He saw the chief standing rigid and gazing in the direction from which the sound had come.

Other warriors were just behind him, following his look, aware that there was an unexpected presence in the forest, and resolved to know its nature.
Henry ran northward.

So confident was he in his powers and the protecting darkness of the night that he sent back a sharp cry, piercing and defiant, a cry of a quality that could come only from a white throat.

The warriors would know it, and he intended for them to know it.
Then, holding his rifle almost parallel with his body, he darted swiftly away through the black spaces of the forest.

But an answering cry came to his, the Indian yell taking up his challenge, and saying that the night would not check pursuit.
Henry maintained his swift pace for a long time, choosing the more open places that he might make no noise among the bushes and leaves.