“We’d been traveling very quietly,” said Jack. “I suppose that accounts for it. But,” and he gazed around at the gleaming sparks of red light among the trees, “we must get out of this, and before daylight. If we don’t, we’ll be caught as sure as the sun rises.”
“No get away in morning,” said Running Elk. “Best go now. Too many warriors to fight.”
In the direction from which they came the camp-fires of the Indians were fewer; so the boys mounted once more and headed in that direction, aiming at a point between two of them which were farthest apart and therefore seemed to afford the best way out.
There followed what they would all remember as one of the most perilous half hours of their lives; but, at length, they were out of the region of the camps and were making good speed away in the darkness.
“Once or twice I thought sure that a sentinel would call to us,” said Frank.
“We were so close to them that they couldn’t help thinking we were members of their own party,” said Jack, “and as they couldn’t make us out in the dark we had a few chances in our favor.”
“Creek heap much sleep on watch,” charged Running Elk, with contempt. “No good!”
The three rode all night; and as morning dawned, they saw signs of the white man’s hand all about them.
“Hello!” cried Frank, “we’re closer to the settlements than I thought.”
“Unless I’m wrong by a good deal,” said Jack, “we’re not far from Fort Mims.”