They marched all day without interruption, eating their food as they marched. Timmendiquas was at the head of the column, and he did not speak again with Henry. The renegades, probably fearing the wrath of the chief, also kept away. The country, hilly hitherto, now became level and frequently swampy. Here the travelling was difficult. Often their feet sank in the soft mud above the ankles, Briars reached out and scratched them, and, in these damp solitudes, the air was dark and heavy. Yet the Indians went on without complaint, and Henry, despite his bound arms, could keep his balance and pace with the rest, stride for stride. They marched several days and nights without interruption through a comparatively level country, still swampy at times, thickly grown with forest, and with many streams and little lakes. Most of the lakes were dotted with wild fowl, and often they saw deer in the shallow portions. Two or three of the deer were shot, but the Indians devoted little time to the hunting of game, as they were well provided with food. Henry, who understood both Wyandot and Shawnee, gathered from the talk of those about him that they were at last drawing near to Detroit, the great Northwestern fort of the British and Indians. They would arrive there to-morrow, and they spent that last night by camp fires, the Indians relaxing greatly from their usual taciturnity and caution, and eating as if at a banquet. Henry sat on a log in the middle of the camp. His arms were unbound and he could eat with the others as much as he chose. Since they were not to burn him or torture him otherwise, they would treat him well for the present. But warriors, Shawnees, Miamis and Wyandots, were all about him. They took good care that such a prisoner should not have a chance to escape. He might overthrow two or three, even four or five, but a score more would be on him at once. Henry knew this well and bore himself more as if he were a member of the band than a captive. It was a part of his policy to appear cheerful and contented. No Indian should surpass him in careless and apparent indifference, but to-night he felt gloomier than at any time since the moments that immediately followed his capture. He had relied upon the faithful four, but days had passed without a sign from them. There had been no chance, of course, for them to rescue him. He had not expected that, but what he had expected was a sign. They were skillful, masters of wilderness knowledge, but accidents might happen--one had happened to him--and they might have fallen into the hands of some other band.