His left hand closed around the upper arm of Ben, while his right grasped his tomahawk, he having thrown aside his rifle.
The boy was repeatedly jerked almost off his feet.

He could run fast, but was not equal to this warrior, who forged along with resistless might.

Twice did an Iroquois make for the young prisoner, as he supposed the lad to be, but a warning motion of the tomahawk upheld by Omas repelled him.
The Delaware was prudent, and instead of keeping in the midst of the surging mass, worked to one side, so that they were soon comparatively free from the tumultuous throng.
There was no attempt at conversation between the Delaware and Ben.

The boy knew what was meant by this rough kindness.

The day was lost, and his thoughts went out to the loved ones waiting down the valley to learn the result of the battle.