The flurries of rain ceased, and the skies brightened a little. A star or
two peeped out.
"Ah!" said Henry in the lowest of whispers, "here they come!"
The bushes at the far side of the glade parted and three figures came into
the open. They took but two or three steps forward and then stopped full
in the blaze of the firelight, where every feature showed like carving in
the red glow.
The hidden watchers recognized at once the three who had come. They were
Braxton Wyatt, Yellow Panther the Miami chief, and Red Eagle the Shawnee
chief. Paul repressed a little cry of amazement that he should see the two
Indian leaders so far from the territory of their tribes. They must intend
much to come such a journey.
Braxton Wyatt stepped back a little, as if having performed his function
of guide he would now remain awhile in the background, but the two great
chiefs stood motionless, side by side, magnificent specimens of savage
life, bronze of skin, tall of figure, powerful of chest, thin, eagle-like
faces, and defiant scalp-locks waving above. The imaginative Paul, seeing
how well they fitted into the wilderness scene, was forced to admire. The
firelight flickered and blazed over them, but they were immovable in all
their savage dignity.
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