“Come!” exclaimed Deerfoot, breaking in upon him. “Come, if you no wish to die.”
Without a word he turned and sped into the forest, the two boys closely following him. Less than a quarter of a mile behind them they could hear the war cry of the enraged redmen, hot upon their trail. This was no time to think of family or anything else except self preservation. Both boys realized that this was to be a race with a prize of life or death at the finish, and this knowledge provided them with additional strength.
With Deerfoot in the lead, they fled silently and swiftly through the fast gathering darkness of the forest. If they could outstrip their pursuers and keep out of their way until darkness fell, then their chances of escape would be redoubled. They were fully aware of this fact and they knew also that the foes at their heels knew it, too. Deerfoot set a heart-breaking pace and if the two brothers had not been in excellent condition they never could have hoped to maintain the speed with which they were running.
Neither boy had any idea of the direction in which they were fleeing. They followed their leader blindly, trusting implicitly in him to save them. Their entire attention was centered in Deerfoot and they paid no attention to any task other than that of doing their utmost to keep pace with their leader.
Behind them resounded the shouts of their pursuers and the fugitives seemed to acquire renewed speed every time they heard the blood-curdling cries.
At length, however, they began to weaken. No one was able to maintain such a pace very much farther. At least that is what both Robert and Joseph were thinking. They still had their rifles, and they were determined to hold them at any cost. The guns were heavy, however, and undoubtedly prevented the boys from maintaining their speed.
The darkness increased and Deerfoot began steadily to draw away from his two young friends. Born and reared in the woods, and lightly dressed, he proved more than a match for the fast tiring brothers. They struggled desperately to keep up but they both realized that before long they would be compelled to stop. And ever nearer sounded the war whoop of the Sacs.
“I can’t go much farther, Deerfoot,” panted Joseph.
“Nor I,” gasped Robert.
At the word the flying Indian slackened his pace and waited for the boys to catch up.