At that
moment he was at his highest pitch of courage and skill, alone in the
darkness and storm, surrounded by the danger of death and worse, yet
ready to risk everything for the sake of the boy with whom he had
played.
He heard nothing but the patter of the distant firing, and all around
him was the gloom, of a night, dark to intensity. The rain poured
steadily out of a sky that did not contain a single star. Paul stirred
occasionally on his shoulder, as he advanced, swiftly, picking his way
through the forest and the undergrowth. A half mile forward and his ears
caught a light footstep. In an instant he sank down with his burden, and
as he did so he caught sight of an Indian warrior, not twenty feet away.
The Shawnee saw him at the same time, and he, too, dropped down in the
undergrowth.
Henry did not then feel the lust of blood. He would have been willing to
pass on, and leave the Shawnee to himself; but he knew that the Shawnee
would not leave him. He laid Paul upon his back, in order that the rain
might beat upon his face, and then crouched beside him, absolutely
motionless, but missing nothing that the keenest eye or ear might
detect.
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