"I brought with me the new uniform of our army and I put it on. It is the first time that I have ever worn in battle the uniform of what I trust will prove to be a new nation. I serve in the deep wilderness, but still I serve." Henry might have smiled at such precision of speech and a certain formality of manner, but he knew it to be the result of a military training, and it did not decrease his liking for the Major. "I've slept well and I'm rested," he replied. "What damage did they do to us last night?" "Two of our men were slain--brave fellows--and we have already buried them. Five more were wounded, but none severely. Do you think, Mr. Ware, that having had a taste of our mettle, they have withdrawn?" "No," replied Henry emphatically. "They wouldn't think of leaving. They, too, must have suffered little loss. You see, sir, the darkness protected both sides, and they are in the woods there now, trying to think of the easiest way to take Fort Prescott." But Henry, as he spoke, turned his eyes from the woods toward the river, and Major Braithwaite, impressed even more in the daylight than in the night by his manner and appearance, noticed it. The Major, although not a skilled forest fighter, despite his experience in the great French and Indian war, was a shrewd observer and judge of mankind. "Why do you look so often and with so much anxiety toward the Ohio?" he asked. "What do you expect there?" "I believe it's our greatest source of danger." "In what way?" "I don't know, I may be mistaken," replied Henry, not wishing to cause an alarm that might prove groundless. "We must pay attention to the forest just now. Something is moving there." He was looking again toward the green wall, upon which a white spot suddenly appeared. "It's a white cloth of some kind," said Major Braithwaite. "That means a flag of truce. Now what in the name of Neptune can they want?" "We'll soon see," said Henry, as he and the Major advanced to the palisade and stepped upon the ledge. Many others did the same, and not a few among them were women and children. The Major did not send them away, as a bullet from the forest could not reach them there. A man came from among the trees, waving a white rag on a stick, but stopped out of rifle shot. The man was tanned almost as brown as an Indian, and he was dressed in Indian style, but his features were undoubtedly Caucasian. "Do you know who he is?" asked the Major. "Yes," replied Henry, "it is the worst scoundrel in all the west, the leader of the men who fight against their own people, the king of the renegades, Simon Girty." "Girty coming to us under a white flag!" exclaimed the Major. "What can he want?" "We'll soon see," said Henry. "Look, there are the chiefs."