xt7pk06wx98q https://exploreuk.uky.edu/dips/xt7pk06wx98q/data/mets.xml Altsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander), 1862-1919. 19361908  books b92-172-30119828 English D. Appleton-Century, : New York ; London : Contact the Special Collections Research Center for information regarding rights and use of this collection. Forest runners  : a story of the great war trail in early Kentucky / by Joseph A. Altsheler. text Forest runners  : a story of the great war trail in early Kentucky / by Joseph A. Altsheler. 1936 2002 true xt7pk06wx98q section xt7pk06wx98q 

 












BOOKS BY JOSEPH A. ALTSHELER



   THE FRENCH AND
The Hunters of the Hills
The Rulers of the Lakes
The Lords of the Wild



INDIAN    WAR SERIES
The Shadow of the North
The Masters of the Peaks
The Sun of Quebec



        THE YOUNG TRAILERS SERIES
The Young Trailers     The Free Rangers
The Forest Runners     The Riflemen of the Ohio
The Keepers of the Trail    The Scouts of the Valley
The Eyes of the Woods       The Border Watch
             THE TEXAN SERIES
                The Texan Star
The Texan Scouts       The Texan Triumph



           THE CIVIL
The Guns of Bull Run
The Guns of Shiloh
The Scouts of Stonewall
The Sword of Antietam



WAR SERIES
The Star of Gettysburg
The Rock of Chickamauga
The Shades of the Wilderness
The Tree of Appomattox



          THE GREAT WEST SERIES
The Lost Hunters       'The Great Sioux Trail
          THE WORLD WAR SERIES
              The Guns of Europe
The Forest of Swords      The Hosts of the Air



            BOOKS NOT IN SERIES
Apache Gold            A Soldier of Manhattan
The Quest of the Four      The Sun of Saratoga
The Last of the Chiefs     A Herald of the West
In Circling Camps      The Wilderness Road
The Last Rebel         My Captive
                 The Candidate



D. APPLETON AND COMPANY



New York



London



I

 This page in the original text is blank.


 























































"A xuassive black fornl shot down into the center of the room."
                                                      [Page 277J

 



The



FOREST RUNNERS



A SIORY OF THF GREAT WAR
TRAIL IN EAR Y KENTUCKY



BY



JOSEPH



A. ALTSHUELER



AUTHOR OF "THE YOUNG TRAILERS"



D. APPLETON-CENTURY COMPANY
          INCORPORATED



NEW YORK



LONDON



1936

 





























            COPYRIGHT, 1908, BY
     i). APPLETON AND COMPANY



All rights reserved. This book, or parts
thereof, must not be reproduced in any
form without permission of the publishers.



















COPYRIGHT, 1935, BY EQUITABLE TRUST CO.

Printed in the United States of America

 





















This story, while independent in itself, con.
tinues the fortunes of the two boys who were the
central characters of "The Young Trailers."

 This page in the original text is blank.


 












CONTENTS



CIAPThR
    I.-PAUL

    II.-IN THE RIVER
  11.-THE LONE CABIN
  IV.--rT[IE SIEGE
  V.-THE FLIGHT
  VI.-THE BATTLE ON THE HILL
  VII.--WHA r HAPPENED IN THE DARK
  VIII.-AT THE RIVER BANK

  1X.--A CHANGE OF PLACES
  X.-THE ISLAND IN THE LAKE
  XI.-A SUDDEN MEETING
  XII.-THE BELT BEARERS
  XIII.-BRAXTON WYATT'S ORDEAL
  XIV.--IN WINTER QUARTERS
  XV.-WORK AND PLAY .

  XVI.-NOEI.
XVJIL-FOOTPRINTS IN THE SNOW

XVIII.-WHAT THE WARRIOR SAW

XIX.-THE WARNING
  XX.--THF TERRIBLE FORD .
  XXI.-THE FLIGHT OF LONG JIM
XXII.-THE LAST STAND     .



         FAGS


.       17
. . . 36

         59
        . 72
         91
        . 108
        125

        1. 42
         157
         176
        . 192

        217

        239
        254
        273
        . 283
        295
        . 310

        328
        . 340

    .. 355

 This page in the original text is blank.


