He whirled for an instant, raised his rifle, fired, whirled back again and then ran on. The whole motion, the brief curve about, and then the half circle back, seemed one, and yet, as the two ran on, they heard a warrior utter a death shout, as he fell in the forest.
"I reckon they'll keep back a little when they learn how we kin shoot," said Shif'less Sol. "Yes, they're not so close, by at least thirty yards. Now, how foolish that is!"
The Indians fired a dozen shots, but all their bullets flew wild. Then a pattering upon leaves and bark, but neither of the flying two was touched.
"Foolish, so it was," said Henry, "but it was anger too. Now, hark to that, will you!"
The shots were succeeded by a war cry, again on their right, but much nearer than before. Henry took a longing to look at the creek, but if they attempted to ford it the warriors would almost certainly shoot them while swimming. He and his comrade must make a great spurt to escape being cut off by the second force.
"Now, Sol," he said, "you're a good runner. So am I, and we need to fly like deer. You know why."
"I reckon I do."
The speed of the two suddenly increased. They went forward now, as if they were shot from a bow. Fortunately there were no pitfalls. The ground was not strewn with vines and brush to entrap them, and seeing that the two fugitives would be well ahead before the junction of the two bands could be formed, the band behind them sent forth its war whoop. But to Henry with his sensitive ear attuned to every shade of feeling that night the cry was not so full of exultation and triumph as the one before.
"Afraid the trap will fail to shut down on us," he said to the shiftless one.
"I read it that way."