"They're comin'!" he hoarsely whispered to his companion. "The divils are after us!"
Grey looked back, and was able to see dark specks in the distance where the moon shone bright. Fleeting spectres they were, appearing and disappearing, yet drawing steadily nearer.
"What are we to do?" he replied. "We can't fight here, and they'll be upon us in a few minutes."
"Make fer the shore, quick," Dan commanded, and suiting the action to the word he gave the raft a vigorous shove which sent her reeling toward the bank.
With some difficulty they were able to make a landing, and while Dan held the raft Grey carried Donnie quickly ashore. There was now no time to lose, for the Indians were almost abreast of the place. Then a wild blood-curdling yell of derision fell upon their ears. The pursuers had expected to overtake the raft in midstream. They feared the deadly rifles of the pale faces, and followed silently and cautiously. But when they saw them make for land, and disappear among the trees they gave full vent to their savage delight. What could two men and a little child do against such overwhelming odds?
And as Grey and Dan sped forward, carrying Donnie by turns, they felt how almost hopeless was their position. But they determined to fight to the last, and looked anxiously as they ran for some place where they could make a firm stand. Ere long several large boulders were seen, and the sight brought a new hope into Dan's heart.
"We're somewhar near that cave," he panted, "an' if we once git in thar I'll riddle some of them d—d redskins like a sieve."
Presently they reached the open trail, and to the left appeared the dim forms of the two giant shafts of stone.
"Run fer it!" breathed the trapper to Grey, who was now carrying the child. "I'll foller a little behind to cut off them varmints if they come too near. Give me yer gun."
With Donnie enfolded in his arms, and head bent, Grey ran as he had never run before. So much depended upon that last lap—the honour of the Force, the safety of a little child, the happiness of a home far away, and their own lives. And he could run as well as fight, this hound of the North. He was not running because he was afraid, but that he might fight the better later on. How interminably far away seemed those huge columns. Would he ever reach them? He felt his strength growing weaker, for his burden was heavy. Suddenly a report split the air, and a bullet whistled past his head. The effect was magical. Forgotten was his weariness. It nerved him to greater effort, and his feet fairly spurned the ground. How he maintained his footing on that rough and crooked trail he could not tell. But not once did he fall, and at last to his relief he beheld the cave but a few rods away. He glanced back, and saw Dan nimbly speeding after. He was near to shelter now, and as he hurried by the nearer column a bullet spat against the hard stone, telling plainly that the Indians were not far behind, although somewhat astray in their aim.