 







     THE FOREST RUNNERS



                 CHAPTER I

                      PAUL

P    AUL stopped in a little open space, and
       looked around all the circle of the forest.
       Everywhere it was the same-just the curv-
ing wall of red and brown, and beyond, the blue
sky, flecked with tiny clouds of white. The wilder-
ness was full of beauty, charged with the glory of
peace and silence, and there was naught to indicate
that man had ever come.   The leaves rippled a
little in the gentle west wind, and the crisping grass
bowed before it; but Paul saw no living being, save
himself, in the vast, empty world.
   The boy was troubled and, despite his life in the
woods, he had full right to be. This was the great
haunted forest of Kain-tuck-ee, where the red man
made his most desperate stand, and none ever knew
when or whence danger would come.    Moreover,
he was lost, and the forest told him nothing; he was
not like his friend, Henry Ware, born to the for-
                        I

 


THE FOREST RUNNERS



est, the heir to all the primeval instincts, alive to
every sight and sound, and able to read the slightest
warning the wilderness might give.  Paul Cotter
was a student, a lover of books, and a coming states-
man.   Fate, it seemed, had chosen that he and
Henry \Ware should go hand in hand, but for dif-
ferent tasks.
   Paul gazed once more around the circle of the
glowing forest, and the shadow in his eyes deep-
ened. Henry and the horses, loaded with powder
for the needy settlement, must be somewhere near,
but whether to right or left he could not tell. He
had gone to look for water, and when he undertook
to return he merely went deeper and deeper into the
forest. Now the boughs, as they nodded before the
gentle breeze, seemed to nod to him in derision.
He felt shame as well as alarm. Henry would not
laugh at him, but the born scholar would be worth,
for the time, at least, far less than the born trailer.
   Yet no observer, had there been any, would have
condemned Paul as he condemned himself.      He
stood there, a tall, slender boy, with a broad, high
brow, white like a girl's above the line of his cap,
blue eyes, dark and full, with the width between
that indicates the mind behind, and the firm, pointed
chin that belongs so often to people of intellect.
   Paul and Henry were on their way from Ware-
                        2

 


PAUL



ville, their home, with horses bearing powder for
Marlowe, the nearest settlement, nearly a hundred
miles away. The secret of making powder from the
nitre dust on the floors of the great caves of Ken-
tucky had bcen discovered by the people of Ware-
'ile, and now they wished to share their unfailing
supply with others, in order that the infant colony
might be able to withstand Indian attacks. Henry
Ware, once a captive in a far Northwestern tribe,
and noted for his great strength and skill, had been
chosen, with Paul Cotter, his comrade, to carry it.
Both rejoiced in the great task, which to them
meant the saving of Kentucky.
   Paul's eyes were apt at times to have a dreamy
look, as if he were thinking of things far away,
whether of time or place; but now they were alive
to the present, and to the forest about him.  LIe
listened intently. At last he lay down and put his
ear to the earth, as he had seen Henry do; but he
heard nothing save a soft, sighing sound, which he
knew to be only the note of the wilderness.  He
might have fired his rifle. The sharp, lashing re-
port would go far, carried farther by its own echoes;
but it was more likely to bring foe than friend, and
he refrained.
   But he must try, if not one thing, then another.
I-le looked up at the heavens and studied the great,
                        3

 



THE FOREST RUNNERS



red globe of the sun, now going slowly down the
western arch in circles of crimson and orange light,
and then he looked back at the earth. If he had
not judged the position of the sun wrong, their little
camp lay to the right, and he would choose that
course.  He turned at once and walked swiftly
among the trees.
    Paul stopped now and then to listen. He would
have uttered the long forest shout, as a signal to
his comrade, but even that was forbidden. Henry
had seen signs in the forest that indicated more than
once to his infallible eye the presence of roving
warriors from the north, and no risk must be taken.
But, as usual, it was only the note of the wilderness
that came to his ears.  He stopped also once or
twice, not to listen, but to look at the splendid
country, and to think what a great land it would
surely be.
   He walked steadily on for miles, but the region
about him remained unfamiliar. No smoke from
the little camp-fire rose among the trees, and no
welcome sight of Henry or the horses came to his
eyes. For all he knew, he might be going farther
from the camp at every step. Putting aside caution,
he made a trumpet of his two hands, and uttered
the long, quavering cry that serves as a signal in
the forest. It came back in a somber echo from
                        4

 


