.

THE MYSTERIOUS HAND.
Henry slept until a rosy light, filtering through the leaves, fell upon his face.

Then he sprang up, folded the blanket once more upon his back, and looked about him.

Nothing had come in the night to disturb him, no enemy was near, and the morning sun was bright and beautiful.

The venison was exhausted, but he bathed his face in the brook and resumed his journey, traveling with a long, swift stride that carried him at great speed.
The boy was making for a definite point, one that he knew well, although nearly all the rest of this wilderness was strange to him.