The added height
and the white glare from the ice made him tower like a great
giant. He was clad completely in soft, warm deerskin, his hands
were gloved in the same material, and the fur cap was drawn
tightly about his head and ears. The slender-barreled rifle lay
across his shoulder, and the blanket and deer meat made a light
package on his back. Only his face was uncovered, and that was
rosy with the sharp but bracing cold. But the resolute blue eyes
seemed to have grown more resolute in the last six months, and
the firm jaw was firmer than ever.
It was a steely blue sky, clear, hard, and cold, fitted to the
earth of snow and ice that it inclosed. His eyes traveled the
circle of the horizon three times, and at the end of the third
circle he made out a dim, dark thread against that sheet of blue
steel. It was the light of a camp fire, and that camp fire must
belong to an enemy. It was not likely that anybody else would be
sending forth such a signal in this wintry wilderness.
Henry judged that the fire was several miles away, and apparently
in a small valley hemmed in by hills of moderate height. He made
up his mind that the band of Braxton Wyatt was there, and he
intended to make a thorough scout about it.
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