PAUL



the darkening wilderness, and Paul saw, with a little
shiver, that the sun was now going down behind
the trees. The breeze rose, and the leaves rustled
together with a soft hiss, like a warning.  Chill
came into the air. The sensitive mind of the boy,
so much alive to abstract impressions, felt the omens
of coming danger, and he stopped again, not know-
ing what to do. He called himself afraid, but he
was not. It was the greater tribute to his courage
that he remained resolute where another might well
have been in despair.
    The sun went down behind the black forest like
a cannon shot into the sea, and darkness swept over
the wilderness. Paul uttered the long cry again and
again, but, as before, no answer came back; once
he fired his rifle, and the sharp note seemed to run
for miles, but still no answer.
   Then he decided to take counsel of prudence,
and sleep where he was. If he walked on, he might
go farther and farther away from the camp, but
if he stopped now, while he might not find Henry,
Henry would certainly find him. Any wilderness
trail was an open road to his comrade.
   He hunted a soft place under one of the trees,
and, despising the dew, stretched himself between
two giant roots, his rifle by his side. Hle was tired
and hungry, and he lay for a while staring at the
                        S

 



THE FOREST RUNNERS



blank undergrowth, but by and by all his troubles
and doubts floated away. The note of the wind
was soothing, and the huge roots sheltered him.
His eyelids drooped, a singular feeling of peace and
ease crept over him, and he was asleep.
   It was yet the intense darkness of early night,
and the outline of his figure was lost between the
giant roots, but after a while a silver moon brought
a gray tint to the skies, and the black bank over the
forest began to thin and lighten. Then two figures,
hideous in paint, crept from the undergrowth, and
stared at the sleeping boy with pitiless eyes.
   Paul slept on, and mercifully knew nothing of
his danger; yet it would have been hard to find in
the world two pairs of eyes that contained more
savagery than those now gazing upon him. Their
owners crept nearer, looking with fierce joy through
the darkness at the sleeping boy who was so cer-
tainly their prey. Their code contained nothing that
taught them to spare a foe, and this youth, in the
van of the white invasion, was the worst of foes.
   The boy still slept, and his slumber was deep,
sweet, and dreamless. No warning came to him
while the savage eyes, bright with cruel fire, crept
closer and closer, and the merciful darkness, coming
again, tried to close down and hide the approaching
tragedy of the forest.
                        6

 


PAUL



    Paul returned with a jerk from his peaceful
heaven. Hands and feet were seized suddenly and
pinned to the earth so tightly that he could not
move, and he gazed up at two hideous, painted
faces, very near to his own, and full of menace.
The boy's heart turned for a moment to water. He
saw at once, through his vivid and powerful imag-
ination, all the terrors of his position, and in the
same instant he leaped forward also to the future,
and to the agony it had in store for him. But in
a moment his courage came back, the strong will
once more took command of the body and the spirit,
and he looked up with stoical eyes at his captors.
He knew that resistance now would be in vain, and,
relaxing his muscles, he saved his strength.
    The warriors laughed a little, a soundless laugh
that was full of menace, and bound him securely
with strips of buckskin cut from his own garments.
Then they stood up, and Paul, too, rose to a sitting
position, gazing intently at his captors. They were
powerful men, apparently warriors of middle age,
and Paul knew enough of costume and paint to tell
that they were of the Shawnee nation, bitterly hostile
to him and his kind.
   Hits terrors came back upon him in full sweep.
lie loved life, and, scholar though he was, he loved
his life in the young wilderness of Kentucky, where
                         7

 


THE FOREST RUNNERS



he was at the beginnings of things. Every detail
of what they would do to him, every incident of
the torture was already photographed upon his sen-
sitive mind, but again the brave lad called up all
his courage, and again he triumphed, keeping his
body still and his face without expression.  He
merely looked up at them, as if placidly waiting
their will.
   The two warriors talked together a little, and
then, seeming to change their minds, they unbound
the boy's feet. One touched him on the shoulder,
and, pointing to the north, started in that direction.
Paul understood, and, rising to his feet, followed.
The second warrior came close behind, and Paul
was as securely a prisoner as if he were in the midst
of a band of a hundred. Once or twice he looked
around at the silent woods and thought of running,
but it would have been the wildest folly. His hands
tied, he could have been quickly overtaken, or, if
not that, a bullet. He sternly put down the temp-
tation, and plodded steadily on between the warriors,
the broad, brown back of the one in front of him
always leading the way.
   It seemed to him that they sought the densest
part of the undergrowth, where the night shadows
lay thickest, and he was wise enough to know that
they did it to hide their trail from possible pursuit.
                        8

 


