THE RACE OF THE FIVE
They followed for a while in the trail of Girty and his band, and they
inferred from all the signs that the Indian force was still moving very
fast. The element of surprise would certainly be a great aid to those
who attacked, and Henry judged that this was not alone the plan of
Girty. The master mind of Timmendiquas was somewhere back of it.
The day marched on. The skies were without a cloud, and the sun became a
hot blue dome. No air stirred in the deep forest, and every face became
wet with perspiration, but the pace was not decreased until midway
between noon and twilight, when they stopped for another half hour of
complete rest.
They had left Girty's trail, but they had crossed several other trails,
evidently of bands varying in numbers from twenty to fifty. But all
converged on the point which their map showed to be Fort Prescott, and
the dangers had thickened greatly. They were now near the Ohio, and the
savages swarmed in all the woods before them. They must not merely reach
Fort Prescott, but to do it they must pass through a cloud of their
foes.
"I'm thinkin' that we'll have to fight before we reach the river," said
Shif'less Sol to Henry.
"More than likely," replied the boy. "But remember our agreement. Some
one of us must get into Fort Prescott."
"O' course," said Shif'less Sol.
When they started again they kept carefully into the deepest of the
woods, taking the thickets by preference. Their speed was decreased, but
they had reached the point now where it was of vital importance not to
be detected.
They passed the remains of two camp fires. At both the bones of buffalo
and deer, eaten clean, had been thrown about carelessly, and at the
second the ashes were not yet cold. Moreover, they began to hear the
Indian calls in the forest, cry of bird or beast, and Henry watched
anxiously for the setting sun. Warriors might strike their trail at any
moment, and darkness would be their greatest protection.
The sun had never before been so slow to sink, but at last it went down
under the horizon, and the dusky veil was drawn over the earth. But the
moon soon came out, an uncommonly brilliant moon, that flooded the
forest with a pure white light, so intense that they could mark every
ridge in the bark of the big trees. The stars, too, sprang out in
myriads, and contributed to the phenomenal brightness.
"This is bad," said Henry. "This is so much like daylight that I believe
they could follow our tracks."
The long plaintive howl of a wolf came from a point directly behind
them, not a quarter of a mile away.
"They hev it now," said Long Jim, "an' they're follerin' us fast."
"Then there is nothing to do but run," said Henry. "We must not stop to
fight if we can help it."
They broke into the long frontier trot, still heading south, slightly by
east, and they did not hear the plaintive cry again for a half hour, but
when it came it was nearer to them than before, and they increased their
gait. A mile further on, Henry, who was in the lead, stopped abruptly.
They had come to the steep banks of a wide and deep creek, a stream that
would be called a river in almost any other region.
"We can't wade it," said Tom Ross.
"Then we must swim it," said Shif'less Sol.
"Yes. But listen," said Henry Ware.
From a point up the stream came a low, measured beat, like a long sigh.
"Paddles," said Henry, speaking low, "and those paddles belong to Indian
canoes, at least a dozen of them. They are coming down the creek, which
must empty into the Ohio not a great many miles from here."
"If we run along the bank uv the creek we give them behind us a chance
to gain," said Tom Ross.
"And then be enclosed between the war party and the canoes," said Henry.
"No, we must swim for it at once. Every fellow tie his ammunition around
his neck, and hold his rifle above his head. If we have to fight we must
have weapons for the fighting."
His counsel was quickly taken, and then there was a plunk as he sprang
into the creek. Four more plunks followed almost instantly, as every one
leaped into the water in his turn. Four heads appeared above the surface
of the stream and, also, four outstretched arms holding rifles. It was
not such an easy task to swim with a single arm, but all five had
learned to do it, and across the creek they went, still in single file,
Henry leading the way. Here, with no boughs and leaves to intercept it,
the moonlight fell with uncommon brilliancy upon the water. The entire
surface of the creek, a deep and placid stream, was turned to molten
silver, shimmering slightly under the night wind. The heads, necks, and
outstretched arms of the swimmers were outlined perfectly against it.
Every feature of the five was disclosed, and behind them, shown clearly,
was the crumbling wake of every one.
They were compelled to swim somewhat with the stream, because the
opposite bank was so steep that to climb it would take time that could
not be spared. Henry, as he swam, with the strong, circular sweep of a
single arm, listened, and he heard the rhythmical sweep of the paddles
growing louder. The creek curved before him, and the steep bank, too
deep to climb at such a moment, was still there. He saw, too, that it
ran on for at least a hundred yards more, and meanwhile the canoes, with
nothing in their way, were coming swiftly. He could almost count the
strokes of the paddles.
