m were still in the creek.
Exultant over this sudden find and what they regarded as a sure capture,
they plied their paddles with such a spasm of energy that the canoes
fairly leaped over the water.

Henry, on the bank, knew that only instant and deadly action could save
his comrades. He threw up his rifle, took a single glance along the
polished barrel, which glittered in the moonlight, and fired. An Indian
in the foremost canoe, uttering a cry which was all the more terrible
because it was checked half way, dropped his paddle into the water, fell
over the side of the canoe, hung there a moment, and then sank into the
creek.

The boat itself stopped, and the one just behind it, unable to check its
impetus, ran into it, and both capsized. Despite Indian stoicism, cries
arose, and six or seven warriors were struggling in the water.
Meanwhile, Shif'less Sol and Ross also gained the land and fired.
Another warrior was slain, and another wounded.

All the canoes, menaced by such a deadly aim, stopped, and several of
the occupants fired at the five on the bank. But firing from such an
unsteady platform, their bullets went wild, and only cut the leaves of
the forest. Henry had now reloaded, but he did not pull the trigger a
second time. He had noticed a movement in the woods on the opposite bank
of the creek, the one that they had just left. Bushes were waving, and
in a moment their original pursuers came into view. Henry sent his
bullet toward them, and Shif'less Sol did the same. Then the five turned
to flee.

A great medley of shouts and yells arose behind them, yells of anger,
shouts of encouragement as the two Indian parties, the one from the
canoes and the other from the woods, joined, and Henry heard splash
after splash, as pursuing warriors sprang into the water. He knew now
that, in this instance, at least, the race would be to the swift, and
the battle to the strong.

They did not run in Indian file, but kept well abreast, although Henry,
at the right end of the line, made the course. No one spoke. The only
sounds were the light, swift tread of moccasins and of rapid breathing.
Their pursuers, too, had ceased to shout. Not a single war cry was
uttered, but every one of the five knew that the warriors would hang on
hour after hour, throughout the night, and then throughout all the next
day, if need be.

For an hour they sped through the woods, and once or twice in the more
open places, as Henry looked back, h