Henry had but one fear just now, and that was dogs. If the
Indians had any of their mongrel curs with them, they would
quickly scent him out and give the alarm with their barking. But
he believed that the probabilities were against it. This, so he
thought then, was a war or hunting camp, and it was likely that
the Indians would leave the dogs at their permanent villages. At
any rate he would take the risk, and he drew slowly toward the
oak opening, where some Indians stood about. Beyond them, in
another dip of the valley, was a wider opening which he had not
seen on his first trip, and this contained not only bark
shelters, but buildings that indicated a permanent village. The
second and larger opening was filled with a great concourse of
warriors.

Fortunately the foliage around the opening was very dense, many
trees and thickets everywhere. Henry crept to the very rim,
where, lying in the blackest of the shadows, and well hidden
himself, he could yet see nearly everything in the camp. The men
were not eating now, although it was obvious that the hunters had
done well. The dressed bodies of deer and bear hung in the bark
shelters. Most of the Indians sat about the fires, and it seemed
to Henry that they had an air of expectancy. At least two
hundred were present, and all of them were in war paint, although
there were several styles of paint. There was a difference in
appearance, too, in the warriors, and Henry surmised that
representatives of all the tribes of the Iroquois were there,
coming to the extreme western boundary or fringe of their
country.