He glanced back and looked into the eyes of Shif'less Sol directly
behind him. He knew by his comrade's look that he, too, had heard. The
faces of the others showed the same knowledge.
"Swim as fast as you can, boys," he whispered, "but be careful not to
splash the water!"
They scarcely needed this advice, because they were already making
supreme efforts. Meanwhile, the unconscious pursuit was coming nearer.
Only the curve that they had just turned kept them hidden from the
occupants of the canoes.
It was a terribly long hundred yards, and it seemed to all of the five
that they scarcely moved, although they were swimming fast.
"I've been chased by the Injuns through the woods an' over the hills an'
across the prairies," groaned Shif'less Sol, "an' now they've took to
chasin' me through the water. They'd run me through the sky if they
could."
"Look out, Sol," said Henry. "The Indians are so near now that I think I
can hear them talking."
The sound of low voices came, in fact, from a point beyond the curve,
and now they could hear not only the beat of the paddles, but the
trickle of the water when one was lifted occasionally from the stream.
In another minute the canoes would turn the curve, and their occupants
could not keep from seeing the fugitives.
Henry swam desperately, not for himself alone, but to lead the way for
his comrades. At last he saw the shelving bank, twenty yards away, then
ten, then five. His feet touched bottom, he ran forward and sprang
ashore, the water running from him as if from some young river god. But
rifle and ammunition had been kept above the flood, and were dry.
Just as he reached the bank a shout of triumph, having in it an
indescribably ferocious note, filled all the forest and was returned in
dying echoes. The Indians in their canoes had turned the curve and had
instantly seen the fugitives, four of whom were still in the creek.
Exultant over this sudden find and what they regarded as a sure capture,
they plied their paddles with such a spasm of energy that the canoes
fairly leaped over the water.
Henry, on the bank, knew that only instant and deadly action could save
his comrades. He threw up his rifle, took a single glance along the
polished barrel, which glittered in the moonlight, and fired. An Indian
in the foremost canoe, uttering a cry which was all the more terrible
because it was checked half way, dropped his paddle into the water, fell
over the side of the canoe, hung there a moment, and then sank into the
creek.
The boat itself stopped, and the one just behind it, unable to check its
impetus, ran into it, and both capsized. Despite Indian stoicism, cries
arose, and six or seven warriors were struggling in the water.
Meanwhile, Shif'less Sol and Ross also gained the land and fired.
Another warrior was slain, and another wounded.
All the canoes, menaced by such a deadly aim, stopped, and several of
the occupants fired at the five on the bank. But firing from such an
unsteady platform, their bullets went wild, and only cut the leaves of
the forest. Henry had now reloaded, but he did not pull the trigger a
second time. He had noticed a movement in the woods on the opposite bank
of the creek, the one that they had just left. Bushes were waving, and
in a moment their original pursuers came into view. Henry sent his
bullet toward them, and Shif'less Sol did the same. Then the five turned
to flee.
A great medley of shouts and yells arose behind them, yells of anger,
shouts of encouragement as the two Indian parties, the one from the
canoes and the other from the woods, joined, and Henry heard splash
after splash, as pursuing warriors sprang into the water. He knew now
that, in this instance, at least, the race would be to the swift, and
the battle to the strong.
They did not run in Indian file, but kept well abreast, although Henry,
at the right end of the line, made the course. No one spoke. The only
sounds were the light, swift tread of moccasins and of rapid breathing.
Their pursuers, too, had ceased to shout. Not a single war cry was
uttered, but every one of the five knew that the warriors would hang on
hour after hour, throughout the night, and then throughout all the next
day, if need be.
For an hour they sped through the woods, and once or twice in the more
open places, as Henry looked back, he saw dim brown figures, but they
were never near enough for a shot. Then he would increase his pace, and
his four comrades would do the same.
Fortune, which had favored them so many times, did not do so now. It
persisted in remaining an uncommonly brilliant night. It seemed to
Henry's troubled mind that it was like the full blaze of noonday. The
moon that rode so high was phenomenal, a prodigy in size, and burnished
to an exasperating degree. Every star was out and twinkling as if this
were its last chance.
They reached the crest of a little hill, and now they saw the dusky
figures behind them more plainly. The Indians fired several shots, and
Henry and Tom Ross replied, reloading as they ran.
