The trapper felt the need of haste, and he now used the paddle with all the power and skill of which he was master. The current was quite rapid, the stream being narrow and deep, and the light canoe seemed to speed over the surface like a swallow.
There was a chilliness in the air, and gathering the thick blanket about him, Harry lay back, too tired to sleep, but so utterly used up, that he wished the Blackfeet would keep up their rowing for several hours yet, so that by the time they halted, he would be in a better condition to do something. He was sure that he was useless for the present.
Although the old hunter said little, he understood the condition of the lad, and he hoped very much the same as he did. He let him alone, wishing that he would fall asleep, for he very justly mistrusted his ability to cope with the physical requirements before him.
The sky was clear, and the moon was not likely to rise until later. The trapper continued his powerful sweeps of the paddle, his purpose being to make the distance between himself and the Blackfeet as small as was prudent, when he could slacken his gait, and prolong the pursuit all through the night if necessary.
Fully five miles were passed in this manner, the stream frequently making such short curves that he held up, fearful that he might betray himself to his foes. As yet he had seen and heard nothing of them, when as he rounded a rocky headland, he abruptly paused and listened.
“Do you hear any thing, younker?” he asked, holding the paddle suspended in hand.
There was no answer, even after he had repeated the question.
“Poor chap, he’s asleep!” concluded the trapper, “and I’m glad of it. I shan’t wake him till I have to. He’s full of pluck and nerve, but he ain’t used to this business; he’s got to get older afore he kin stand it as well as me. I don’t know much ’bout such things, but I think he loves that gal, and she feels sorter the same toward him. I don’t know what he’d think if I’d tell him why she left his camp the other night. He’s got to find it out some time, and I won’t distress him by tellin’ him until I can’t put it off any longer. ’Sh!”
As he listened, he heard faintly but distinctly the sound of paddles. His experienced ear enabled him to tell that two canoes were only a short distance ahead, so there could be no reasonable doubt but that he was close in the rear of the Blackfeet party.
“I wonder ef they’re going to keep it up all night?” was the next thought of Old Ruff; “ef they are, I kin paddle as well as them, but then it ain’t going to give me much chance to get a word with Little Rifle, and it will sorter bother the brains of Speckled Beauty to keep the hang of things. But he’s smart, and has done ’cuter things than that, in his time.”