“I choose the north bank.”
“And you, Jim?”
“North, uv course.”
“And you, Tom?”
“North.”
“And Sol and I have already spoken. We’ll make for the low point across there, sink the canoe and go into the forest. The Indians will be sure in time to pick up our trail and follow us, but we’ll escape ’em as we’ve escaped twice already.”
“Red Eagle and Yellow Panther will come for us now,” said Paul. “It’s their turn next.”
“Let ’em,” said Long Jim in sanguine tones. “They can’t beat us.”
They were now out of the rapids and were paddling swiftly toward the northern shore, with their eyes on a small cove, where the bushes grew thick to the water’s edge. When they reached it they pushed the canoe into the dense thicket and sank it.
“After all,” said Shif’less Sol, “we’re not partin’ wholly with our friend. We know whar he is, an’ he’ll wait here until some time or other when we want him ag’in.”