He had remembered seeing Paul crouched behind a log, firing at the enemy, and no one had seen him afterwards.

He believed that the boy was lying there yet, slain, or, if fate were kinder, too badly wounded to move.

The line of retreat had slanted somewhat from the spot, and the savages might well have passed, in the dark, without noticing the boy's fallen body.
His own sense of direction was perfect, and he edged swiftly away toward the fallen log, behind which Paul had lain.

Many dark forms passed him, but none sought to stop him; the counterfeit was too good; all thought him one of themselves.
Presently Henry passed no more of the flitting warriors.

The battle was moving on toward the south and was now behind him.