CHAPTER XV
THE GREAT CULMINATION
It could almost be said of them, so sensitive were they to sound or even to a noiseless presence, that usually when sleeping they were yet awake, that, like the wild animals living in the same forest, warnings came to them on the wind itself, and that, though the senses were steeped in slumber, the sentinel mind was yet there. But this morning it was not so. They slept, not like forest runners, who breathe danger every hour, both day and night, but like city dwellers, secure against any foe.
It was Silent Tom who awoke first, to find the day advanced, the sun like a gigantic shield of red and gold in the western heavens, and the wind of spring blowing through the green foliage. He shook himself, somewhat like a big, honest dog, and not awakening the others, walked to the edge of their island in the swamp, the firm land not being more than thirty feet across.
But on this oasis the trees grew large and close and no one on the mainland beyond the swamp could have seen human beings there. The swamp was chiefly the result of a low region flooded by heavy spring rains, and in the summer would probably be as dry and firm as the oasis itself. But, for the present, it was what the pioneers called "drowned lands" and was an effective barrier against any ordinary march.
Silent Tom looked toward the north, and saw a coil of smoke against the brilliant blue of the sky. It was very far away, but he was quite sure that it came from the Indian camp, and its location indicated that they had not yet crossed the river. He felt intense satisfaction, but he did not even chuckle in his throat, after the border fashion. He had not been named Silent Tom for nothing. He was the oldest of the five, several years older than Long Jim, who was next in point of age, and he was often called Old Tom Ross, although in reality the "old" in that case was like the "old" that one college boy uses when he calls another "old fellow."
But if Silent Tom did not talk much he thought and felt a very great deal. The love of the wilderness was keen in him. Elsewhere he would have been like a lion in an iron-barred cage. And, like the rest of the five, he would have sacrificed his life to protect those little settlements of his own kind to the south. It has been said that usually when the five slept they were yet almost awake, but this morning when Silent Tom was awake he was also dreaming. He was dreaming of the great triumph that they had won on the preceding day: Five against a thousand! Rifles against cannon! A triumph not alone of valor but of intellect, of wiles and stratagems, of tactics and management!
He did not possess, in the same great degree, the gift of imagination which illuminated so nobly the minds and souls of Henry and Paul and the shiftless one, but he felt deeply, nevertheless. Matter-of-fact and practical, he recognized, that they had won an extraordinary victory, to attempt which would not even have entered his own mind, and knowing it, he not only gave all credit to those who had conceived it, but admired them yet the more. He was beginning to realize now that the impossible was nearly always the possible.