Had not the trail been so broad and
deep it could easily have been lost, but, being what it was, the
skilled eyes of the frontiersmen followed it without trouble.
"Some uv 'em are gittin' pow'ful tired," said Tom Ross, looking
at the tracks in the mud. Then he suddenly added: "Here's whar
one's quit forever."
A shallow grave, not an hour old, had been made under some
bushes, and its length indicated that a woman lay there. They
passed it by in silence. Henry now appreciated more fully than
ever the mercy of Timmendiquas. The five and Carpenter could not
possibly have protected the miserable fugitives against the great
chief, with fifty Wyandots and Iroquois at his back.
Timmendiquas knew this, and he had done what none of the Indians
or white allies around him would have done.
In another hour they saw a man standing among some vines, but
watchful, and with his rifle in the hollow of his arm. It was
Carpenter, a man whose task was not less than that of the five.
They were in the thick of it and could see what was done, but he
had to lead on and wait. He counted the dusk figures as they
approached him, one, two, three, four, five, and perhaps no man
ever felt greater relief.
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