THE PROTECTING RIVER
The Ohio was the great stream of the borderers. It was the artery that
led into the vast, rich new lands of the west, upon its waters many of
them came, and upon its current and along its banks were fought
thrilling battles between white men and red. Many a race for life was
made upon its bosom, but none was ever carried on with more courage and
energy than the one now occurring.
They kept well to the middle of the stream, which was still of great
width, a full mile across, where they would be safe from shots from
either shore, until the river narrowed, and although they sent the canoe
along very fast, they did not use their full strength, keeping a reserve
for the greater emergency which was sure to come.
Meanwhile they worked like a machine. The arms of five rose together and
five paddles made a single plash. In the returning moonlight the water
took on a silver color, and it fell away in masses of shimmering bubbles
from the paddle blades. Before them the river spread its vast width, at
once a channel of escape and of danger. The forest yet rose on either
bank, a solid mass of green, in which nothing stirred, and from which no
sound came.
The silence, save for the swish of the paddles, was brooding and full of
menace. Paul, so sensitive to circumstance, felt as if it were a sullen
sky, out of which would suddenly come a blazing flash of lightning. But
to Henry the greatest anxiety was the narrowing of the river which must
come before long. The Ohio was not a mile wide everywhere, and when that
straightening of the stream occurred they would be within rifle shot of
the warriors on one bank or the other. And while the Indians were not
good marksmen, it was true that where there were many bullets not all
missed.
A quarter of an hour passed, and they heard the war-whoop behind them,
and then a few moments later the faint, rhythmic swish of paddles. The
moonlight had been deepening fast, and Henry saw two of the great canoes
appear, although they were yet a full half mile away. But they came on
at a mighty pace, and it was evident that unless bullets stopped them
they would overtake the fugitives. Henry put aside his paddle, leaving
the work for the present to the others, and studied the long canoes. He
and his comrades might strain as they would, but in an hour the big
boats filled with muscular warriors would be alongside. They must devise
some other method to elude the pursuit. A shout from Paul caused him to
turn.
A peninsula from the south projected into the river, making its width at
this point much less than half a mile, and upon the spit, which was
bare, stood several Indian warriors, rifle in hand and waiting.
"Turn the canoe in toward the northern shore," said Henry. "We must
chance a shot from that quarter, dealing with the seen danger, and
letting the unseen go. Sol, you and Tom take your rifles, and I'll take
mine too. Paul, you and Jim do the paddling and we'll see whether those
warriors on the sand stop us, or are just taking a heavy risk
themselves."
The canoe sheered off violently toward the northern bank, but did not
cease to move swiftly, as Paul and Jim alone were able to send it along
at a great rate. Henry, with his rifle lying in the hollow of his arm,
watched a large warrior standing on the edge of the water.
"I'll take the big fellow with the waving scalp lock," he said.
"The short, broad one by the side o' him is mine," said Shif'less Sol.
"Which is yours, Tom?"
"One with red blanket looped over his shoulder," replied the taciturn
rover.
"Be sure of your aim," said Henry. "We're running a gauntlet, but it's
likely to be as much of a gauntlet for those warriors as it is for us."
Perhaps the Indians on the spit did not know that the canoe contained
the best marksmen in the West, as they crowded closer to the water's
edge, uttered a yell or two of triumph and raised their own weapons. The
three rifles in the canoe flashed together and the big warrior, the
short, broad one, and the one with the red blanket looped over his
shoulder, fell on the sand. One of them got up again and fled with his
unhurt comrades into the forest, but the others lay quite still, with
their feet in the water. As the marksmen reloaded rapidly, Henry cried
to the paddlers:
"Now, boys, back toward the middle of the river and put all your might
in it!"
Paul and Long Jim swung the canoe into the main current, which had
increased greatly in strength here, owing to the narrowing of the
stream, and their paddles flashed fast. Two of the Indians who had fled
into the woods reappeared and fired at them, but their bullets fell
wide, and Henry, who had now rammed in the second charge, wounded one of
them, whereupon they fled to cover as quickly as they did the first
time.
Shif'less Sol and Tom Ross had also reloaded, but put their rifles in
the bottom of the boat and resumed their paddles. The danger on the land
spit had been passed, but the great canoes behind them were hanging on
tenaciously and were gaining, not rapidly, but with certainty. Henry
swept them again with a measuring eye, and he saw no reason to change
his calculations.
"They'll come within rifle shot in just about an hour," he repeated.
