But Mary Newton, with her strength and courage, had also recovered her forethought.
“Maybe it will not be better to go on the back trail,” she said. “One of the Senecas told me to-day that six or seven miles farther on was a river flowing into the Susquehanna, and that they would cross this river on a boat now concealed among bushes on the bank. The crossing was at a sudden drop between high banks. Might not we go on, find the boat, and come back in it down the river and into the Susquehanna?”
“That sounds mighty close to wisdom to me,” said Shif'less Sol. “Besides, it's likely to have the advantage o' throwin' the Iroquois off our track. They'll think, o' course, that we've gone straight back, an' we'll pass 'em ez we're going forward.”
“It's certainly the best plan,” said Henry, “and it's worth our while to try for that hidden boat of the Iroquois. Do you know the general direction?”
“Almost due north.”
“Then we'll make a curve to the right, in order to avoid any Iroquois who may be returning to this camp, and push for it.”
Henry led the way over hilly, rough ground, and the others followed in a silent file, Long Jim and Tom still carrying the two smallest children, who soon fell asleep on their shoulders. Henry did not believe that the returning Iroquois could follow their trail on such a dark night, and the others agreed with him.
After a while they saw the gleam of water. Henry knew that it must be very near, or it would have been wholly invisible on such a dark night.
“I think, Mrs. Newton,” he said, “that this is the river of which you spoke, and the cliffs seem to drop down just as you said they would.”
The woman smiled.