“From now on, lads,” said the backwoodsman, “we shall have less trouble. Look, the trail leads directly to a buffalo path; they think they’ve thrown us off, and they’ve grown careless.”
Softly, swiftly the trailers struck into the path; as Boone had said, the savages had grown careless; their trail was broad and deep and could have been followed by the least skilful.
The day was well advanced, and the hardy band had covered a full forty miles through the tangled wilderness. But they were trained to long journeys and did not tire.
“We’re gaining,” said Boone, after an hour or so of steady following on the heavy track. “They passed here no more than a half hour ago.”
The caution of the party increased; they knew the savage nature of the Indians. Let the latter get a whisper of pursuit and the lives of their captives would be snuffed out. The long shadows began to fall in the forest; the patches of sky to be seen through the tree tops grew gray. Suddenly Boone held up his hand.
“Here they are!” said he.
Through the dense growth he pointed to a party of Indians; a few of them were dressing freshly killed game; others were engaged in kindling a fire. Bound to trees near at hand were the three girls.
“Now,” said Boone, as he looked to his rifle, “make your shots count; and above all don’t allow any of them to get near the girls.”
At the word, the whites rushed forward. At the first crash among the underbrush the savages grasped their weapons; but the long rifles cracked before they could act. The conditions under which the “beads” were drawn made the shots of the trailers difficult; but in spite of this a number of the Indians were hit; and all fled away into the woods, leaving the greater part of their arms and all of their ammunition behind them.
There was the utmost rejoicing in Boonesborough the next day when the trailers returned bringing the three girls with them, frightened, but safe and sound.