"Faster! A little faster!" cried Henry, and their breath grew shorter
and harder as they dashed on. The muscles of their legs ached. Little
pains smote them now and then in the chest, but they could not stop. It
was just such a border fight and pursuit as the woods, both north and
south of the Ohio, often witnessed, and of most of which there was never
any historian to tell.
Their speed was now decreasing, but they knew that the speed of the
Indians must be decreasing, too. All were trained runners alike,
pursuers and pursued, but they could not go on at such a high pace
forever.
Fortunately the far side of the hill and much of the ground beyond was
covered thickly with hazel-nut bushes. Into these they dashed, and now
they were hidden again from view. The closeness of the bushes caused
them to drop once more into Indian file, and now Henry, with those keen
backward glances of his, examined his comrades with an eye that would
not be deceived.
Paul showed signs of great weariness. He swayed a little from side to
side as he ran, and the red of exertion in his face gave place to the
white of exhaustion. Henry reckoned that he could not last much longer
and he prayed for darkness and deep thickets without end.
He looked up again. Surely the dazzling splendor of that exasperating
moon had been dimmed a little! And among the myriads of stars some were
twinkling with less fervor, if he could believe what he saw. Would bad
fortune turn to good? He looked again in five minutes, and now he was
sure. A cloud, light and fleecy, but a cloud, nevertheless, was drawing
itself closely across the face of the moon. Many of the stars, actually
grown bashful, were not twinkling now at all, and others had become
quite pale and dim. The thickets, too, were holding out, and their
pursuers were not now in sight. They continued thus for a half hour
more, and the blessed clouds, not clouds of rain, but clouds of mists
and vapors, were increasing. The moon had become but a dim circle and
the last reluctant star was going. The forest was full of shadows. Henry
turned once more to Paul, whose breath he could hear coming in gasps.
"Turn north, Paul," he said. "They will follow us and they will miss you
in the darkness and these thickets. Hide in some good place and we'll
come back for you."
He held out his hand, Paul gave it one clasp, and turned away at a sharp
angle. He ran northward while the pursuit rushed past him, and then he
fell down in a thicket, where he lay panting.
The four, who had been a few minutes before the five, kept on, saying
nothing, but all thinking of Paul. They had not deserted him. It was in
the compact that even one should continue as long as he could. They
would return for him. But would any one live to come back?
The way grew rougher. Once, as they crossed a hill, they were outlined
for a moment on its crest, and a half dozen shots were fired by the
pursuers. Long Jim checked an exclamation, but Shif'less Sol heard the
slight sound.
"What is it, Jim?" he asked.
"Nuthin'," replied Long Jim, "'cept I stumbled a little. Them must be
Wyandots an' Shawnees follerin' us, Sol, from the way they hang on."
"It don't make much difference what they are so long ez they don't
quit."
The four went on now with measured tread under the dusky heavens, over
hillocks, down little valleys, and across brooks, which they leaped with
flying feet. It seemed that they would never tire, but the trained
warriors behind them were no less enduring. Once, twice, thrice they
caught sight of them, and when a longer period of invisibility passed
they knew, nevertheless, that they were still there. Now Long Jim
suddenly wavered, but gathered himself together in an instant and
continued his long leaps. Henry glanced at him and saw a patch of red on
the sleeve of his buckskin hunting shirt.
"You've been hit, Jim," he said.
"It's nuthin'," said Long Jim doggedly, but he staggered again as he
spoke.
"Turn to the north, Jim," said Henry sharply. "We'll come for you, too!"
Long Jim lifted a face of agony to the heavens. It was not agony of the
body, but agony of the spirit, because he could not go on with the
others.
"Go, Jim, while they can't see you," repeated Henry.
Long Jim waved his hand in a gesture of farewell, and, turning abruptly,
disappeared in the bushes as quickly as if great waters had closed over
him.
The three, who had been a minute before the four, did not look back.
There were still life and strength in them, and the power to run. The
Ohio could not be far away now, and they ought to strike it before
morning.
"I'd like to stop an' fight," breathed Shif'less Sol. "I don't
partickerly mind bein' chased sometimes, but I do mind bein' chased all
the way back to New Or-lee-yuns."
Henry, despite their desperate situation, could not withhold a smile,
which, however, was hidden from the shiftless one by the darkness.
"No choice seems to be left to us," he said. "It's run, Sol, run and
keep on running."
