He was about to achieve the great exploration upon which
he had ventured so much. Whether he would find anything at the
end of the risk he ran, he was soon to see.
The hut, about seven feet square and as many feet in height, was
built strongly of poles, with a small entrance closed by a
clapboard door fastened stoutly on the outside with withes. The
hut was well in the shadow of tepees, and all were still at the
feasting and merrymaking. He cut the withes with two sweeps of
his sharp hunting knife, opened the door, bent his head, stepped
in and then closed the door behind him, in order that no Iroquois
might see what had happened.
It was not wholly dark in the hut, as there were cracks between
the poles, and bars of moonlight entered, falling upon a floor of
bark. They revealed also a figure lying full length on one side
of the but. A great pulse of joy leaped up in Henry's throat,
and with it was a deep pity, also. The figure was that of
Shif'less Sol, but be was pale and thin, and his arms and legs
were securely bound with thongs of deerskin.
Leaning over, Henry cut the thongs of the shiftless one, but he
did not stir. Great forester that Shif'less Sol was, and usually
so sensitive to the lightest movement, be perceived nothing now,
and, had he not found him bound, Henry would have been afraid
that he was looking upon his dead comrade.
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