"We'd pick off some of them with our bullets, but they'd keep on coming
anyhow, and that would be the end of us."
Such a solemn statement would have daunted any but those who had escaped
many great dangers. Imminent and deadly as was the peril, it did not
occur to any of the five that they would not evade it, the problem now
being one of method rather than result.
"What are we going to do, Henry?" asked Paul.
"I don't know yet," replied the leader, "but we'll keep going until
something develops."
"Thar's your development!" exclaimed the shiftless one, as a rifle was
fired from the northern shore, and a bullet plashed in the water just
ahead of them. Then came a second shot from the same source which struck
the inoffensive river behind them. They were now being attacked from
both banks while the great canoes followed tenaciously.
"We don't have to bother about one thing," said Paul grimly. "We know
which way to go, and it's the only way that's open to us."
But the threat offered by the northern shore did not seem to be so
menacing. The river began to widen again and rapidly, and the scattered
shots fired later on came from a great distance, falling short. Those
discharged from the southern bank also missed the mark as widely. Henry
no longer paid any attention to them, but was examining the forest and
the curves of the river with a minute scrutiny. His look, which had been
very grave, brightened suddenly, and a reassuring flash appeared in his
eye.
"What is it, Henry?" asked Shif'less Sol, who had noticed the change.
"We've been along here before," replied the great youth. "I know the
shores now, and it's mighty lucky for us that we are just where we are."
The shiftless one looked at the northern, then at the southern forest,
and shook his head.
"I don't 'pear to recall it," he said. "The woods, at this distance
away, look like any other woods at night, black an' mighty nigh solid."
"It's not so much the forest, because, like you, I couldn't tell it from
any other, as it is the curve of the river. I thought I saw something
familiar in it a little while ago, and now I know by the sound that I'm
right."
"Sound! What sound?"
"Turn your ears down the river and listen as hard as you can. After a
while you'll hear a faint humming."
"So I do, Henry, but I wouldn't hev noticed it ef you hadn't told me
about it, an' even ef I do hear it I don't know what it means."
"It's made by the rush of a great volume of water, Sol. It's the Falls
of the Ohio, that not many white men have yet seen, a gradual sort of
fall, one that boats can go over without trouble most of the time, but
which, owing to the state of the river, are just now at their highest."
"An' you mean fur them falls to come in between us an' the big canoes?
You're reckonin' on water to save us?"
"That's what I have in mind, Sol. The falls are dangerous at this stage
of the river, no doubt about it, but we're not canoemen for nothing, and
with our lives at stake we'll not think twice before shooting 'em. What
say you, boys?"
"The falls fur me!" replied the shiftless one, quickly.
"Nothin' could keep me from takin' the tumble. I jest love them falls,"
said Long Jim.
"It's that or nothing," said Paul.
"On!" said Silent Tom.
"Then ease a little with your paddles," said Henry. "The Indians know,
of course, that the falls are just ahead, and I notice they are not now
pushing us so hard. It follows, then, that the falls are at a dangerous
height they don't often reach, and they expect to trap us."
"In which they will be mighty well fooled."
"I think so. I'll sit in the prow of the boat and do my best with my
paddle to guide. I believe we can shoot the falls all right, but maybe
we'll be swamped in the rapids below. But we're all good swimmers, and,
if we do go over, every fellow must swim for the northern bank, where
the Indians are fewest. Some one of us must manage to save his rifle and
ammunition or we'd be lost, even if we happened to reach the land.
Still, it's possible that we can keep afloat. It's a good canoe."
"A good canoe!" exclaimed the shiftless one, in whom the spirit of
achievement and of triumph was rising again. "It's the finest canoe on
all this great river, and didn't I tell you boys that them that's bold
always win! Jest when our last chance 'peared to be gone, these falls
wuz put squar'ly in our track to save us! Will they wreck us? No, they
won't! We'll shoot 'em like a bird on the wing!"
He looked back at their pursuers, and gave utterance suddenly to a long,
piercing shout of defiance. The Indians in the canoes replied with war
whoops that Henry could read easily. They expressed faith in speedy
triumph, and joy over the destruction of the five. He saw, moreover,
that they were using only half strength now, preferring to take their
ease while the game struggled vainly in the net. But as well as many of
these warriors knew the five they did not know them to the full.
The shiftless one waited until their last war whoop died, and then,
sending forth once more his long, thrilling note of defiance, he burst
again into his triumphal chant.
