With the wounded woman between them, it was no easy matter to pick their way through the black forest and more than once one or another stumbled over a tree root or into a hole. Looking back, they saw that the fire was now dying down. The whooping of the redmen also lessened and finally ceased altogether.
"I know you wish to get home," panted Mrs. Risley, presently. "But—but—I cannot go—go another step!" And with these words she pitched forward and would have gone in a heap had not their strong youthful arms supported her.
"She has fainted," said Henry, "and it is not to be wondered at. Come, here is something of a shelter in between the rocks and those trees. We may as well let her rest there, for we cannot carry her all the way home."
"But the delay—" began Dave.
"Surely you don't wish to leave her to her fate, Dave?"
"No! no! You know me better than that, Henry, but I was thinking of those left at home. They may be in trouble, too, and if so they will need us."
"I've been thinking of a plan. I'm stronger than you and perhaps I can get her along alone, after she recovers. Can you find the house from here?"
"I think I can. The creek is just beyond that next patch of timber, isn't it?"
"Yes, in that direction." Henry pointed with his hand. "If you find everything all right you might bring father back to help—if he isn't afraid the Indians will arrive in the meantime."
So it was arranged, and without loss of another moment Dave started on his solitary way through the somber woods, now as silent as the grave, for the wind had gone down and the last of the night birds had given their final calls.