He
turned now, and went back toward the west on a line parallel with
the pursuit, but much closer to the swamp. The dusk thickened
rapidly. The sun dropped over the curve of the world, and the
vast complex maze of trunks and boughs melted into a solid black
wall. The incident of the pursuit was over and with it its petty
annoyances. He directed his course boldly now for the stepping
stones, and traveled fast. Soon the first of them would be less
than a hundred yards away.
But the incident was not over. Wary and skillful though the
young forest runner might be, he had made one miscalculation, and
it led to great consequences. As he skirted the edge of the
swamp in the darkness, now fully come, a dusky figure suddenly
appeared. It was a stray warrior from some small band, wandering
about at will. The meeting was probably as little expected by
him as it was by Henry, and they were so close together when they
saw each other that neither had time to raise his rifle. The
warrior, a tall, powerful man, dropping his gun and snatching out
a knife, sprang at once upon his enemy.
Henry was borne back by the weight and impact, but, making an
immense effort, he recovered himself and, seizing the wrist of
the Indian's knife hand, exerted all his great strength.
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