That the savages were keeping a keen watch we knew instantly Simon Kenton stepped outside the dense thicket, for then came the report of a rifle, and a bullet whistled past my head so near that I could feel the "wind" of its flight.
It was a queer act, when the darkness was so intense that one could not distinguish an object twenty paces away, yet instinctively we three darted behind the nearest trees for shelter, and there stood straining our eyes in the hope of being able to discover a living target.
It was like looking into a deep well, to peer ahead, and all three of us must have understood at the same instant that it was little less than folly to remain there with any hope of sending a bullet home, for Paul had just turned to continue the flight when Simon Kenton whispered to me:
"We cannot benefit ourselves by remainin' here. The best plan is to continue on up river, makin' as many miles as possible before daylight."
Having said this he darted forward, forcing Paul to fall into line behind him, and I came close at the latter's heels.
Now was begun the oddest fight ever seen on the Ohio River.
We three were pressing forward as if it would advantage us much to gain a few extra miles before morning, and the savages followed cautiously, firing at random now and then, although they could not hope a single bullet would take effect.
Several times we halted in the hope that the reptiles, thinking only of overtaking us, might come up within shooting distance; but they were too wary to be caught by any trick of that kind.
Whenever we came to a full stop it was as if all nature ceased breathing, for we could not hear the lightest whisper amid the foliage, and when the flight had continued in such fashion for an hour or more, Simon Kenton said as we stood side by side listening intently for some token of the villains:
"We won't get a fair shot at them until daylight, an' then they'll have the same chance at us. I reckon we'd better make all the distance we can while it is dark, an' then lay by when the sun rises."