It is truth to say that no thought of danger entered his
mind; the thrills of the present and its chances absorbed him. It seemed
natural that he should do this thing, he was merely resuming an old
labor, discontinued for a time.
He raised his head slightly, but even his keen eyes could see nothing in
the forest save trunks and branches, ghostly and shapeless, and the
regular rustle of the wind was not broken now by the jarring note. But
the darkness heavy and ominous, was permeated with the signs of things
about to happen, and heavy with danger, a danger, however, that brought
no fear to Henry for himself, only for others. A faint sighing note as
of a distant bird came on the wind, and pausing, he listened intently.
He knew that it was not a bird, that sound was made by human lips, and
once more a light shiver passed over his frame; it was a signal,
concerning his comrades and himself, and he would turn aside the danger
from those old friends of his who slept by the fire, in peace and
unknowing.
He resumed his cautious passage through the undergrowth, and, the
inherited instinct blossoming so suddenly into full flower, was still
his guide.
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