Chapter 11: 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.