It might happen, too, to one or more of
the Iroquois, but plenty of them would be left. Yet Henry had
supreme confidence in his snowshoes. He had made them himself,
he had seen that every part was good, and every thong had been
fastened with care.
The wind which bad been roaring so loudly at the time of the fire
sank to nothing. The leafless trees stood up, the branches
unmoving. The forest was bare and deserted. All the animals,
big and little, had gone into their lairs. Nobody witnessed the
great pursuit save pursuers and pursued. Henry kept his
direction clear in his mind, and allowed the Iroquois to take no
advantage of a curve save once. Then he came to a thicket so
large that he was compelled to make a considerable circle to pass
it. He turned to the right, hence the Indians on the right
gained, and they sent up a yell of delight. He replied defiantly
and increased his speed.
But one of the Indians, a flying Mohawk, had come dangerously
near-near enough, in fact, to fire a bullet that did not miss the
fugitive much. It aroused Henry's anger. He took it as an
indignity rather than a danger, and he resolved to avenge it. So
far as firing was concerned, he was at a disadvantage.
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