"If we could strike another good strong blow now," said the shiftless one, "I think they would break into a panic."

"True," said Henry, "but we must not depart from our original purpose to get at the cannon. I don't think we can do it tonight and so we'd better withdraw. Maybe we'll have another chance tomorrow night."

"I'm agreein' with you, Henry, an' I'm beginnin' to think mighty like the warriors do, that Manitou, which is jest their name for our God, turns his face upon you or turns his face away from you."

"It looks so, Sol. I suppose the Indians in most ways don't differ much from us. Only they're a lot more superstitious."

Slowly they crept away, but when they finally rose to their feet in the depths of the forest they could still see the glow of the great fires behind them. Henry and the shiftless one knew that the Indians had been heaping logs upon coals until the flames sprang up fifteen or twenty feet, and that around them nearly the whole army was now dancing and singing. The wailing note of so many voices still reached them, shrill, piercing and so full of lament that the nerves of the forest runners themselves were upset.

"I want to git away from here," said the shiftless one, and then he added wistfully: "I wish we could strike our big blow, whatever it is, tonight, Henry. Their state o' mind is terrible. They're right on edge, an' ef we could do somethin' they'd break, shore."

"I know it," said Henry, "but we're not able to get at what we want to reach."

Nevertheless they stood there, and listened some time to the wailing note of all the hundreds who were oppressed and afraid, because the face of Manitou was so obviously turned from them.

Henry and the shiftless one, as they returned toward their comrades whom they had left behind, did not relax their caution, knowing that hunting parties were still abroad, and that veteran chiefs like Yellow Panther and Red Eagle had sent scouts ahead. Twice they struck trails, and fragments of feathers left on the bushes by warriors returning with turkeys.

They were at least two miles from the camp when they heard noises that indicated the passage of a small body of the Indians, and as they stepped behind trees to conceal themselves Shif'less Sol's foot suddenly sank with a bubbling sound into an oozy spot. In an instant, all the Indians stopped. Henry and his comrade heard rustling sounds for a moment, and then there was complete silence. The two knew that the warriors had taken to cover, and that probably they would not escape without a fight. They were intensely annoyed as they wished to return to Paul, Long Jim and Silent Tom.

The shiftless one withdrew his foot from the ooze, and he and Henry crouched on dry ground, watching with eye and ear for any movement in the thicket opposite. They knew that the warriors, with infinite patience, were waiting in the same manner, and it was likely that the delay would be long.

"Luck has turned ag'in us fur a little bit," whispered Shif'less Sol, "but I can't think that after favorin' us fur so long it'll leave us fur good."

"I don't think so either," said Henry. "I hear one of them moving."

"That bein' the case we'll lay nearly flat," said Shif'less Sol.

It was well they did so, as a rifle flashed in the thicket before them, and a bullet cut the leaves over their heads. They did not reply, but crept silently to one side. A few minutes later another bullet crashed through the bushes at the same place, and this time Henry fired by the flash. He heard a low cry, followed by silence and he was sure that his bullet had struck a target. Shif'less Sol held his rifle ready in case a rush should come, but there was none, and Henry reloaded rapidly.

A full half-hour of waiting followed, in which only a single shot was fired, and that by the warriors, to go wide of the mark, as usual, and the wrath of Henry and the shiftless one, at being held there so long, became intense. It seemed the veriest piece of irony that this unfortunate chance should have occurred, but Henry presently recalled the arrangement they had made with the three, wondering why they had not thought of it sooner.

"The warriors are before us," he whispered to Shif'less Sol, "and Long Jim, Paul and Tom are behind us. They may have heard the rifle shots or they may not, but at any rate there is something that will carry further."

"You mean the howl of the wolf! O' course, that's our call to them."

"Yes, and if we bring 'em up it won't be hard to drive off this band."

"Let me give the signal then, Henry. Ef Long Jim is the best yeller among us mebbe I'm the best howler. I'm right proud o' bein' a wolf sometimes, an' I feel like one jest now."

"Go back then some distance," said Henry. "When the boys come up you must meet 'em and not let 'em run into any ambush."

The shiftless one glided away toward the rear, and Henry, lying almost flat on the grass and watching the thickets in front of him so intensely that no warrior could have crept out of them unseen, waited. At the end of five minutes he heard behind him a note, low at first, but swelling gradually so high that it pierced the sky and filled the forest. It was fierce, prolonged, seeming to come from the throat of a monster wolf, and, as it died away, a similar cry came from a point far back in the forest. The wolf near by howled again, and the wolf deep in the forest replied in like fashion. The signal was complete, and Henry knew that Paul, Silent Tom and Long Jim would come fast to help.

There was a stirring in the thicket before him, evidently prompted by the signals, and another vain bullet crashed through the bushes. Henry fired once more at the flash, but he could not tell whether or not he had hit anything, although it was sufficient to hold the warriors in the bush. Evidently they did not consider themselves strong enough for a rush, and again he waited patiently, judging that the three would arrive in twenty minutes at the furthest.

They came several minutes within the allotted time. He heard soft rustlings behind him, and then the five were reunited and ready for action.

