The Forest Runners | Page 5

second warrior stood on one side,
watching, and when Paul glanced at him he saw the savage move ever
so little, but as if driven by a sudden impulse, and then raise his head in
the attitude of one who listened intently. Heat replaced the ice in Paul's
veins. Had something moved in the forest? Was it Henry? Would he
come?
The standing warrior uttered a low sound, and he who knelt with the
flint and steel raised his head. Something had moved in the forest! It
might be Henry. For Paul, the emotions of a life were concentrated in a
single moment. Fear and hope tripped over each other, and the
wilderness grew dim to his sight. A myriad of little black specks
danced before his eyes, and the blood was beating a quick march in his
ears.
The two savages were motionless, as if carved of brown marble, and
over all the wilderness hung silence. Then out of the silence came a
sharp report, and the warrior who stood erect, rifle in hand, fell to the
earth, stricken by instant death. Henry had come! His faithful comrade
had not failed him! Paul shouted aloud in his tremendous relief and joy,
forgetful of the second warrior.
The kneeling savage sprang to his feet, but he had made a fatal mistake.
To light the fire for the torture, he had left his rifle leaning against the
trunk of a tree twenty feet away, and before he could regain it a terrible
figure bounded from the bushes, the figure of a great youth, clad in
buckskin, his face transformed with anger and his eyes alight. Before
the savage could reach his weapon he went down, slain by a single
blow of a clubbed rifle, and the next moment Henry was cutting Paul
loose with a few swift slashes of his keen hunting knife.

"I knew you would come! I knew it!" exclaimed Paul joyously and
wildly, as he stood forth free. "Nobody in the world but you could have
done it, Henry!"
"I don't know about that, Paul," said Henry, "but I'd have had you back
sooner if it hadn't been for the dark. I followed you all night the best
way I could, but I couldn't come up to you until day, and they began
work then."
He glanced significantly at the leaves and brushwood, and then,
handing Paul's rifle to him, looked at those belonging to the savages.
"We'll take 'em," he said. "It's likely we'll need 'em, and their powder
and bullets will be more than welcome, too."
Paul was rubbing his wrists and ankles, where the blood flowed
painfully as the circulation was restored, but to him the whole affair
was ended. His life had been saved at the last moment, and the world
was more brilliant and beautiful than ever. His imagination went
quickly to the other extreme. There was no more danger.
But Henry Ware did not lose his eager, wary look. It did not take him
more than a minute to transfer the ammunition of the warriors to the
pouches and powder-horns of Paul and himself. Then he searched the
forest with keen, suspicious glances.
"Come, Paul," he said, "we must run. The woods are full of the savages.
I've found out that there's a great war party between us and Marlowe,
and I've hid the powder in a cave. I turned the horses loose, hoping that
we'll get 'em some time later; but just now you and I have to save
ourselves."
Paul came back to earth. Danger still threatened! But he was free for
the time, and he was with his comrade!
"You lead the way, Henry," he said. "I'll follow, and do whatever you
say."

Henry Ware made no reply, but bent his ear again, in the attitude of one
who listens. Paul watched his face attentively, seeking to read his
knowledge there.
"The big war band is not far away," said Henry, "and it's likely that
they've heard my shot. It would carry far on such a still, clear morning
as this. I didn't want them to hear it."
"But I'm glad you did shoot," said Paul. "It was a mighty welcome
sound to me."
"Yes," said Henry, with grim humor, "it was the right thing at the right
time. Hark to that!" A single note, very faint and very far, rose and was
quickly gone, like the dying echo of music. Only the trained ranger of
the wilderness would have noticed it at all, but Henry Ware knew.
"Yes, they've heard," he said, "and they're telling it to each other. They
are also telling it to us. They're between us and Marlowe, and they are
between us and Wareville, so we must run to the north, and run as fast
as