The beads of sweat stood out on Henry's forehead, and he believed that he could hear his sinews and those of his opponent crack as they put forth prodigious efforts. Both fell to the ground and rolled over and over. Then they were back on their feet again, without ever releasing their hold. Henry tried to reach the knife in his belt, and the Indian sought his, too. Both failed, and then, Henry, crouching a little, suddenly put his shoulder against his antagonist's chest, and pushed with all his might. At the same time he hooked his right foot around the Indian's ankle and pulled with a mighty jerk. It was a trick, the device of a wrestler, and the great Indian, losing his balance, went down heavily upon his back. Henry fell with his full weight upon him. The Indian uttered a gasp, and his grasp relaxed. Henry in an instant sprang to his feet. He snatched up his rifle that he had dropped in the bushes, and when the fallen man rose the muzzle of a loaded rifle, held by steady hands, confronted him. Henry looked down the sights straight into the face of the Indian, and beheld Timmendiquas, the great White Lightning of the Wyandots. Timmendiquas saw the flash of recognition on the boy's face and smiled faintly. "Shoot," he said. "You have won the chance." Conflicting emotions filled the soul of Henry Ware. If he spared Timmendiquas it would cost the border many lives. The Wyandot chief could never be anything but the implacable foe of those who were invading the red man's hunting grounds. But Henry remembered that this man had saved his life. He had spared him when he was compelled to run the gantlet. The boy could not shoot. "Go!" he said, lowering his rifle. "You gave me my life, and I give you yours." A sudden light glowed in the eyes of the young chief. There was something akin in the souls of these two, and perhaps Timmendiquas alone knew it. He raised one hand, gave a salute in the white man's fashion, and said four words. "I shall not forget." Then he was gone in the forest, and Henry went back to the battle field, where the firing had now wholly ceased. The white victory was complete. Many Indians had fallen. Their losses here and at the river had been so great that it would be long before they could be brought into action again. But the renegades had made good their escape. They did not find the body of a single one of them, and it was certain that they were living to do more mischief. Henry sought his friends at once, and his joy was very great when he discovered them to be without wounds save those of the slightest nature. The leaders, too, had escaped with their lives, and they were exultant because they had captured a thousand rounds of ammunition for the two cannon and four hundred good muskets from the Canadian posts, which would be taken with the other supplies to Pittsburgh. "It was worth stopping and fighting for these," said Adam Colfax. * * * * *