He dropped upon the ground and gasped for breath. His brain swam; his throat was on fire. Red and green lights flashed before his eyes; and rills of sweat trickled down his powder-stained face. He had received a knife thrust in the right arm and a tomahawk cut in the left shoulder. These superficial wounds had bled freely and saturated his hunting-shirt. He was completely exhausted. For several minutes, he lay breathing hard and listening for the footfalls of his pursuers. But the stillness was broken only by his own labored respiration and the querulous twitter of birds among the boughs above him. He began to recover his wind. His limbs ceased to tremble; he felt his strength returning. But his thirst was tormenting; he must have water. With some difficulty he got upon his feet and looked about him. The dense, leafless wood stretched away on all sides as far as he could see. Near him was a pool of dark-colored water—stained with the ooze of the forest. It was warm and mawkish; but he drank of it with avidity. “There!” he panted, “I feel much better. Now I must find a hiding-place; the woods is swarming with my foes. When night comes I’ll make my way to the shore, swim the river, and attempt to gain the fort. What an awful day’s work this has been—hundreds dead, hundreds captured!” Then, after a pause: “But I must get my bearings. Let me see. Where’s the sun? I’m far back of the battle-ground, and farther down the river. Fort Miami lies between me and Fort Meigs. I’ll bear to the right of it, and strike the stream at a point between the scene of to-day’s battle and the British encampment. But I must hide until nightfall—it wouldn’t be safe to make the attempt sooner. Well, I’m more fortunate than most of my rash comrades; I’m yet alive and free. My wounds pain me some, but they’re not of a serious character. If I had something to eat, I should be all right. I wonder what has become of Duke. Faithful old fellow! No doubt he has been killed; else he would be at my side. No,——”—Reflectively,—“he may have escaped and made his way to Fort Meigs, with the few survivors. With the smell of blood in his nostrils, he wouldn’t be able to follow my trail. Well, I’ll hide myself and rest until dark. Then for Fort Meigs and safety!” Concealing his trail as well as he could, he pushed farther into the woods, leaving the river behind him. At last he lay down by a log and, hugging his empty rifle to his breast, fell asleep. When he awoke, the sun was setting and the forest was aflame with rosy light. Arising, he stretched his stiffened limbs and carefully examined his wounds. “Mere scratches,” he muttered. “But I’m weak from fasting and loss of blood. Then, too, I have no arms but an empty gun and a knife. I shouldn’t like to encounter a score of savages just now.”—And he smiled grimly.—“But it’ll soon be dark. I’ll move toward the river.”