They were not a moment too soon, for as the darkness swallowed them up they heard the Indians in the brushwood, running forward and backward along the bank, and calling guardedly to each other. They did not imagine that the whites had the boats, and supposed they must be in hiding, most likely half in and half out of the water.
Not knowing what else to do the whites headed the two canoes up the stream for a short distance and then landed on the opposite shore, at a point where some walls of rock seemed to promise a little shelter from the driving rain.
As they went ashore Mrs. Parsons recovered her senses, for she had merely fainted from the excitement.
“What has happened to me?” she asked faintly.
“Don’t worry, you are now safe, Mistress Parsons,” answered Ezra Winship.
“Providence be praised for it!” responded the Quakeress piously. Then her gaze fell upon her son and she uttered a slight shriek. “Harry! Oh, tell me not that he is killed!”
“No, he isn’t dead,” answered Joe. And shortly after that Harry sat up, declaring that he was all right excepting that his stomach felt very sore.
“We knocked over three o’ the redskins,” said Pep Frost. “Then the rest dug fer the woods an’ we rushed in and freed Mrs. Parsons. But it was a lively fight, and I don’t know as we air out o’ it yet,” he added significantly.
CHAPTER VIII
DAYS OF PERIL
Although Pep Frost was as tired out as anybody in the party, yet the old pioneer did not rest until he had found a cave-like opening under some of the largest of the rocks in that vicinity.