Here Henry rose to his feet and Paul imitated him, thankful to rest his aching knees and wrists, and to stand up in the form and spirit of a man.
"We may slip through unseen and unheard," whispered Henry, "and then again we may not.

Come on; we'll need all our caution now." But as they took the first step erect, a cry arose behind them, a cry so full of ferocity and chagrin that Paul absolutely shuddered from head to foot.

It came from the clearing, near the hut, and Paul, without the telling of it, knew what had happened.
"They've tried the door of the cabin, only to find it open and the place empty," whispered Henry.

"Now, we must not go too fast, Paul.

In this pitchy darkness not even a Shawnee could see us ten feet away, but he could hear us.