"Steady now with the paddles, boys," he cried, "an' we'll ride the water
ez ef we'd done nothin' else all our lives! Oh, I love rivers, big
rivers, speshully when they hev a strong current like this that takes
your boat 'long an' you don't hev to do no work! Now it reaches up a
thousand hands that grab our canoe an' sail 'long with it! Don't paddle
any more, boys, but jest hold yourselves ready to do it, when needed!
The river's doin' all the work, an' it never gits tired! Look, now, how
the current's a-rushin', an' a-dancin', an' a-hummin'! Look at the white
water 'roun' us! Look at the water behind us, an' hear the roarin'
before us! Thar, she rocks, but never min' that! Wait till the water
comes spillin' in! Then it will be time to use the paddles!"
He burst once more into that irrepressible yell of defiance, and then he
cried exultantly:
"They slow up! They're gittin' afeard! We've made the race too fast fur
'em! Come on, you warriors! Ain't you ready to go whar we will? These
falls are fine an' we jest love to play with 'em! We are goin' to sail
down 'em, an' then we're goin' to sail back up 'em ag'in! Don't you hear
all that roarin'? It's the tumblin' o' the water, an' it's singin' a
song to you, tellin' you to come!"
The shiftless one's own tremendous song had a thrilling effect upon his
comrades. Their spirits leaped with it. The rushing canoe was now
dancing upon the surface of the river, but somehow they were not afraid.
They were at that reach of the river where a great city was destined to
grow upon the southern shore, and which was to be the scene, a year or
two later, of other activities of theirs, but now both banks were in
solid, black forest, and no human habitation had yet appeared.
The canoe was rocking dangerously and all five began to use the paddles
now and then, as the white water foamed around them. It required the
utmost quickness of eye and hand to keep afloat, and the flying spray
soon wet them through and through. Yet the soul of Shif'less Sol was
still undaunted. He sang his song of victory, and although most of the
words were lost amid the crash and roar of the waters, their triumphant
note rose above every other sound, and found an echo in the hearts of
the others.
Henry, looking back, saw that the long canoes had turned and were making
for the southern shore. Great as was the prize they sought, they would
not dare the falls, and half the battle was won.
"They don't follow!" he shouted at the top of his voice. "And now for
the miracle that will keep us afloat!"
The canoe raced down the watery slope and the spray continued to drench
them, though they had taken the precaution to cover up their rifles and
ammunition. But their surpassing skill had its reward. The descent soon
became more gradual, the torrents of white water sank, and then they
slid forward in the rapids, still going at a great rate, but no longer
in danger.
"An' we've left the enemy behind!" sang the shiftless one, looking back
at the white masses. "He thought he had us, but he hadn't! He turned
back at the steep slope, but we came on! Thar's nothin' like havin' a
fall between you an' a lot o' pursuin' Injun canoes, is thar, Paul?"
Paul laughed, half in amusement and half in nervous relief.
"No, Sol, there isn't, at least not now," he replied. "It looks as if
these falls had been put here especially to save us."
"I like to think so, too," said the shiftless one.
The river was still very wide and they kept the canoe in its center,
although they no longer dreaded Indian shots, feeling quite sure that no
warriors were on either shore below the falls. So they went on three or
four miles, until Paul asked what was the next plan.
"We must talk it over, all of us," said Henry. "The canoe is of no
particular use to us except as a way of escape from immediate danger."
"But it and the falls together saved us," said Shif'less Sol. "Oh, it's
a good boat, a fine boat, a friendly boat!"
"I hate to desert a friend."
"It must be done. We can't stay forever on the river in a canoe. That
would merely invite destruction. The Indians can take their canoes out
of the water, carry them around the falls and resume the pursuit."
"O' course I know you're right, Henry. I wuz jest droppin' a tear or two
over the partin' with our faithful canoe. We make fur the north bank, I
s'pose."
"That seems to me to be the right course, because the warriors will be
thicker on the south side. We'll keep our policy of defense against them
by resuming the offense. What say you, Paul?"
"I choose the north bank."
"And you, Jim?"
"North, uv course."
"And you, Tom?"
"North."
"And Sol and I have already spoken. We'll make for the low point across
there, sink the canoe and go into the forest. The Indians will be sure
in time to pick up our trail and follow us, but we'll escape 'em as
we've escaped twice already."
"Red Eagle and Yellow Panther will come for us now," said Paul. "It's
their turn next."
