, 'cause we're likely to need it again.

We may come back mighty fast, an' it might be the very thing that we wanted most at that partickler time."

He laughed, and the others laughed, too. The canoe was well hidden among the bushes, and then the five borderers disappeared in the forest.

CHAPTER XXII

THE SPEECH OF TIMMENDIQUAS