“Whew! That was a close call! Jerry, I thought I’d yell if he came an inch closer!” Jake drew his sleeve across his brow. “Guess we can start again now, Mr. Burk. Can we help you any with packing Sherlock?”
Burk was already on his feet again, lifting the inert body to his shoulders.
“I can manage, thanks,” he whispered. “But as soon as we get out of the danger zone, I’m going to untie the poor chap. This must be hurting him. He can’t do any damage now, if we untie him. I’m sure sorry I had to lash him up this way.”
He fell in behind the two boys, now striking through the patch of cleared woodland that led to the road. Their plan was to follow the road for about half a mile, circle the farm where it ended, and from there head through the mountains southward, along the Lenape range toward Canoe Mountain. The night was yet young, and they hoped to put some miles between the camp and themselves before morning would force them to stop, rest, and hide from any possible discovery. A sallow tinge on the eastern horizon told them that the moon would shortly be rising, to light them on their fleeting way. Behind them trudged the man Burk, his burden heavy but his heart lighter than it had been for many a day, and the taste of freedom on his lips.
As they topped a rising knoll above the road, Jake Utway looked back. He could still see a few dancing lights, like will-o’-the-wisps over the camp.
“So long, Lenape!” he said softly, and headed up the road, on the first leg of their dash for Canoe Mountain. Something told him that he would pass through many hazardous passages before he again saw the familiar scenes of the camp by the lake. Their daring venture had taken them outside the pale of law, now; every man’s hand would be against them. There would be no ease for them until somehow, somewhere, they could prove that the courts of the land had pronounced guilty an innocent man.
CHAPTER XV
FOUR IN THE FOREST
In the far corner of Farmer Podgett’s meadow the little party stopped. They stood knee-high in tall grass by the fence, their legs spattered with dew. Burk leaned his helpless load against the fence.
“Listen, Sherlock,” said Jerry into his tent-mate’s ear; “if we untie you, will you promise not to yell or try to get away? It won’t do you any good now—we’re too far from camp for them to hear you. We don’t want to hurt you unless you’re stubborn.”
The captive nodded his head vigorously. He would promise anything in the world to get free of those cutting ropes that bound him, and the gag that almost stopped his breathing. Without more ado, Burk untied the handkerchief that held the gag, and worked loose the knotted rope that pinioned the boy’s arms.