"A good capture," said another. "We must take him along. Gonawak, you must help to carry him."
"And what of the woman?" asked the warrior addressed as Gonawak, well known throughout that territory for his extreme cruelty.
"Talking Deer will take care of her," was the answer. "He is to take care of all of them until this raid is over."
But little more was said, and in a few minutes the unconscious form of the young hunter was picked up and borne through the forest in the direction of the nearest stream. As has been said, water leaves no trail, and for this reason the redmen instinctively used the shallow stream for a roadway.
When Henry regained his senses he found himself strapped to the back of a horse and moving slowly westward through the forest. The wound on his hand had been allowed to bleed itself out. He felt both weak and stiff and had a dull ache in his head, where the tomahawk had landed and raised a good-sized lump.
By a blaze on the animal's neck, Henry recognized the horse he rode as one belonging to a pioneer living in that vicinity. He was in the company of nine redmen, four of whom were mounted on stolen horses. From this he inferred that the Risley cabin was not the only one which had been attacked on that fatal night.
He looked around, but could see nothing of Mrs. Risley nor of any other captives. He was alone with the savage warriors, and what they intended to do with him there was no telling. But he had good reasons for believing that a horrible fate was in store for him.
"I must get away if I can," he thought. "They can't do any more than shoot me if I try to escape, and even that will be better than to be burnt at the stake."
The Indians now noticed that he had recovered consciousness, and one of them rode closer and said sharply:
"White hunter boy must keep still. If yell will strike him!" And he flourished his tomahawk threateningly.