But the very security of the Indians
helped his own design. They would not dream that any one of the
hated race was daring to come almost within the light of their
fires.
Henry had but one fear just now, and that was dogs. If the
Indians had any of their mongrel curs with them, they would
quickly scent him out and give the alarm with their barking. But
he believed that the probabilities were against it. This, so he
thought then, was a war or hunting camp, and it was likely that
the Indians would leave the dogs at their permanent villages. At
any rate he would take the risk, and he drew slowly toward the
oak opening, where some Indians stood about. Beyond them, in
another dip of the valley, was a wider opening which he had not
seen on his first trip, and this contained not only bark
shelters, but buildings that indicated a permanent village. The
second and larger opening was filled with a great concourse of
warriors.
Fortunately the foliage around the opening was very dense, many
trees and thickets everywhere. Henry crept to the very rim,
where, lying in the blackest of the shadows, and well hidden
himself, he could yet see nearly everything in the camp.
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