bathed his face in the brook and resumed his journey, traveling
with a long, swift stride that carried him at great speed.

The boy was making for a definite point, one that he knew well,
although nearly all the rest of this wilderness was strange to
him. The country here was rougher than it usually is in the
great valley to the west, and as he advanced it became yet more
broken, range after range of steep, stony hills, with fertile but
narrow little valleys between. He went on without hesitation for
at least two hours, and then stopping under a great oak he
uttered a long, whining cry, much like the howl of a wolf.

It was not a loud note, but it was singularly penetrating,
carrying far through the forest. A sound like an echo came back,
but Henry knew that instead of an echo it was a reply to his own
signal. Then he advanced boldly and swiftly and came to the edge
of a snug little valley set deep among rocks and trees like a
bowl. He stopped behind the great trunk of a beech, and looked
into the valley with a smile of approval.

Four human figures were seated around a fire of smoldering coals
that gave forth no smoke. They appeared to be absorbed in some
very pleasant task, and a faint odor that came to Henry's
nostrils filled him with agreeable anticipations. He stepped
forward boldly and called:

"Jim, save that piece for me!"

Long Jim Hart halted in mid-air the large slice of venison that
he had toasted on a stick. Paul Cotter sprang joyfully to his