PAUL



Then he thought of Henry, his comrade, the prince
of trailers !  He might come!   I-le would come!
Paul's blood leaped at the thought, and his head
lifted with hope.
    Clouds swept up, the moon died, and in the
darkness Paul had little idea of direction. He only
knew that they were still traveling fast amid the
thick bushes, and that when he made too much noise
in passing one or other of the brown savages would
prod him with the muzzle of a gun as a hint to
be more careful. His face became bruised and his
feet weary, but at last they stopped in an opening
among the trees, by the side of a little brook that
trickled over shining pebbles.
   The warriors wasted little time. They rebound
Paul's feet in such tight fashion that he could
scarcely move, and then, lying down near him, went
to sleep so quickly that it seemed to Paul they ac-
complished the feat by some sort of a mechanical
arrangement. Tired as he was, he could not close
his own eyes yet, and he longed for his comrade.
Would he come
   Paul's sensitive nerves were again keenly alive
to every phase of his cruel situation. The warriors,
lying almost at his feet, were monsters, not men,
and this wilderness, which in its finer aspects he
loved, was bristling in the darkness with terrors
                        9

 


THE FOREST RUNNERS



known and unknown. Yet his clogged and weary
brain slept at last, and when he awoke again it was
day-a beautiful day of white and gold light, with
the autumnal tints of the forest all about him, and
the leaves rustling in a gentle wind.
   But his heart sank to the uttermost depths when
he looked at the warriors. By day they seemed more
brutal and pitiless than at night. From their long,
narrow eyes shone no ray of mercy, and the ghastly
paint on their high cheek bones deepened their look
of ferocity. It was not the appearance of the war-
riors alone, it was more the deed for which they
were preparing that appalled Paul.  They were
raking dead leaves and fallen brushwood of last year
around a small but stout sapling, and they went on
with their task in a methodical way.
   Paul knew well, too well. Hideous tales of such
doings had come now and then to his ears, but he
had never dreamed that he, Paul Cotter, in his own
person would be such a victim. Even now it seemed
incredible in the face of this beautiful young world
that stretched away from him, so quiet and so peace-
ful. He, who already in his boyhood was planning
great things for this splendid land, to die such a
death!
   The warriors did not cease until their task was
finished. It was but a brief one after all, for Paul
                       IO

 


PAUL



had made no mistake in his guess. There was not
time, perhaps, to take a prisoner beyond the Ohio,
and they could not forego a savage pleasure. They
dragged the boy to the sapling, stood him erect
against the slim trunk, and bound him fast with
green withes. Then they piled the dead leaves and
brushwood high about him above his knees, and,
this done, stood a little way off and looked at their
work.
    The warriors spoke together for the first time
since Paul had awakened, and their black eyes lighted
up with a hideous glow of anticipation. Paul saw
it, and an icy chill ran through all his veins. Had
not the green withes held him, he would have fallen
to the ground. Once more his active mind, fore-
seeing all that would come, had dissolved his strength
for the moment; but, as always, his will brought
his courage back, and he shut his eyes to put away
the hateful sight of the gloating savages.
   He had never asked in any way for mercy, he
had never uttered a word of protest, and he resolved
that he would not cry out if he could help it. They
should not rejoice too much at his sufferings; he
would die as they were taught to die, and he would
show to them that the mind of a white boy could
supply the place of a red man's physical fortitude.
But Henry might come! Would he come Oh,
                        II

 


THE FOREST RUNNERS



would he come Resigned to death, Paul yet hoped
for life.
    He opened his eyes, and the warriors were still
standing there, looking at him; but in a moment
one approached, and, bending down, began to strike
flint and steel amid the dry leaves at the boy's feet.
Again, despite himself, the shivering chill ran
through Paul's veins.  Would Henry come     If
he came at all, he must now come quickly, as only
a few minutes were left.
    The leaves were obstinate; sparks flew from the
flint and steel, but there was no blaze. Paul looked
down at the head of the warrior who worked pa-
tiently at his task. The 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 con-
centrated in a single moment.   Fear and hope
tripped over each other, and the wilderness grew
                       I2

 


PAUL



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 re-
port, 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! " ex-
claimed 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,
                        '3

 


THE FOREST RUNNERS



"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 brush-
wood, and then, handing Paul's rifle to him, looked
at those belonging to the savages.
   "Ve'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 re-
stored, 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
                       14

 

PAUL



horses loose, hoping that we'll get 'em some time
later; but just now you and I have to save our-
selves."
    Paul came back to earth.  Danger still threat-
ened! But he was free for the time, and he was
with his comrade!
    "You lead the way, Henry," he said. " I'll fol-
low, 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 shoi.
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 thatl!
   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 Wrare knew.
     Yes, they've heard," he said, " and they're tell-
ing it to each other. They are also telling it to us.
They're between us and Marlowe, and they are
                        Is

 


