pace became slower of necessity and once or twice he thought he had
lost the blue flame, but it always reappeared, and, for the first
time since its flight from the bough, it sang a few notes, a clear
melodious treble, carrying far through the windy forest.

The lad believed that the song was meant for him. Clearly it said to
him to follow, and, with equal clearness, it told him that safety lay
only in the path he now traveled. He believed, with all the ardor of
his soul, and there was no weariness in his body as he climbed the
high hill. Near the summit, he heard on his right the long dying
Indian cry so full of menace, its answer to the left, and then a third
shout directly behind him. He understood. He was between the horns of
a crescent, and they were not far away. He left faint traces only as
he fled, but they had so much skill they could follow with speed, and
he was quite sure they expected to take him. This belief did not keep
his heart from beating high. They did not know how he was protected
and led, and there was the blue flame before him always showing him
the way. He reached the crest of the hill, and saw other hills, fold
on fold, lying before him. He had hoped to catch a glimpse of the lake
from the summit, but no glint of its waters came, and then he knew it
must yet be miles away. His heart sank for a moment. Andiatarocte had
appealed to him as a refuge. Just why he did not know, but he vaguely
expected to find safety there. Perhaps he would meet Willet and Tayoga
by its shore, and to him the three united always seemed invincible.

His courage was gone only an instant or two. Then it came back
stronger than ever. The note of his guide, clear and uplifting, rose
again, and he increased his speed, lest he be enclosed within those
horns. The far slope was rocky and he leaped from one stony outcrop to
another. Even if he could hide his trail only a few yards it would