The three uttered low cries of joy when they saw the second figure sitting on the log beside that of Shif'less Sol. Then they ran forward, grasped his hands, and wrung them. "How did you escape, Henry?" exclaimed Paul, his face glowing. "Shucks! he didn't escape," said Shif'less Sol, calmly. "Henry owes everything that he is now, includin' o' his life, to me. I wuz scoutin' up by the Wyandot village, an' I captured in the thickets that thar chief they call White Lightnin'--Timmendiquas he told me wuz his high-toned Injun name. I took him with my hands, not wishin' to hurt him 'cause I had somethin' in mind. Then I said to him: 'Look at me,' an' when he looked he began to tremble so bad that the beads on his moccasins played ez fine a tune ez I ever heard. 'Is your name Hyde?' said he. 'It is,' said I. 'Solomon Hyde?' said he. 'Yes,' said I. 'The one they call Shif'less Sol?' said he. 'Yes,' said I. 'Then,' said he, 'O great white warrior, I surrender the whole Wyandot village to you at once.' "I told him I didn't want the whole Wyandot village ez I wouldn't know what to do with it ef I had it. But I said to him, puttin' on my skeriest manner: 'You've got in your village a prisoner, a white boy named Henry Ware, a feller that I kinder like. Now you go in that an' send him out to me, an' be mighty quick about it, 'cause ef you don't I might git mad, an' then I can't tell myself what's goin' to happen.' "An' do you know, Saplin'," he continued, turning a solemn face upon Jim Hart, "that they turned Henry over to me out thar in the woods inside o' three minutes. An' ef I do say it myself, they got off pow'ful cheap at the price, an' I'm not runnin' down Henry, either." Long Jim Hart, a most matter-of-fact man, stared at the shiftless one. "Do you know, Sol Hyde," he said indignantly, "that I believe more'n half the things you're tellin' are lies!" Shif'less Sol burst into a laugh. "I never tell lies, Saplin'," he said. "It's only my gorgeeyus fancy playin' aroun' the facts an' touchin' 'em up with gold an' silver lights. A hoe cake is nothin' but a hoe cake to Saplin' thar, but to me it's somethin' splendid to look at an' to eat, the support o' life, the creater o' muscle an' strength an' spirit, a beautiful thing that builds up gran' specimens o' men like me, somethin' that's wrapped up in poetry." "Ef you could just live up to the way you talk, Sol Hyde," said Long Jim, "you'd shorely be a pow'ful big man." "Maybe Indians have heard our calls," said Henry, "and if so, they'll come to look into the cause of them. Suppose we go on four or five miles and then sleep, all except one, who will watch." "The right thing to do," said Tom Ross briefly, and they proceeded at once, Tom leading the way, while Henry and Paul, who followed close behind, talked in low voices. A long, lonesome sound came from the north, and then was repeated three or four times. Henry laughed.