"Sol, you creep around on the right flank, and Tom, you take the left," whispered the young general. "They're not in numbers and I think we can soon rout 'em without loss to ourselves."

The flanking movement was carried out perfectly. Shif'less Sol and Silent Tom opened fire on the right and on the left at the same time, and the other three, sending in bullets from the center, began to shout the charge, although they did no charging. But it was sufficient. They saw dusky figures darting away, and then, rising from the bushes the three divisions of their small army met victoriously upon the field, abandoned by the enemy in such haste.

They saw red stains, and then a dark form almost hidden in the grass, a powerful warrior, painted hideously and dead an hour. Henry looked down at him thoughtfully. The retreating warriors had taken away his weapons, but his paint bag and the little charms against evil spirits remained, tied to his belt. It was the paint bag that held Henry's eye, and, holding it, gave him the idea.

He detached the bag, the waistcloth and moccasins, and calling to his comrades retreated farther into the forest. Every one of them, as they watched his actions, divined his intent.

"You're going to disguise yourself and go into the Indian camp," said Paul, when they stopped. "I wouldn't do it. The risk is too great. Besides, what can you do?"

"I went among 'em once and came back alive," said Henry, "and I think I can do it again. Besides, I mean to accomplish something."

"I'm to go with you, o' course?" said Shif'less Sol, eagerly.

Henry shook his head.

"No, Sol," he said reluctantly. "There's only equipment for one, and it must be me. But the rest of you can hang on the outskirts, and if I give a cry for help you may come. It will be, as before, the howl of the wolf, and now, boys, we will work fast, because I must strike, while they're still in the frenzy, created by the medicine men."

Henry took off his own clothing, and, with a shudder, put on the leggings and breechcloth of the dead Indian. Then Shif'less Sol and Tom Ross painted him from the waist up in a ghastly manner, and, with their heartfelt wishes for his safety and success, he departed for the camp, the others following in silence not far behind. He soon heard the sound of the chant and he knew that the orgie was proceeding. An Indian dance could last two days and nights without stopping, fresh warriors always replacing those who dropped from exhaustion.

It was now far past midnight, and Henry was quite sure that all the hunters had gone. The little party which he and his comrades had fought had probably spread already the tale of a mysterious foe with whom they had met, and who had slain one of their number. And the story, exaggerated much in the telling, would add to the number and power of the evil spirits oppressing the red army.

Keeping for the present well hidden in the forest, Henry approached the fires which had now been heaped up to an amazing height, from which lofty flames leaped and which sent off sparks in millions. The chant was wilder than ever, rolling in weird echoes through the forest, the dancers leaping to and fro, their faces bathed in perspiration, their eyes filled with the glare of temporary madness. The Englishmen and renegades had gone to small tents pitched at the edge of the wood, but Yellow Panther and Red Eagle stood and watched the dancers.

All things were distorted in the mingled dusk and glow of the fires, and Henry, bending low that his great stature might not be noticed, edged gradually in and joined the dancers. For a while, none was more furious than he. He leaped and he swung his arms, and he chanted, until the perspiration ran down his face, and none looked wilder than he. In the multitude nobody knew that he was a stranger, nor would the glazed eyes of the dancers have noticed that he was one, anyhow.

Nevertheless he was watching keenly, while he leaped and shouted, and his eyes were for the cannon, drawn up just within the edge of the forest, with the ammunition wagons between them. After a while he moved cautiously in their direction, threw himself panting on the grass, where others already lay in the stupor of exhaustion, and then, taking hold of one of the burning brands which the wind had blown from the bonfires, he edged slowly toward the forest and the wagons.

This was the last link in the chain, but if it were not forged all the others would be in vain. Three or four times he stopped motion altogether, and lay flat on the ground. Through the red haze he dimly saw the figures of Yellow Panther and Red Eagle who stood side by side, and he saw also the two medicine men, the Bear and the Buffalo, who danced as if they were made of steel, and who continually incited the others.

Henry himself began to feel the effect of the dancing and of the wild cheering, which was like a continuous mad incantation. His blood had never before leaped so wildly and he saw through a red haze all the time. He felt for the moment almost like an Indian, or rather as if he had returned to some primeval incarnation. But it did not make him feel one with those around him. Instead it incited him to extreme effort and greater daring.

He edged himself forward slowly, dragging the torch upon the ground. He still saw Blackstaffe and Wyatt at the edge of the opening some distance away, but they were gazing at the great mass of the dancers. Alloway presently came from his tent and also stood looking on, though he did not join the renegades. Henry could imagine his feelings, his bitter disappointment. But then, one must know something about Indians before undertaking to go on campaigns with them. He hoped, however, that young Cawthorne would remain in his tent.

His slow creeping lasted ten minutes. He felt now that he had reached the very crisis of the campaign made by the five, and he must not make the slightest slip of any kind. He reached the grass behind the wagons and lay there four or five minutes without stirring. He discovered then that besides those between the cannon there were four behind them loaded with powder. The horses were tethered in the woods two or three hundred yards away. He was glad that so much distance separated them from the cannon and powder.

