directly at the inquisitive head.

The hot end of the stick struck squarely between the yellow eyes.
There was a yelp of pain, and the boy heard the rapid pad of the
big cat's feet as it fled into the swamp. Then he turned over on
his side, and laughed in genuine pleasure at what was to him a
true forest joke. He knew the panther would not come, at least
not while he was in the hut, and he calmly closed his eyes once
more. The old Henry was himself again.

He awoke in the morning to find that the cold rain was still
falling. It seemed to him that it had prepared to rain forever,
but he was resolved, nevertheless, now that he had food and the
strength that food brings, to begin the search for his comrades.
The islet in the swamp would serve as his base-nothing could be
better-and he would never cease until he found them or discovered
what had become of them.

A little spring of cold water flowed from the edge of the islet
to lose itself quickly in the swamp. Henry drank there after his
breakfast, and then felt as strong and active as ever. As he
knew, the mind may triumph over the body, but the mind cannot
save the body without food. Then he made his precious bear meat
secure against the prowling panther or others of his kind, tying
it on hanging boughs too high for a jump and too slender to
support the weight of a large animal. This task finished
quickly, he left the swamp and returned toward the spot where lie
had seen the Mohawks.

The falling rain and the somber clouds helped Henry, in a way, as