rowth of willows and bushes so dense, in truth, that one could not see
into the stream without parting the foliage.

"Didn't I tell you we were lucky!" said Henry. "This branch poked itself
right across our path at the right moment to help us break our trail."

"Jedgment, Henry! Jedgment!" said the shiftless one. "We knowed that it
wuz best fur us to find a branch, an' so we jest run on till we found
one."

"It 'pears to me," said Long Jim, "that we're takin' to water a heap.
Always jumpin' into some branch or creek or river an' wadin', I feel
myself turnin' to a fish, a great big long catfish sech as you find in
the Ohio. Fins are comin' out on my ankles right now."

"An' your face is plum' covered with scales already," said Shif'less
Sol. "You're shorely a wonder, Jim."

Long Jim involuntarily clapped his hand to his face, and then both
laughed.

"At any rate," said Long Jim, "I'll be glad when we take to dry ground
ag'in."

But Henry led them a full mile, until he parted the bushes, and stepped
out on the west bank. The others followed and all five stood a moment or
two on the bank, while the water dripped from their leggings.

"Them fins has done growed on me, shore," whispered Long Jim to
Shif'less Sol. "Cur'us how water sticks to deerskin."

"How much further do we go, Henry?" asked Paul.

"Far enough to be safe," replied Henry. "I think two or three miles more
will put us out of their range. The walking won't be bad, and it will
help to dry our leggings."

"Wish I had one o' their hosses to ride on," said Shif'less Sol.
"'Twould jest suit me, a lazy man. I guess hosses wuzn't ever used in
these parts afore, but I'd ride one like the old knights that Paul talks
about, an' you, Long Jim, could hang on to the tail."

"I wouldn't hang on to the tail of nobody's hoss, an' least uv all to
the tail uv yourn, Sol Hyde."

"You'd hev to, Jim Hart, 'cause you'd be my serf. Knights always had
serfs that wuz glad to hang on to the tails o' their hosses, when the
knights would let 'em. Wouldn't I look grand, chargin' through the
forest on my war hoss, six feet high, me in my best Sunday brass suit,
speckled with gold scales, with my silver spear twenty feet long, an' my
great two-handed, gold-hilted sword beside me, an' Long Jim tied to the
tail o' my hoss, so he wouldn't git tired an' fall behind, when I wuz
chargin' the hull Shawnee tribe?"

"You'll never see that day, Sol Hyde. When we charge the Shawnee tr