Henry turned his head for one look.

He saw a group of them poised for a moment on the crest of a low hill and outlined against the broad flame in the east.

He saw their scalp locks, the rifles in their hands, and their bare chests shining bronze in the glow.

Once more he sent back his defiant cry, now in answer to theirs, and then, calling upon his reserves of strength and endurance, fled with a speed that none of the warriors had ever seen surpassed.
Henry's flight lasted all that day, and he used every device to evade the pursuit, swinging by vines, walking along fallen logs, and wading in brooks.

He did not see the warriors again, but instinct warned him that they were yet following.