The two savages were motionless, as if carved of brown marble, and over all the wilderness hung silence.  Then out of the silence came a sharp report, and the warrior who stood erect, rifle in hand, fell to the earth, stricken by instant death.  Henry had come!  His faithful comrade had not failed him!  Paul shouted aloud in his tremendous relief and joy, forgetful of the second warrior.

The kneeling savage sprang to his feet, but he had made a fatal mistake.  To light the fire for the torture, he had left his rifle leaning against the trunk of a tree twenty feet away, and before he could regain it a terrible figure bounded from the bushes, the figure of a great youth, clad in buckskin, his face transformed with anger and his eyes alight.  Before the savage could reach his weapon he went down, slain by a single blow of a clubbed rifle, and the next moment Henry was cutting Paul loose with a few swift slashes of his keen hunting knife.

“I knew you would come!  I knew it!” exclaimed Paul joyously and wildly, as he stood forth free.  “Nobody in the world but you could have done it, Henry!”

“I don’t know about that, Paul,” said Henry, “but I’d have had you back sooner if it hadn’t been for the dark.  I followed you all night the best way I could, but I couldn’t come up to you until day, and they began work then.”

He glanced significantly at the leaves and brushwood, and then, handing Paul’s rifle to him, looked at those belonging to the savages.

“We’ll take ’em,” he said.  “It’s likely we’ll need ’em, and their powder and bullets will be more than welcome, too.”

Paul was rubbing his wrists and ankles, where the blood flowed painfully as the circulation was restored, but to him the whole affair was ended.  His life had been saved at the last moment, and the world was more brilliant and beautiful than ever.  His imagination went quickly to the other extreme.  There was no more danger.

But Henry Ware did not lose his eager, wary look.  It did not take him more than a minute to transfer the ammunition of the warriors to the pouches and powder-horns of Paul and himself.  Then he searched the forest with keen, suspicious glances.

“Come, Paul,” he said, “we must run.  The woods are full of the savages.  I’ve found out that there’s a great war party between us and Marlowe, and I’ve hid the powder in a cave.  I turned the horses loose, hoping that we’ll get ’em some time later; but just now you and I have to save ourselves.”

Paul came back to earth.  Danger still threatened!  But he was free for the time, and he was with his comrade!

“You lead the way, Henry,” he said.  “I’ll follow, and do whatever you say.”

Henry Ware made no reply, but bent his ear again, in the attitude of one who listens.  Paul watched his face attentively, seeking to read his knowledge there.

“The big war band is not far away,” said Henry, “and it’s likely that they’ve heard my shot.  It would carry far on such a still, clear morning as this.  I didn’t want them to hear it.”