CHAPTER XII
THE ONE WHO ARRIVED
Henry Ware, when his last comrade, hurt and spent, drifted away in the darkness, felt that he was alone in every sense of the word. But the feeling of failure was only momentary. He was unhurt, and the good God had not given him great strength for nothing. He still held the rifle in his left hand above his head and swam with the wide circular sweep of his right arm. The yellow waves of the Ohio surged about him and soon he heard the nasty little spit, spit of bullets upon the water near his head and shoulders. The warriors were firing at him as he swam, but the kindly dusk was still his friend, protecting him from their aim.
He would have dived, swimming under water as long as his lungs would hold air. But he did not dare to wet his precious rifle and ammunition, which he might need the very moment he reached the other shore—if he reached it.
He heard the warriors shooting, and then came the faint sound of splashes as a half dozen leaped into the water to pursue him. Henry changed the rifle alternately from hand to hand in order to rest himself, and continued in a slanting course across the river, drifting a little with the current. He did not greatly fear the swimmers behind him. One could not attack well in the water, and they were likely, moreover, to lose him in the darkness, which was now heavy, veiling either shore from him. Had it not been for the rifle it would have been an easy matter to evade pursuit. Swimming with one arm was a difficult thing to do, no matter how strong and skillful one might be. But the pursuing warriors, who would certainly carry weapons, suffered from the same disadvantage. He heard another faint report, seeming to come from some point miles away, and a bullet struck the water near him, dashing foam in his eyes. It was fired from the bank, but it was the last from that point. He was so far out in the river now that his head became invisible from the shore, and he was helped, also, by the wind, which caused one wave to chase another over the surface of the river.
Henry was now about the middle of the stream, here perhaps half a mile in width, and he paused, except for the drifting of the current, and rested upon arm and shoulder. He looked up. The sky was still darkening, and only a faint silvery mist showed where the moon was poised. Then he looked toward either shore. Both were merely darker walls in the general darkness. He did not see any of the heads of the swimming warriors on the surface of the river, and he believed that they had lost him in the obscurity.
Refreshed by his floating rest of a minute or two, he turned once more toward the Kentucky shore. It was an illusion, perhaps, but it seemed to him that he had been lying at the bottom of a watery trough, and that he was now ascending a sloping surface, broken by little, crumbling waves.
He swam slowly and as quietly as possible, taking care to make no splash that might be heard, and he was beginning to believe that he was safe, when he saw a dark blot on the yellow stream. Far down was another such blot, but fainter, and far up was its like.
They were Indian canoes, and the one before him contained but a single occupant. Henry surmised at once that they were sentinels sent there in advance of the main force, and that the trained eyes of the warriors in the canoes would pierce far in the darkness. It seemed that the way was shut before him, and that he would surely be taken. He felt for an instant or two a sensation of despair. If only the firm ground were beneath his feet he could fight and win! But the watching warrior before him was seated safely in a canoe and could pick him off at ease. Undoubtedly the sentinels had been warned by the shots that a fugitive was coming, and were ready.
But he was not yet beaten. He called once more upon that last reserve of strength and courage, and, as he floated upon his back, holding the rifle just over him, he formed his plan. He must now be quick and strong in the water, and he could not be either if one hand was always devoted to the task of keeping the rifle dry. He must make the sacrifice, and he tied it to his back with a deerskin strap used for that purpose. Then, submerged to his mouth, he swam slowly toward the waiting canoe.