e
occasional howl of a cur, but both curs and Indians remained
invisible. Yet Dick felt that the pursuers were gaining. They
were numerous, and they could spread. Every time he and Albert
diverged from a straight line--and they could not help doing so
now and then--some portion of the pursuing body came nearer. It
was the advantage that the many had over the few.

Dick prayed for darkness, a shading of the moon, but it did not
come, and five minutes later he saw the yellow form of a cur
emerge into an open space. He took a shot at it and heard a
howl. He did not know whether he had killed the dog or not, but
he hoped he had succeeded. The shot brought forth a cry to their
right, and then another to the left. It was obvious that the
Sioux, besides being behind them, were also on either side of
them. They were gasping, too, from their long run, and knew that
they could not continue much farther.

"We can't shake them off, Al," said Dick, "and we'll have to
fight. This is as good a place as any other."

They dropped down into a rocky hollow, a depression not more
than a foot deep, and lay on their faces, gasping for breath.
Despite the deadly danger Dick felt a certain relief that he
did not have to run any more--there comes a time when a
moment's physical rest will overweigh any amount of mortal
peril.

"If they've surrounded us, they're very quiet about it," said
Albert, when the fresh air had flowed back into his lungs. "I
don't see or hear anything at all."

"At least we don't hear those confounded dogs any more," said
Dick. "Maybe there was only one pursuing us, and that shot of
mine got him. The howls of the cur upset my nerves more than the
shouts of the Sioux."

"Maybe so," said Albert.

Then they were both quite still. The moonlight was silvery
clear, and they could see pines, oaks, and cedars waving in a
gentle wind, but they saw nothing else. Yet Dick was well aware
that the Sioux had not abandoned the chase; they knew well where
the boys lay, and were all about them in the woods.

"Keep close, Albert," he said. "Indians are sly, and the Sioux
are the slyest of them all. They're only waiting until one of us
pops up his head, thinking they're gone."

Albert took Dick's advice, but so long a time passed without sign
from the Sioux that he began to believe that, in some mysterious
manner, they had evaded the savages. The belief had grown almost
into a certainty, when there was a fla