e compelled to swim somewhat with the stream, because the
opposite bank was so steep that to climb it would take time that could
not be spared. Henry, as he swam, with the strong, circular sweep of a
single arm, listened, and he heard the rhythmical sweep of the paddles
growing louder. The creek curved before him, and the steep bank, too
deep to climb at such a moment, was still there. He saw, too, that it
ran on for at least a hundred yards more, and meanwhile the canoes, with
nothing in their way, were coming swiftly. He could almost count the
strokes of the paddles.

He glanced back and looked into the eyes of Shif'less Sol directly
behind him. He knew by his comrade's look that he, too, had heard. The
faces of the others showed the same knowledge.

"Swim as fast as you can, boys," he whispered, "but be careful not to
splash the water!"

They scarcely needed this advice, because they were already making
supreme efforts. Meanwhile, the unconscious pursuit was coming nearer.
Only the curve that they had just turned kept them hidden from the
occupants of the canoes.

It was a terribly long hundred yards, and it seemed to all of the five
that they scarcely moved, although they were swimming fast.

"I've been chased by the Injuns through the woods an' over the hills an'
across the prairies," groaned Shif'less Sol, "an' now they've took to
chasin' me through the water. They'd run me through the sky if they
could."

"Look out, Sol," said Henry. "The Indians are so near now that I think I
can hear them talking."

The sound of low voices came, in fact, from a point beyond the curve,
and now they could hear not only the beat of the paddles, but the
trickle of the water when one was lifted occasionally from the stream.
In another minute the canoes would turn the curve, and their occupants
could not keep from seeing the fugitives.

Henry swam desperately, not for himself alone, but to lead the way for
his comrades. At last he saw the shelving bank, twenty yards away, then
ten, then five. His feet touched bottom, he ran forward and sprang
ashore, the water running from him as if from some young river god. But
rifle and ammunition had been kept above the flood, and were dry.

Just as he reached the bank a shout of triumph, having in it an
indescribably ferocious note, filled all the forest and was returned in
dying echoes. The Indians in their canoes had turned the curve and had
instantly seen the fugitives, four of who