THE FOREST RUNNERS



between us and Wareville, so we must run to the
north, and run as fast as we can."
    He led the way with swift, light footsteps
through the forest, and Paul followed close behind,
each boy carrying on his shoulder two rifles and at
his waist a double stock of bullets and powder.
    Paul scarcely felt any fear now for the future.
The revulsion from the stake and torture was so
great that it did not seem to him that he could be
taken again. Moreover, they had seized him the
first time when he was asleep. They had taken an
unfair advantage.
   The sun rose higher, gilding the brown forest
with fine filmy gold, like a veil, and the boys ran
silently on among the trees and the undergrowth.
Behind them, and spread out like a fan, came many
warriors, fierce for their lives.  Amid such scenes
was the Great West won.


 








CHAPTER II



                  IN THE RIVER

P    AUL, while not the equal of Henry in the
       woods, was a strong and enduring youth.
       His muscles were like wire, and there were
few better runners west of the mountains.    Al[-
though the weight of the second rifle might tell
after a while, he did not yet feel it, and with springy
step he sped after Henry, leaving the choice of course
and all that pertained to it to his comrade. After
a while they heard a second cry-a wailing note-
and Henry raised his head a little.
   "They've come to the two who fell," he said.
   But after the single lament, the warriors were
silent, and Paul heard nothing more in the woods
but their own light footsteps and his own long
breathing. Little birds flitted through the boughs
of the trees, and now and then a hare hopped up
and ran from their path. The silence became ter-
rible, full of omens and presages, like the stillness
before coming thunder.
   "It means something," said Henry; " I think
                       '7

 


THE FOREST RUNNERS



we've stumbled into a regular nest of those Shaw-
nees, and they're likely to be all about us."
    As if confirming his words, the far, faint note
came from their right, and then, in reply, from their
left. Henry stopped so quickly that Paul almost
ran into him.
    " I was afraid it would be that way," he said.
"They're certainly all around us except in front,
and maybe there, too."
    Visions of the torture rose before Paul again.
    " What are we to do " he said.
    " Ve must hide."
    " Hide! Why, they could find us in the forest,
as I would find a man in an open field."
   " I don't mean hide here," said Henry; " the
river is just ahead, and I think that if we reach it
in time we can find a place. Come, Paul, we must
run as we never ran before."
   The two boys sped with long, swift bounds
through the forest as only those who run for their
lives can run. Now the voices of the pursuit became
frequent, and began to multiply. Henry, with his
instinctive skill in the forest, read their meaning.
The pursuers were sure of triumph. But Henry shut
his lips tightly, and resolved that he and Paul should
yet elude them.
   "The river is not more than a half mile ahead,"
                       I

 


               IN THE RIVER
he said. "Come, Paul, faster! A little faster, if
you can! "
    Paul obeyed, and the two, bending their heads
lower, sped on with astonishing speed. Trees and
bushes slid behind them. Before them appeared a
blue streak, that broadened swiftly and became a
river.
    "WVe must not let them see us," said Henry.
  Bend as low as you can, and be as quiet as you can! "
  Paul obeyed, and in a few more minutes they
were at the river's edge.
   " Fasten your bullets and powder around your
neck," said Henry, "and keep the rifle on your
shoulder."
   Paul diu so, following Henry's quick example,
and the two stepped into the water, which soon
reached to their waists. Henry had been along this
river before, and at this crisis in the lives of his
comrade and himself he remembered. Dense woods
lined both banks of the stream, which was narrow
here for miles, and a year or two before a hurricane
had cut down the trees as a reaper mows the wheat.
The surface of the water was covered with fallen
trunks and boughs, and for a half mile at least they
had become matted together like a great raft, out
of which grass and weeds already were growing.
But Paul did not know it, and suddenly he stopped.
                       '9

 


THE FOREST RUNNERS



   " Why, what has become of the river " he ex-
claimed, pointing ahead.
   The stream seemed to stop against a bank of
logs and foliage.
   Henry laughed softly.
   " It is the great natural raft," he said. " There
is where we are to hide."
   He hastened his steps, wading as rapidly as he
could, and Paul kept by 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 ammuni-
tion. 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.
                       20

 


IN THE RIVER



    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 cau-
tiously 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 cur-
rent, 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
                       21

 


THE FOREST RUNNERS



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 move-
ment 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.
                       22

 


IN THE RIVER



   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 whis-
pered 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 d6bris,
and one stood on a log so near to the two lads that
they could have reached out and touched his mocca-
sined 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. He would not move until
Henry gave the word.
   lIe saw what a wise precaution it was,