Now and then the moon would break through the clouds, deluging the forest with a flood of silver light, and then it would hide its face again leaving the night blacker than it was before.
The scout knew well that a savage, even, could not follow a trail under these circumstances, and with every minute they remained unmolested his spirits rose and he felt more sanguine of their escape.
Nearly an hour had passed, and they had kept steadily on their way; when suddenly the scout who had glanced behind them, as the moon broke forth brilliantly, bade them pause in their tracks.
“What is it? Did you see any thing?” demanded Ned Tapley, in a low tone.
“Hist! the red-skins are close behind us!” he answered, in a low voice.
A thrill of alarm and fear struck to the heart of each at these words.
After all their hopes of escape, were they doomed to destruction?
“Are you sure it was savages you saw?” asked Sam Wilson, in a whisper, as he cast a glance backward over the way they had come.
“Yes. There is one if not more upon our track. I saw him dart behind a tree as plainly as I can see you now. Most like there are others along with him though I did not see them.”
“What are we to do?”