The torch, although he kept it concealed in the grass, was beginning to crackle. The problem was not yet simple, but he thought rapidly. The wagons were covered with canvas. Reaching up, he quickly cut off a long strip with his hunting knife. Then he inserted the strip inside the wagon and into the powder, driving the knife deep through canvas and wood, and leaving it, thrust there to hold the strip fast.

The other end of the thick canvas fell from the wagon to the ground, a length of about a foot lying in the grass. He ignited this with his torch, and saw it begin to burn with a steady creeping flame. Then he moved swiftly away until he reached the edge of the forest, when he rose and ran with all his might. Three or four hundred yards distant, he stopped and uttered the cry of the wolf. The answer came instantly from a point very near, and in two minutes the four joined him.

"Is it arranged?" exclaimed Paul.

"Yes," replied Henry. "There's a chance of a slip, of course. The torch is set and burning. An Indian may see it and put it out, but I don't——"

The sentence was never finished. The night was rent by a terrible crash, and as they were looking toward the Indian camp they saw a pyramid of fire shoot far up into the sky, and then sink back again. A half minute of dreadful silence followed, when every leaf and blade of grass seemed to stand still, and then through the distance came a long and piercing lament.

"It's done!" said the shiftless one, speaking in a tone of awe.

"The cannon are blown to pieces," said Paul.

"Nothin' but scattered metal now!" said Long Jim.

"Busted up, shore!" said Silent Tom.

"They'll be running in a panic presently," said Henry, "and they won't stop until they're far across the Ohio."

The hearts of the five swelled. They alone, five against a thousand, rifles against cannon, had defeated the great Indian army headed by artillery. They had equalled the knights of old—perhaps had surpassed them—although it was not done by valor alone, but also by wile and stratagem, by mind and leadership. Intellect had been well allied with bravery.

But they said little, and turning back into the deeps of the forest, they slept until morning.

* * * * *

The five rose at dawn, and went swiftly to the place where the Indian camp had stood, to find there, as they had expected, complete silence and desolation. The ruin was utter. All the wagons had been blown to bits, and the cannon were shattered so thoroughly that they lay in fragments. Probably Indians near by had been killed, but the warriors, following their custom, had taken their dead away with them.

Henry, looking near the edge of the forest, suddenly started back at a gleam of red among the bushes. He knew that it had come from a red coat, and when he looked again he saw the body of Colonel Alloway lying there. He had been hit in the head by a piece of flying metal and evidently had been killed instantly. Doubtless the other English had wanted to bury him, but the panic of the Indians had compelled them to leave him, although they took their own dead.

"We'll bury him, because he was a white man," said Henry.

They dug a grave with their knives and hatchets and laid him in it, putting stones over the dirt to keep prowling wild animals from digging there, and then took the Indian trail.

It was a trail so wide and deep that a blind man could have followed it. The panic evidently had been terrible. The warriors had thrown away blankets, and in some cases weapons. Henry found a fine hunting knife, with which he replaced the one he had used to pin down his fuse, and Silent Tom found a fine green blanket which he added to his own.

They followed to the Ohio River, and some distance beyond. Then, satisfied that this expedition was routed utterly, they came back into Kentucky.

"I'd like to go to that little house of ours inside the cliff," said Paul.

"So would I," said Long Jim. "It's the snuggest home we've ever found inside the wilderness."

"An' Indian proof, ez we've proved," said the shiftless one.

"Good fur rest," said Silent Tom.

"Then we go there," said Henry.

They reached the valley the next day and climbed up into the cleft which had been a home and a fortress for them. It was sweet and clean, full of fresh, pure air, and the tiny rill was trickling away merrily. Nothing had been disturbed.

"Now ain't this fine?" said Long Jim, coming outside and looking over the hills. "Paul, I've heard you talk about palaces, them that the old Greeks an' Romans had, an' them that they hev now in Europe, but I know that thar has never been one among 'em ez snug an' safe an' cozy ez this."

"At least," said the shiftless one, "I don't believe any o' 'em ever had a water supply like ourn, clean, cool, an' unfailin'."

Silent Tom took something from his knapsack.

"I'm goin' to git some fish in that creek farther down," he said. "You'd better hev your fire ready. Out here on the shelf is a good place."

Long Jim, happy in the task that he liked, hurried away in search of dead wood. The others carried dried leaves into the hollow and made places for their beds.

Silent Tom caught plenty of good fish, to which they added venison and buffalo steaks, and, sitting on the shelf they ate and were at peace. The glow of triumph was still in their hearts. Alone, they had achieved a great deed for the sake of humanity. They had been through their Iliad, and like the heroes of antiquity, they took their well-earned rest.

The foliage was now in its deepest flush of green. Henry, as he looked over a vast expanse of wilderness, saw nothing but green, green, the unbroken green that he loved.

A bird in a tree over their heads began to pour forth a volume of clear, triumphant song, and the five looked upon it as a voice meant for them.

"It's the last touch," said Paul.

"And the victory is complete," said Henry.

THE END