"Let 'em," said Long Jim in sanguine tones. "They can't beat us."
They were now out of the rapids and were paddling swiftly toward the
northern shore, with their eyes on a small cove, where the bushes grew
thick to the water's edge. When they reached it they pushed the canoe
into the dense thicket and sank it.
"After all," said Shif'less Sol, "we're not partin' wholly with our
friend. We know whar he is, an' he'll wait here until some time or other
when we want him ag'in."
Gathering up their arms, ammunition and supplies, they traveled
northward through the dense forest until they came to a small and well
sheltered valley, where they concluded to rest, it being full time, as
collapse was coming fast after their great exertions and intense strain.
Nevertheless, Silent Tom was able to keep the first watch, while the
others threw themselves on the ground and went to sleep almost
instantly.
Tom had promised to awaken Shif'less Sol in two hours, but he did not do
so. He knew how much his comrades needed rest, and being willing to
sacrifice himself, he watched until dawn, which came bright, cold at
first, and then full of grateful warmth, a great sun hanging in a vast
disc of reddish gold over the eastern forest.
Silent Tom Ross, in his most talkative moments, was a man of few words,
at other times of none, but he felt deeply. A life spent wholly in the
woods into which he fitted so supremely had given him much of the Indian
feeling. He, too, peopled earth, air and water with spirits, and to him
the wild became incarnate. The great burning sun, at which he took
occasional glances, was almost the same as the God of the white man and
the Manitou of the red man. He had keenly appreciated their danger, both
when Henry was at the hollow, and when they were in the canoe on the
river, hemmed in on three sides. And yet they had come safely from both
nets. The skill of the five had been great, but more than human skill
had helped them to escape from such watchful and powerful enemies.
Tom Ross, as he looked at the faces of his comrades, knitted to him by
so many hardships and perils shared, was deeply grateful. He took one or
two more glances at the great burning sun, and the sky that looked like
illimitable depths of velvet blue, and then he surveyed the whole circle
of the forest curving around them. It was silent there, no sign of a foe
appeared, all seemed to be as peaceful as a great park in the Old World.
Tom said no words, not even to himself, but his prayer of thanks ran:
"O Lord, I offer my gratitude to Thee for the friends whom Thou hast
given me. As they have been faithful to me in every danger, so shall I
try to be faithful to them. Perhaps my mind moves more slowly than
theirs, but I strive always to make it move in the right way. They are
younger than I am, and I feel it my duty and my pleasure, too, to watch
over them, despite their strength of body, mind and spirit. I have not
the gift of words, nor do I pray for it, but help me in other things
that I may do my part and more."
Then Tom Ross felt uplifted. The dangers passed were passed, and those
to come could not press upon him yet. He was singularly light of heart,
and the wind sang among the leaves for him, though not in words, as it
sang often for Henry.
He took another look at his comrades, and they still slept as if they
would never awake. The strain of the preceding nights and days had been
tremendous, and their spirits, having gone away with old King Sleep to
his untroubled realms, showed no signs of a wish to come back again to a
land of unlimited peril. He had promised faithfully to awaken one of
them long ago for the second turn at the watch, and he knew that all of
them expected to be up at sunrise, but he had broken his promise and he
was happy in the breaking of it.
Nor did he awaken them now. Instead he made a wide circle through the
forest, using his good eyes and good ears to their utmost. The stillness
had gone, because birds were singing from pure joy at the dawn, and the
thickets rustled with the movements of small animals setting about the
day's work and play. But Silent Tom knew all these sounds, and he paid
no attention to them. Instead he listened for man, man the vengeful, the
dangerous and the deadly, and hearing nothing from him and being sure
that he was not near, he went back to the place where the four sleepers
lay. Examining them critically he saw that they had not stirred a
particle. They had been so absolutely still that they had grown into the
landscape itself.
Tom Ross smiled a deep smile that brought his mouth well across his face
and made his eyes crinkle up, and then, disregarding their wishes with
the utmost lightness of heart, he sat himself down, calmly letting them
sleep on. He produced from an inside pocket a long stretch of fine,
thin, but very strong cord, and ran it through his fingers until he came
to the sharp hook on the end. It was all in good trim, and his questing
eye soon saw where a long, slender pole could be cut. Then he put thread
and hook back in his pocket, and sat as silent as the sleepers, but
bright-eyed and watchful. No one could come near without his knowledge.
