The Forest Runners | Page 7

his side. He comprehended Henry's plan, their last and desperate
chance. In a few moments more they were at the great raft, and in the
bank, amid a dense, almost impenetrable mass of foliage, they hid their
rifles and ammunition. Henry uttered a deep sigh as he did it.
"I hate like everything to leave them," he said, "but if we come to close
quarters with any of those fellows, we must trust to our knives and
hatchets."
Then he turned reluctantly away. It was not a deep river, nowhere
above their necks, and he pushed a way amid the trees and foliage that
were packed upon the surface, Paul, as usual, following closely. Now
and then he dived under a big log, and came up on the other side, his
head well hidden among upthrust boughs and among the weeds and
grass that had grown in the soil formed by the silt of the river. And Paul
always carefully imitated him.
When they were about thirty yards into the mass Paul felt Henry's hand
on his shoulder. "Look back, Paul," was whispered in his ear, "but be
sure not to move a single bough." Paul slowly and cautiously turned his
head, and saw a sight that made him quiver.
Running swiftly, savage warriors were coming into view on either bank
of the river--tall men, dark with paint, and, as he well knew, hot with
the desire to take life.
"I thank God that this place is here!" breathed Paul.
"Yes, it was just made for us," said Henry, and he laughed ever so little.
"Come, Paul, we must get farther into it. But be sure you don't shake
any boughs."

They waded on, only their heads above the current, and these always
hidden by the interlacing trunks and branches. A great shout, fierce
with triumph, rose behind them.
"They've found where our trail entered the water, and they think they've
got us," whispered Henry. "Now, be still, Paul; we'll hide here."
They pushed themselves into a mass of debris, where logs and boughs,
swept by the current, formed a little arch over the stream. There they
stood up to their chins in water, with their heads covered by the arch.
Through the slits between the trunks and boughs they could see their
pursuers.
It was a numerous band--thirty or forty men--and they divided now into
several parties. Some ran along the banks of the stream and others
sprang from log to log over the raft, searching everywhere, with keen,
black eyes trained to note every movement of the wilderness.
Paul felt Henry's hand again on his shoulder, but neither boy spoke.
Both felt as if they were in a little cage, with the fiercest of all wild
animals around it and reaching long paws through the bars at them.
Each sank a little deeper into the water, barely leaving room to breathe,
and watched their enemies still searching, searching everywhere. They
heard the patter of moccasins on the logs, and now and then they saw
brown, muscular legs passing by. Two warriors stopped within ten feet
of them and exchanged comment. Henry, who understood their
language, knew that they were puzzled and angry. But Paul, without
knowing a word that they said, understood, too. His imagination
supplied the place of knowledge. They were full of wrath because they
had lost the trail of the two whom they had regarded as certainly theirs,
and to seek them in the vast maze of logs and brush was like looking
for one dead leaf among the millions.
The two warriors stood still for a full minute, and then moved on out of
sight. Paul drew a deep breath of relief, like a sigh, and Henry's hand
was pressed once more upon his shoulder.
"Not a sound yet, not a sound, Paul!" he whispered ever so softly.

"They will hunt here a long time."
More warriors, treading on the logs, showed that his caution was not
misplaced. They poked now and then in the water, amid the great mass
of debris, and one stood on a log so near to the two lads that they could
have reached out and touched his moccasined feet. But their covert was
too close to be suspected, and soon the man passed on.
Presently all of them were out of sight; but Henry, a true son of caution
and the wilderness, would not yet let Paul stir.
"They will come back this way," he said. "We risk nothing by waiting,
and we may save much."
Paul made no protest, but he was growing cold. The chill from the
water of the river was creeping into his veins, and he longed for the dry
land and a chance to stir about. Yet he clenched his teeth and resolved
to endure.