A groan of weariness from the shiftless one was his only reply. But he
kept by the side of Henry. Tom Ross was on the other side, and the three
flitted through the bushes with a long swinging stride that still
covered ground at a remarkable rate. Once they came to low, marshy soil,
a swamp almost, where back water from the Ohio or the creek evidently
stood in flood time, and they were forced to curve about, thus giving
their pursuers a chance to come diagonally and to make a great gain upon
them.
As they turned due south, skirting the side of the marsh, Tom Ross was
in the woods furthest away from the soft ground. A rifle shot from some
point deeper in the forest was fired at him, but the bullet only
whistled by his ear and passed on to be lost in the marsh. Henry saw a
dusky figure spring from the darkness and hurl itself upon Tom. He and
the shiftless one instantly whirled about to help their comrade, but Tom
and the warrior were now rolling over and over in the struggle of life
and death.
Neither combatant in such a close grip could use his rifle, but each had
drawn a knife, and the blades glittered as the men sought for a blow.
Henry and the shiftless one looked for an opening, but they could not
strike without as much danger to their comrade as to themselves, and
they stood by, lost for the moment in doubt, knowing that all the time
the pursuing band was coming nearer.
It was a furious struggle of bodily strength and passion, exerted to the
utmost, and while the time seemed very long to those who would help, but
could not find the chance, it was in reality not more than a minute.
Then both knives flashed. One figure suddenly relaxed and lay still, but
the other sprang to its feet.
It was Tom Ross who arose, and a cry of relief, low, but very deep,
broke from each of the spectators. But Tom had not gone unscathed. The
blade of the warrior had ripped open all the clothing on his left
shoulder and had also cut deep into the flesh. Already the black blood
was dripping upon the leaves.
"Bound to weaken me, an' I must stop somewhar to tie it up," said Tom
tersely. "You two go on."
"We'll come back for you, too, Tom," said Henry, deeply moved, knowing
how much it cost Silent Tom Ross to fall by the way.
"I turn to the east," said Tom. "I'll be restin' somewhar in the woods."
He slid away through the bushes and in an instant was gone. Henry, in
order to keep the pursuit in the main channel and let the departure of
Tom Ross pass unnoticed, sent back a fierce and challenging cry, the
first that the fugitives had given forth that night. It was answered
instantly from a point very near, the triumphant shout issuing from the
throats of men who believed their victory sure and at hand.
"We must reach the Ohio, Sol," said Henry, "you and I, or you or I."
"Both or one," said Shif'less Sol. "Come on."
His face was upturned a little and, although there was no moonlight now,
Henry saw it clearly. There was nothing of listlessness or despair in
the face of the shiftless one. The look of exaltation that sometimes
came upon him shone from his eyes. Dauntless and true, he would remain
to the last.
"Thar's a gleam among the trees," he said ten minutes later, "an' it
looks like water."
"It must be the Ohio! It surely is the Ohio!" said Henry. "We must swim
for it, Sol."
The shiftless one only nodded in reply, but both as they ran tied their
ammunition again around their necks, seeing at the same time that their
powder horns were stopped up tightly. The trees thinned fast, open muddy
ground appeared, and before them stretched a broad yellow current, the
Ohio. They called up the last reserve of their strength and ran as
swiftly as they could over the moist, sinking earth. But they were now
visible to their pursuers, who had not yet emerged from the forest, and
more bullets were fired.
"Are you hit, Sol?" asked Henry, anxiously of his comrade.
"No," replied the shiftless one. "Too dark fur 'em to take good aim."
The river seemed to widen as they approached it. It might be narrow
enough somewhere near here for cannon to command it, but it was a giant
stream, nevertheless, and a swimming head upon its surface would be
exposed for a long way to rifle shots. Shif'less Sol wheeled and fired
at the group that was now emerging from the woods, causing it to
hesitate and then stop for a few minutes, although several shots were
fired in return. The shiftless one felt a sharp, stinging pain in his
side as a bullet glanced off his ribs, but he did not wince.
"Jump, Henry," he cried, "jump ez fur out into the river ez you kin!"
The bank at the very edge of the water was about a dozen feet high, and
Henry leaped as far as he could. He heard a splash behind him as Sol,
too, sprang into the water of the Ohio, but the shiftless one remained
in the shadow of the bank.
"What is it, Sol?" cried Henry in alarm.
"I've been touched a leetle by a mite o' lead. It don't amount to much,
but to-night I don't believe I kin swim the Ohio. I'll drift down river
under the bank an' they'll never see me."
Sol was already floating away with the stream in the deepest shadow, and
Henry, swimming as before with only one arm, struck out strongly for the
Kentucky shore.