he dog coming down through the forest.

The single sound, rising and swelling after the long silence was uncanny
and terrifying. The face of Tom Ross turned absolutely pale through the
tan of many years. Henry himself could not repress a shudder.

"We must run for it again," he said. "We could stay and fight, of
course, but it's likely that the Indians are in large numbers."

"If we could only shake off the hound," muttered Tom Ross. "Did you pay
'tention to his voice then, Henry? Did you notice how deep it was? I
tell you that ain't no common dog."

Henry nodded and they swung once more into flight. But he and Shif'less
Sol, the best two marksmen on the border, dropped to the rear.

"We must get a shot at that dog," whispered Henry. "Very likely it's a
big wolf hound."

"I think so," said Shif'less Sol, "but I tell you, Henry, I don't like
to hear it bayin'. It sounds to me jest ez ef it wuz sayin': 'I've got
you! I've got you! I've got you!' Do you reckon there kin be anything in
what Tom says?"

"Of course not. Of course not," replied Henry. "Tom's been picking up
too much Indian superstition."

At that moment the deep baying note so unlike the ordinary bark of an
Indian dog came again, and Henry, despite himself, felt the cold chill
at his heart once more. Involuntarily he and the shiftless one glanced
at each other, and each read the same in the other's eyes.

"We're bound to get that dog, hound, cur, or whatever he may be!"
exclaimed Henry almost angrily.

Shif'less Sol said nothing, but he cast many backward glances at the
bushes. Often he saw them move slightly in a direction contrary to the
course of the wind, but he could not catch a glimpse of the body that
caused them to move. Nor could Henry. Twice more they heard the war cry
of the savages, coming apparently from at least a score of throats, and
not more than three or four hundred yards away. Henry knew that they
were depending entirely upon the dog, and his eagerness for a shot
increased. He could not keep his finger away from the trigger. He longed
for a shot.

"We must kill that dog," he said to Shif'less Sol; "we can't run on
forever."

"No, we can't, but we kin run jest as long as the Injuns kin," returned
the shiftless one, "an' while we're runnin' we may get the chance we
want at the dog."

The pursuit went on for a long time. The Indians never came into view,
but the occasional baying of the hound told the fleeing five that they
we