Shif'less Sol awoke first, yawning mightily, but he did not yet open his
eyes.
"Who's watchin'?" he called.
"Me," replied Ross.
"Is it day yet?"
"Look up an' see."
The shiftless one did look up, and when he beheld the great sun shining
almost directly over his head he exclaimed in surprise:
"Why, Tom, is it today or tomorrer?"
"It's today, though I guess it's well on to noon."
"Seein' the sun whar it is, an' feelin' now ez ef I had slep' so long, I
thought mebbe it might be tomorrer. An' it bein' so late an' me
sleepin', too, it looks ez ef the warriors ought to hev us."
"But they hevn't, Sol. All safe."
"No, Tom, they hevn't got us, an' now, hevin' learned from your long an'
volyble conversation that it ain't tomorrer an' that we are free, 'stead
o' bein' taken captive an' bein' burned at the stake by the Injuns, I'm
feelin' mighty fine."
"Sol, you talk real foolish at times. How could we be took by the Injuns
an' be burned alive at the stake, an' not know nothin' 'bout it?"
"Don't ask me, Tom. Thar are lots o' strange things that I don't pretend
to understan', an' me a smart man, too. Here, you, Jim Hart! Wake up!
Shake them long legs an' arms o' yours an' cook our breakfast!"
Silent Tom began to laugh, not audibly, but his lips moved in such a
manner that they betrayed risibility. The shiftless one looked at him
suspiciously.
"Tom Ross," he said, "what you laughin' at?"
"You told Long Jim to cook breakfast, didn't you?"
"I shorely did, an' I meant it, too."
"He ain't."
"Why ain't he?"
"Because he ain't."
"Ef he ain't, then why ain't he?"
"Because thar ain't any."
"Thar ain't any breakfast, you mean?"
"Jest what I say. He ain't goin' to cook breakfast, 'cause thar ain't
any to cook, an' thar ain't no more to say."
Henry and Paul, awakening at the sound of the voices, sat up and caught
the last words.
"Do you mean to tell us, Tom," exclaimed Paul, "that we have nothing to
eat?"
"Shorely," said Silent Tom triumphantly. "Look! See!"
All of them examined their packs quickly, but they had eaten the last
scrap of food the day before. Silent Tom's mouth again stretched across
his face with triumph and his eyes crinkled up.
"Right, ain't it?" he asked exultantly.
"Look here you, Tom Ross," exclaimed Shif'less Sol, indignantly, "you'd
rather be right an' starve to death than be wrong an' live!"
"Right, ain't I?"
"Yes, right, ain't you, 'bout the food, an' wrong in everythin' else. Ef
you say 'ain't' to me ag'in, Tom Ross, inside o' a week, I'll club you
so hard over the head with your own gun that you won't be able to speak
another word fur a year! The idee o' you laughin' an' me plum' dead with
hunger! Why, I could eat a hull big buffler by myself, an' ef he wuzn't
cooked I could eat him alive, an' on the hoof too, so I could!"
Tom Ross continued to laugh silently with his eyes and lips.
"What are we to do?" asked Paul in dismay. "If we were to find game we
wouldn't dare fire at it with the Indians perhaps so near."
"True," said Tom Ross.
"And if we can't fire at it we certainly can't catch it with our hands."
"True," said Tom Ross.
"And then are we to starve to death?"
"No," said Tom Ross.
Paul did not ask anything more, but his questioning look was on the
silent man.
"Fish," said Tom Ross, showing his line and hook.
"Where?" asked Shif'less Sol.
"Fine, clear creek, only hundred yards away."
"Do you know that it hez any fish in it?"
"Saw 'em little while ago. Fine big fellers, bass."
"Then be quick an' ketch a lot, 'cause the pangs o' starvation are
already on me."
Tom Ross cut the slim pole that he had already picked out and measured
with his eye, took squirming bait from the soft earth under a stone,
just as millions of boys in the Mississippi valley have done, and
started for the creek, Paul being delegated to accompany him, while
Henry, Long Jim and the shiftless one proceeded to build a fire in the
most secluded spot they could find. There was danger in a fire, but they
could shield the smoke, or at least most of it, and the risk must be
taken anyhow. They could not eat raw the fish which they did not doubt
for a moment Tom Ross would soon bring.
Meanwhile Paul and Tom reached the banks of the creek, which was all the
silent one had claimed for it, fifteen feet wide, two feet deep, clear
water, flowing over a pebbly bottom. Tom tied his string to the pole,
and threw in the hook and bait.
