That still strange figure was his
deadliest foe. Dropping down upon his four paws, he fled among
the trees, and then scrambled somehow through the swamp to the
mainland.
Henry sighed. Despite his own friendly feeling, the bear, warned
by instinct, was afraid of him, and, as he was bound to
acknowledge to himself, the bear's instinct was doubtless right.
He rose, went into the hut, and slept heavily through the night.
In the morning he left the islet once more to scout in the
direction of the Indian camp, but he found it a most dangerous
task. The woods were full of warriors hunting. As he had
judged, the game was abundant, and he heard rifles cracking in
several directions. He loitered, therefore, in the thickest of
the thickets, willing to wait until night came for his
enterprise. It was advisable, moreover, to wait, because be did
not see yet just how he was going to succeed. He spent nearly
the whole day shifting here and there through the forest, but
late in the afternoon, as the Indians yet seemed so numerous in
the woods, he concluded to go back toward the islet.
He was about two miles from the swamp when he heard a cry, sharp
but distant.
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