Another backward look, and he saw that the foe was sinking into the darkness.If he could only increase his speed again, be might leave the Iroquois now.He made a new call upon the will, and the body responded.For a few minutes his speed became greater.A disappointed shout arose behind him, and several shots were fired.But the bullets fell a hundred yards short, and then, as he passed over a little hill and into a wood beyond, he was hidden from the sight of his pursuers.
Henry knew that the Iroquois could trail him over the snow, but they could not do it at full speed, and he turned sharply off at an angle.Pausing a second or two for fresh breath, he continued on his new course, although not so fast as before.He knew that the Iroquois would rush straight ahead, and would not discover for two or three minutes that they were off the trail.It would take them another two or three minutes to recover, and he would make a gain of at least five minutes.Five minutes had saved the life of many a man on the border.
How precious those five minutes were! He would take them all.
He ran forward some distance, stopped where the trees grew thick, and then enjoyed the golden five, minute by minute.He had felt that he was pumping the very lifeblood from his heart.His breath had come painfully, and the thongs of the snowshoes were chafing his ankles terribly.But those minutes were worth a year.Fresh air poured into his lungs, and the muscles became elastic once more.In so brief a space be had recreated himself.
Resuming his flight, he went at a steady pace, resolved not to do his utmost unless the enemy came in sight.About ten minutes later he heard a cry far behind him, and he believed it to be a signal from some Indian to the others that the trail was found again.But with so much advantage he felt sure that he was now quite safe.He ran, although at decreased speed, for about two hours more, and then he sat down on the upthrust root of a great oak.Here he depended most upon his ears.The forest was so silent that he could hear any noise at a great distance, but there was none.Trusting to his ears to warn him, he would remain there a long time for a thorough rest.He even dared to take off his snowshoes that he might rub his sore ankles, but he wrapped his heavy blanket about his body, lest he take deep cold in cooling off in such a temperature after so long a flight.
He sat enjoying a half hour, golden like the five minutes, and then he saw, outlined against the bright, moonlit sky, something that told him he must be on the alert again.It was a single ring of smoke, like that from a cigar, only far greater.It rose steadily, untroubled by wind until it was dissipated.It meant "attention!" and presently it was followed by a column of such rings, one following another beautifully.The column said: " The foe is near." Henry read the Indian signs perfectly.The rings were made by covering a little fire with a blanket for a moment and then allowing the smoke to ascend.On clear days such signals could be seen a distance of thirty miles or more, and he knew that they were full of significance.
Evidently the Iroquois party had divided into two or more bands.
One had found his trail, and was signaling to the other.The party sending up the smoke might be a half mile away, but the others, although his trail was yet hidden from them, might be nearer.It was again time for flight.
He swiftly put on the snowshoes, neglecting no thong or lace, folded the blanket on his back again, and, leaving the friendly root, started once more.He ran forward at moderate speed for perhaps a mile, when he suddenly heard triumphant yells on both right and left.A strong party of Iroquois were coming up on either side, and luck had enabled them to catch him in a trap.
They were so near that they fired upon him, and one bullet nicked his glove, but he was hopeful that after his long rest he might again stave them off.He sent back no defiant cry, but, settling into determined silence, ran at his utmost speed.The forest here was of large trees, with no undergrowth, and he noticed that the two parties did not join, but kept on as they had come, one on the right and the other on the left.This fact must have some significance, but he could not fathom it.Neither could he guess whether the Indians were fresh or tired, but apparently they made no effort to come within range of his rifle.
Presently he made a fresh spurt of speed, the forest opened out, and then both bands uttered a yell full of ferocity and joy, the kind that savages utter only when they see their triumph complete.
Before, and far below Henry, stretched a vast, white expanse.He had come to the lake, but at a point where the cliff rose high like a mountain, and steep like a wall.The surface of the lake was so far down that it was misty white like a cloud.Now he understood the policy of the Indian bands in not uniting.They knew that they would soon reach the lofty cliffs of the lake, and if he turned to either right or left there was a band ready to seize him.
Henry's heart leaped up and then sank lower than ever before in his life.It seemed that he could not escape from so complete a trap, and Braxton Wyatt was not one who would spare a prisoner.
That was perhaps the bitterest thing of all, to be taken and tortured by Braxton Wyatt.He was there.He could hear his voice in one of the bands, and then the courage that never failed him burst into fire again.
The Iroquois were coming toward him, shutting him out from retreat to either right or left, but not yet closing in because of his deadly rifle.He gave them a single look, put forth his voice in one great cry of defiance, and, rushing toward the edge of the mighty cliff, sprang boldly over.
