With fire ahead and on both sides, there was nothing to do but retreat, and, much as he hated to give the order, Boone told his men to fall back.
“We can circle the hill on our left,” he said. “I know a deer trail running to the river ahead.”
The whole party turned and began to retrace their steps. The smoke was thick about them, and the breeze began to send the burning embers flying in all directions.
“I wonder if we’ll be able to get out of this alive,” said Joe.
“We’ll be all right unless the redskins have set fire to the brush behind us,” answered one of the hunters.
None of the party lost time in turning back. The breeze was increasing, and soon the thick smoke swept downward, filling the narrow valley from end to end.
“Oh, but this is awful!” gasped Joe, and then began to cough.
“Don’t stop, men!” shouted Daniel Boone. “Don’t stop, or it may be the death of you!”
With so many men crowding the narrow trail, progress was not near as rapid as it might otherwise have been, and long before the back end of the valley was gained more than one settler was ready to drop from the effects of the smoke.
Joe went on half blindly, the tears running from his eyes. He knew that the fire was sweeping down from the other end of the valley, and that the breeze would soon carry it in their very midst unless they made a rapid escape.