"You watch, I fish," he said.
Paul, his rifle in the crook of his arm, strolled a little bit down the
stream, examining the forest and listening attentively for any hostile
sound. Since it was his business to protect the fisherman while he
fished, he meant to protect him well, and no enemy could have come near
without being observed by him. And yet he had enough detachment from the
dangers of their situation to drink deep in the beauty of the
wilderness, which was here a tangle of green forest, shot with wild
flowers and cut by clear running waters.
But he did not go so far that he failed to hear a thump where Tom Ross
was sitting, and he knew that a fine fish had been landed. Presently a
second thump came to his ear, and, glancing through the bushes, he saw
Tom taking the fish off the hook, a look of intense satisfaction on his
face. Then the silent fisherman threw in the line again and leaned back
luxuriously against the trunk of a tree, while he waited for his third
bite. Paul smiled. He knew that Silent Tom was happy, happy because he
had prepared for and was achieving a necessary task.
Paul went on in a circuit about the fisherman, crossing the creek lower
down, where it was narrower, on a fallen log, and discovered no sign of
a foe, though he did come to a bed of wild flowers, the delicate pale
blue of which pleased him so much that he broke off two blossoms and
thrust them into his deerskin tunic. Then he came back to Silent Tom, to
find that he had caught four fine large fish, and, having thrown away
his pole, was winding up his line.
"'Nuff," said the silent one.
"I think so, too," said Paul, "and now we'll hurry back with 'em."
"Look like a flower garden, you!"
"If I do I'm glad of it."
"Like it myself."
"I know you do, Tom. I know that however you may appear, and that
however fierce and warlike you may be at times, your character rests
upon a solid bedrock of poetry."
Tom stared and then smiled, and by this time the two had returned with
their spoils to a little valley in which a little fire was burning, with
the blaze smothered already, but a fine bed of coals left. The fish were
cleaned with amazing quickness, and then Long Jim broiled them in a
manner fit for kings. The five ate hungrily, but with due regard for
manners.
"You're a good fisherman, Tom Ross," said Shif'less Sol, "but it ought
to be my job."
"Why?"
"'Cause it's the job o' a lazy man. I reckon that all fishermen,
leastways them that fish in creeks an' rivers, are lazy, nothin' to do
but set still an' doze till a fish comes along an' hooks hisself on to
your bait. Then you jest hev to heave him in an' put the hook back in
the water ag'in."
"There's enough of the fish left for another meal," said Henry, "and I
think we'd better put it in our packs and be off."
"You still favor a retreat into the north?" said Paul.
"Yes, and toward the northeast, too. We'll go in the direction of Piqua
and Chillicothe, their big towns. As we've concluded over and over
again, the offensive is the best defensive, and we'll push it to the
utmost. What's your opinion, Sol? Who do you think will be the next
leader to come against us?"
"Red Eagle an' the Shawnees. I'm thinkin' they're curvin' out now to
trap us, an' that Red Eagle is a mighty crafty fellow."
They trod out the coals, threw some dead leaves over them, and took a
course toward the northeast. It seemed pretty safe to assume that the
ring of warriors was thickest in the south, and that they might slip
through in the north. Time and distance were of little importance to
them, and they felt able to find their rations as they went in the
forest.
They had been traveling about an hour at the easy walk of the border,
when they heard a long cry behind them.
"They've found the dead coals o' our fire," said Shif'less Sol.
"Which means that they're not so far away," said Paul.
"But we've been comin' over rocky ground, an' the trail ain't picked up
so easy. An' we might make it a lot harder by wadin' a while up this
branch."
The brook fortunately led in the direction in which they wished to go.
They walked in it a full half mile, and as it had a sandy bottom their
footprints vanished almost at once. When they emerged at last they heard
the long cry again, now from a point toward the east, and then a distant
answer from a point in the west. Shif'less Sol laughed with intense
enjoyment.
"Guessin'! Jest guessin'!" he said. "They've found the dead coals an'
they know that we wuz thar once, but that now we ain't, an' it's not
whar we wuz but whar we ain't that's botherin' 'em."
"Still," said Paul, "the more distance we put between them and us the
better I, for one, will like it."
"You're right, Paul," said Shif'less Sol. "I guess we'd better shake our
feet to a lively tune."
They increased their walk to a trot, and fled through the great forest.