On his journey to the stable, the youth had carried a lantern,—a big, old-fashioned affair,—and this was still in his hand. Coming to the storeroom door he flashed the rays of the light inside.
What he saw caused him to start back in amazement, and for the moment he could not believe the evidence of his senses. The bundle was moving!
Henry stared for several seconds and as he did this he saw the hand of an Indian come forth from the bundle and clutch at one of the thin rawhides which held the skins together. Then he discovered that the foot of an Indian was sticking out of the other end of the bundle.
The perils of the wilderness, and of army life, had taught Henry to act quickly in case of an emergency, and setting down the lantern, he drew his hunting knife and rushed forward.
"Stop right where you are, you skunk!" he cried. "Don't dare to move another inch, or I'll stick you with this!" And as he uttered the words he let the point of the sharp hunting knife fall on the back of the Indian's hand.
There was a disappointed grunt from inside the bundle, and the hand was pulled back several inches. Henry had caught the rascal inside in the very act of liberating himself.
Stepping to the storehouse doorway the youth blew upon a whistle he carried. It was the signal that something was wrong, and in a moment Tony Jadwin came running to the spot.
"What's up, Henry?" he cried.
"I've got a prisoner. Collared him bound hand and foot too," and the youth had to smile at his own little joke.
"A prisoner? Where?" quickly asked James Morris, who was behind Jadwin.