For a while he believed he would escape without being sighted by the Osages, but then this hope died out. As he turned an abrupt curve in the trail, he caught sight of a dark figure gliding toward him. There could be no mistaking it; the moonlight was still too clear for that. The figure was that of an Osage warrior.
A collision was inevitable. At nearly the same moment, the savage caught sight of the pale-face, and drawing his tomahawk, flung back his arm for a cast, uttering the shrill yell of discovery. Quick as were his motions, the Wood King anticipated them, and with a spiteful report the long rifle sent its leaden pellet crashing through the Indian's brain, turning the cry of triumph into a shriek of horrible agony. Then a corpse lay quivering upon the rocks.
For a moment Boone almost despaired. In answer to the yell of the now dead savage, cries were echoing from every point of the compass. The wood-ranger was surrounded. Since entering the rocky tract, the Osages had scattered, some entering each one of the numerous trails that branched off from the main one, so that, by Boone's backward movement in quest of Abel Dare, he had glided into their very midst. Death or capture seemed inevitable.
Still the Wood King was not one to tamely submit while a chance remained him. Knowing that the yell and rifle-shot would draw the savages directly to that spot, he darted forward past the dead body, on the faintest chance that this trail was now unoccupied by other than himself.
Scarcely had a hundred yards been traversed ere a shrill whoop rung out from the right, telling that his flight was discovered. Clenching his teeth, Boone darted ahead with all the speed he could bring into play over such a rough trail. Bounding over bowlders with the activity of one in his prime, scrambling up or climbing down an abrupt ascent or descent, the Wood King fled from his enemies, who were now fairly upon his track. A thrill of renewed hope pervaded his being as he became convinced that his enemies were all behind him; that the slain savage had been the only living obstacle in the way of his flight.
Having more than once explored this strange tract of ground, Boone improved every little advantage, losing no time in making useless turns, heading direct for a place of refuge not far distant, where he hoped to elude his persistent pursuers. Evidently the Osages divined his purpose, for they pressed on at reckless speed, more than one coming to grief upon the jagged rocks in their mad haste. Their yells rung out loud and piercing. Boone's brows contracted as he thought of the result should their cries arouse some of the wandering band of foes ahead, and enable them to cut off his flight. Then he smiled grimly at the wild, improbable idea.
The rock-bed was cleared, and the hunted scout darted forward with accelerated speed. A narrow, gravelly tract was passed; then came one of sand, thickly covered with coarse grass. Beyond this the grass grew more rankly, with straggling oak and thorn bushes. Through this Boone darted, heading straight as the crow flies, with the nearest savage two hundred yards behind, now running in stern silence, straining every muscle to the utmost in the endeavor to overtake the fugitive before he could reach the covert for which he was heading.
On through the stiff, stubborn bushes Boone dashed; then another belt of grass lay before him. The end was now near at hand, and he felt invigorated. Again the savages yelled, this time partaking more of chagrin than anticipated triumph. Boone smiled grimly, his head bent forward, his steps carefully calculated.
The nature of the ground changed again. It would give beneath his feet, springy, elastic. Occasionally a few drops of water would be dashed aside. It resembled the edge of a swamp; the mud, though growing soft, was not sticky. The grass began to grow in irregular patches, with black spaces between. Here and there the moonlight was reflected back from water. Still beyond grew a dense wall of something grayish brown. This was the hiding-place toward which Boone had been tending.
In fact it was a large shallow pond, covered with a dense growth of wild-oats, reeds and bushes. The water was nowhere deeper than a man's hight. Amidst this thick-laced growth a fugitive might lie hidden within arm's-length of an enemy, without being seen.