The supreme intervention had been made in his favor, and he kept his eyes on his flying guide.
They crossed the valley and began the ascent of another and high hill, rough with rocky outcrops and a heavy growth of briars and vines.

His 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.