What happened during the next hour seemed to the boy, afterward, more like some horrible dream than a reality. The war-whoops of the Indians continued to ring out on the night air, punctuated by numerous shots and yells from the wounded, while the fire in the forest grew brighter and brighter, driving the sick, wounded, and the helpless before it. Rodney and the others tried to get Joseph Morris back on the litter, but before this could be done both horses bolted away in the darkness, one upsetting Mrs. Morris and bruising her shoulder severely. Then Henry and Dave locked hands chair-fashion and started to carry the sufferer between them, only to stumble over some tree roots and go sprawling headlong. In the meantime Mrs. Morris looked around her, to discover that little Nell was missing.
"Nell! Nell!" she screamed. "Come here! Nell!"
"Isn't she with you, mother?" came quickly from Rodney.
"No. But she was here a moment ago. Nell! Nell!"
No answer came back to this cry, and now both Mrs. Morris and Rodney ran hither and thither in search of the little girl. Little could be seen, for the smoke was so thick it fairly blinded them.
As quickly as possible Dave and Henry arose and picked up Mr. Morris. The fall had hurt the sufferer's wound and he had to groan in spite of his efforts to choke back the sounds.
"Never—mind m-m—me!" he gasped. "Sa—save th—the others!" And then he fainted dead away.
"Your mother is calling for Nell!" cried Dave. "Here, Henry, put him on my back. I'll carry him somehow, and then you can go back to her." And after an effort Dave mastered his load and staggered on, in the direction already taken by a number of others. He was now more careful where he placed his feet and thus kept from going down again, although the load made him pant and exert himself far beyond his youthful strength. On and on he went, over rocks and tearing through low brushwood. An arrow went by his shoulder but he paid no attention. He heard more shots, and once a blaze of fire seemed to flash up almost in front of him. But he was not struck, and ten minutes later he felt that he had in some marvelous manner left the battleground behind him. He plunged into a hollow filled with wet grass and went down up to his knees. Unable to carry his load further he allowed his uncle's body to slip down beside him, and there he rested, trying his best to get back his breath and wondering what would happen next.