"As little noise as you can," he said. "There may be a lurking warrior about somewhere."
After the first hundred yards they waded slowly, in order to avoid more splashing, and, after another hundred, stopped to listen. They heard faint cries from the warriors, but they were very far away, at least a mile, they thought, and the hearts of every one of the five rose with the belief that the Indians had taken the wrong course. But they neglected no precaution, wading in the middle of the brook for a long distance, the water enclosed on either side with a thick and heavy growth of willows and bushes so dense, in truth, that one could not see into the stream without parting the foliage.
"Didn't I tell you we were lucky!" said Henry. "This branch poked itself right across our path at the right moment to help us break our trail."
"Jedgment, Henry! Jedgment!" said the shiftless one. "We knowed that it wuz best fur us to find a branch, an' so we jest run on till we found one."
"It 'pears to me," said Long Jim, "that we're takin' to water a heap. Always jumpin' into some branch or creek or river an' wadin', I feel myself turnin' to a fish, a great big long catfish sech as you find in the Ohio. Fins are comin' out on my ankles right now."
"An' your face is plum' covered with scales already," said Shif'less Sol. "You're shorely a wonder, Jim."
Long Jim involuntarily clapped his hand to his face, and then both laughed.
"At any rate," said Long Jim, "I'll be glad when we take to dry ground ag'in."
But Henry led them a full mile, until he parted the bushes, and stepped out on the west bank. The others followed and all five stood a moment or two on the bank, while the water dripped from their leggings.
"Them fins has done growed on me, shore," whispered Long Jim to Shif'less Sol. "Cur'us how water sticks to deerskin."