“Well, what of it?”
“Then two warriors is goin’ to be me an’ you, Henry.”
“Of course. I ought to have thought of it, too.”
“Thar must be sent’nels on the bank, but waitin’ ’bout ten minutes we’ll git into the canoe an’ paddle off. The sent’nels will know that two warriors are to go back in it, an’ they’ll think we’re them. This darkness which has come up, heavy an’ black, on purpose to help us, will keep ’em from seein’ that we ain’t warriors. When we git into the middle o’ the river, whar thar eyes can’t even make out the canoe, we’ll go down stream like a flash o’ lightnin’, pick up the boys and then be off ag’in like another flash o’ lightnin’.”
“A good plan, Sol, and we’ll try it. As you say, luck is always on the side of the bold, and I don’t see why we can’t succeed.”
But to wait the necessary fifteen minutes was one of the hardest tasks they ever undertook. It would not do to take the canoe at once, as suspicion would certainly be aroused. They must conform to Blackstaffe’s own plan. It seemed to them that they must actually hold themselves with their own hands to keep from creeping forward to the canoe, yet they did it, though the minutes doubled and redoubled in length, and then tripled; but, after a time that both judged sufficient, they slid forward, and Henry’s knife cut the willow withe. Then they lifted themselves gently into the canoe, took up two of the paddles and were away.
Henry’s back was to the southern bank, and despite all his experience and courage shivers ran through his body at the thought that a bullet from the forest might strike him any moment. Yet he did not wish to seem in a hurry, and restrained his eagerness to paddle with all his might.
“Softly, Sol, softly,” he said. “We must not be in too much haste.”
“Don’t I know it, Henry? Don’t I know that we must ’pear to be the two warriors whose business it is to take back the canoe? Ain’t I jest strainin’ an’ achin’ to make the biggest sweep with my paddle I ever swep’, an’ ain’t my mind pullin’ ag’inst my hands all the time, tryin’ to keep ’em at the proper gait? Are you shore you ain’t felt no bullet in your back yet, Henry?”
“No, Sol. What makes you ask such a question?”