in a close group to make a shelter from stray puffs of wind,
strove with flint and steel. Sparks sprang up and went out, but
Henry at last saw a little blaze rise and cling to life. Then,
fed with tinder and bark, it grew under the roof made by the boat
until it was ruddy and strong. The boat was tilted farther back,
and the fire, continuing to grow, crackled cheerfully, while the
flames leaped higher.

By a curious transfer of the senses, Henry, as he lay in the
thick blackness felt the influence of the fire, also. Its warmth
was upon his face, and it was pleasing to see the red and yellow
light victorious against the sodden background of the rain and
dripping forest. The figures of the warriors passed and repassed
before the fire, and the boy in the boat moved suddenly. His
body was not shifted more than an inch, but his surprise was
great.

A warrior stood between him and the fire, outlined perfectly
against the red light. It was a splendid figure, young, much
beyond the average height, the erect and noble head crowned with
the defiant scalplock, the strong, slightly curved nose and the
massive chin cut as clearly as if they had been carved in copper.
The man who had laid aside a wet blanket was bare now to the
waist, and Henry could see the powerful muscles play on chest and
shoulders as he moved.

The boy knew him. It was Timmendiquas, the great White Lightning
of the Wyandots, the youngest, but the boldest and ablest of all
the Western chiefs. Henry's pulses leaped a little at the sight
of his old foe and almost friend. As always, he felt admiration