"Thank God it will be daylight soon," he murmured to himself, "and then if they overtake us we can see them." Faint and far, but ominous and full of threat came the howl of the wolf again, first from the right and then from the left, and then from points between.

Henry noticed that Ross and Shif'less Sol seemed to draw themselves together, as if they would make every nerve and muscle taut, and then his eyes shifted to Mr.Pennypacker, and seeing him, he knew at once that the master did not understand; he had not heard the words of Shif'less Sol.
"It seems that we are pursued by a pack of wolves instead of a war party," said Mr.Pennypacker.

"At least we are numerous enough to beat off a lot of cowardly four-footed assailants." Henry smiled from the heights of his superior knowledge.
"Those are not wolves, Mr.Pennypacker," he said, "those are the Shawnees calling to one another." "Then, why in Heaven's name don't they speak their own language!" exclaimed the exasperated schoolmaster, "instead of using that which appertains only to the prowling beast ?" Henry, despite himself, was forced to smile, but he turned his face and hid the smile--he would not offend the schoolmaster whom he esteemed sincerely.
The dawn now began to brighten.

The sun, a flaming red sword, cleft the gray veil, and then poured down a torrent of golden beams upon the vast, green wilderness of Kentucky.

Henry, as he looked around upon the little band, realized what a tiny speck of human life they were in all those hundreds of miles of forest, and what risks they ran.
Ross gave the word to halt, and again they ate of cold food.