"Nary a hit. An' you?"
"Untouched."
"Come down straight on your feet in the creek?"
"Straight as straight can be. And you?"
"Split the water like a fish. Wet to the middle, but happy. I reckon we kin slow down a little now, can't we? I'm a good runner, but I wuzn't made up to go forever."
"We'll stop a little while in these bushes until we can get the fresh breath that we need so badly. But you know, Sol, they'll cross the creek, hunt for our trail and follow us."
"Let 'em come. We ain't hemmed in now, an' with a thousand miles o' space to run in I reckon they won't git us."
They lay panting in the bushes a full ten minutes. Then their hearts sank to a normal beat, strength flowed back into their veins, and, rising they stole away, keeping a general course toward the west. They went at a rather easy gait for an hour or more, but when they rested fifteen minutes they heard at the end of that time sounds of pursuit. The warriors were showing their usual tenacity on the trail, and knowing that it was not wise to delay longer they fled again toward the west, though they took careful note of the country as they went, because they intended to come back there again.
Twice the Indian horde behind them gave tongue, sign that the pursuit would be followed to the bitter end, but Henry and the shiftless one now had little fear for themselves. Their chief apprehension was lest they be driven so far to the west they might not return in time to allay the doubts and fears of their comrades.
They soon passed from hills into marshy regions which to their skilled eyes betokened another creek, flowing like its parallel sister into the Ohio. All these creeks overflowed widely in the heavy spring rains, and they judged that the swampy territory had been left by the retreating waters.