He was almost ready to drop, when the wind shifted, and for a minute gave him and the others a draught of fresh air. This revived all of the hunters, and they pushed onward with renewed energy.
“If we ever git out o’ this air trap, them redskins shall pay dearly fer the trick,” announced one old frontiersman, and many of the party agreed with him.
The wind was shifting to the other end of the valley, and now came a cry from ahead that caused every heart in the party to jump with renewed fear.
“They have set fire to this end of the valley, too! We are hemmed in by the flames!”
The report was true. Some of the Indians had secreted themselves in the bushes, and they had not been discovered by the guards sent out by Boone. As soon as the whites had passed, they had set fire to some bushes in the vicinity, and then ran around to the front by means of a narrow trail which was well known to them leading over one of the hills.
“We’ll have to make a dash right through the fire, I am afraid,” said Daniel Boone.
“Unless we can find some spot where the bushes haven’t caught yet,” said another old hunter.
“Here is a small brook!” cried a third. “I’m going to souse myself in that.”
This last suggestion was considered good, and in a twinkling all of the party had leaped into the brook and wet themselves from head to feet.
It was well that they did this, for the burning embers were now blowing about more thickly than ever. Joe caught some of the fire on his neck and some on his left hand, and his eyebrows were singed.