White Lightning bowed gravely. He and Henry touched hands again, and each withdrew, the chief into the morass, while Henry walked back toward his comrades, holding himself erect, as if no enemy were near. The four rose up to greet him. They had heard part of what was said, and Henry quickly told them the rest. “He's shorely a great chief,” said Shif'less Sol. “He'll keep his word, too. Them people on ahead ain't got anything more to fear from pursuit.” “He's a statesman, too,” said Henry. “He sees what damage the deeds of Wyoming Valley will do to those who have done them. He thinks our people will now send a great army against the Iroquois, and I think so, too.” “No nation can stand a thing like that,” said Paul, “and I didn't dream it could happen.” They now left the oasis, and went swiftly along the trail left by the fugitives. All of them had confidence in the word of Timmendiquas. There was a remote chance that some other band had entered the swamp at a different point, but it was remote, indeed, and it did not trouble them much. Night was now over the great swamp. The sun no longer came through the gray clouds, but here and there were little flashes of flame made by fireflies. Had not the trail been so broad and deep it could easily have been lost, but, being what it was, the skilled eyes of the frontiersmen followed it without trouble. “Some uv 'em are gittin' pow'ful tired,” said Tom Ross, looking at the tracks in the mud. Then he suddenly added: “Here's whar one's quit forever.” A shallow grave, not an hour old, had been made under some bushes, and its length indicated that a woman lay there. They passed it by in silence. Henry now appreciated more fully than ever the mercy of Timmendiquas. The five and Carpenter could not possibly have protected the miserable fugitives against the great chief, with fifty Wyandots and Iroquois at his back. Timmendiquas knew this, and he had done what none of the Indians or white allies around him would have done. In another hour they saw a man standing among some vines, but watchful, and with his rifle in the hollow of his arm. It was Carpenter, a man whose task was not less than that of the five. They were in the thick of it and could see what was done, but he had to lead on and wait. He counted the dusk figures as they approached him, one, two, three, four, five, and perhaps no man ever felt greater relief. He advanced toward them and said huskily: “There was no fight! They did not attack!” “There was a fight,” said Henry, “and we beat them back; then a second and a larger force came up, but it was composed chiefly of Wyandots, led by their great chief, Timmendiquas. He came forward and said that they would not pursue women and children, and that we could go in safety.” Carpenter looked incredulous. “It is true,” said Henry, “every word of it.” “It is more than Brant would have done,” said Carpenter, “and it saves us, with your help.”