Midnight, and then the long hours.  Faint noises arose in the thickets, bet the ear of the gray statue was alive, and he knew.  The rabbits were hopping about, at play, perhaps, in the moonlight; a deer was passing; perhaps a panther stirred somewhere; but these were things that neither he nor Paul feared; it was only man that they dreaded.  After a while a faint, clear note rose, far to the east, and to it came three replies like it, and also far away.  Henry laughed low.  They were the familiar signals, but he and Paul were well hidden, and they would escape through the lines before morning.  They might easily go back to Wareville, too, but he was resolved not to abandon either the horses or the powder.  The powder was needed at Marlowe, and it would be a bitter humiliation not to take it there.

Two hours more passed, and then Henry heard the signals again, but now closer.  By chance, perhaps, the Shawnees had formed their ring about the right place, and it was time to act.  Paul had slept well and was rested, so Henry leaned over and shook him.  Paul opened his eyes, and any question that he might have wished to ask was cut short at his lips by Henry’s low, but commanding,

“Caution!  Caution!”

“It is far after midnight, and we must move, Paul,” said Henry.  “They may have blundered on our trail before it was dark, and they are still looking for us.  I think they are coming this way.”

Paul understood in a moment, but he asked no question; if Henry said so, it was true, it did not matter how he knew.  He rose, imitating Henry, taking his two rifles, and they stole silently away from the little cove that had been so full of comfort for both.

“We’ll go toward the south now,” said Henry, “and on your life, Paul, don’t stumble!”

Paul knew the worth of this advice, and he was woodsman enough to avoid tripping on the vines and bushes, despite the darkness.  One mile dropped behind them, then two, then three, and Henry suddenly put his hand upon the shoulder of Paul, who, understanding the signal, sank down at once beside his comrade.

The bushes were thick there, but Paul soon saw the danger, of which Henry’s ear had already warned him.  A dozen warriors marched in a silent file through the undergrowth.  Well for the two that they were some distance away, and that the bushes grew thick and long!  And well for them, too, that it was night!  The warriors looked keenly on every side as they passed, apparently seeking out the last little leaf and twig; but, acute as were their eyes, they did not see the boys in the bushes.  And perhaps it was well for some of them that they did not find what they sought, as the wilderness furnished no more formidable antagonist than Henry Ware, and Paul Cotter, too, was both brave and skillful.