Paul had been flicked across the hand by a bullet and Jim Hart shook two bullets out of his clothing, but they were practically unhurt and it was their object now to see the man Perley, who had been left at the edge of the forest. By the time they reached the open where the village had stood, the day was fully come. The Council House had fallen in and the poles and fragments of bark smoked on the ground. Nothing was left of the wigwam but ashes which the wind picked up and whirled about. The wounded man lay on his side and it was quite evident that his hurt was mortal, but his look became one of terror when the five came up.
"We do not mean to hurt you," said Henry; "we will make it as easy for you as we can."
"And the others," gasped the man. "You have beaten them in the battle, and they have fled, the Colonel with them."
"Yes," replied Henry, "they are gone, and with them Colonel—?"
The man looked up and smiled faintly. At the edge of death he read Henry's mind. He knew that he wished to obtain the name of the harelipped man and, sincere enemy of his own people though Perley was, he no longer had any objection to telling.
"Prop me up against that tree trunk," he gasped.
Henry did so, and Paul brought some water from the spring in his cap. The man drank and seemed a little stronger.
"You're better to me perhaps than I'd have been to you if it had been the other way round," he said, "an' I might as well tell you that the man with the harelip was Colonel Bird, a British officer, who is most active against your settlements, and who has become a great leader among the Indians. He's arranging now with the people at Detroit to strike you somewhere."
"Then I'm sorry my bullet didn't find him instead of you," said Tom Ross.
"So am I," said the man with a faint attempt at humor.