e saw dim brown figures, but they
were never near enough for a shot. Then he would increase his pace, and
his four comrades would do the same.

Fortune, which had favored them so many times, did not do so now. It
persisted in remaining an uncommonly brilliant night. It seemed to
Henry's troubled mind that it was like the full blaze of noonday. The
moon that rode so high was phenomenal, a prodigy in size, and burnished
to an exasperating degree. Every star was out and twinkling as if this
were its last chance.

They reached the crest of a little hill, and now they saw the dusky
figures behind them more plainly. The Indians fired several shots, and
Henry and Tom Ross replied, reloading as they ran.

"Faster! A little faster!" cried Henry, and their breath grew shorter
and harder as they dashed on. The muscles of their legs ached. Little
pains smote them now and then in the chest, but they could not stop. It
was just such a border fight and pursuit as the woods, both north and
south of the Ohio, often witnessed, and of most of which there was never
any historian to tell.

Their speed was now decreasing, but they knew that the speed of the
Indians must be decreasing, too. All were trained runners alike,
pursuers and pursued, but they could not go on at such a high pace
forever.

Fortunately the far side of the hill and much of the ground beyond was
covered thickly with hazel-nut bushes. Into these they dashed, and now
they were hidden again from view. The closeness of the bushes caused
them to drop once more into Indian file, and now Henry, with those keen
backward glances of his, examined his comrades with an eye that would
not be deceived.

Paul showed signs of great weariness. He swayed a little from side to
side as he ran, and the red of exertion in his face gave place to the
white of exhaustion. Henry reckoned that he could not last much longer
and he prayed for darkness and deep thickets without end.

He looked up again. Surely the dazzling splendor of that exasperating
moon had been dimmed a little! And among the myriads of stars some were
twinkling with less fervor, if he could believe what he saw. Would bad
fortune turn to good? He looked again in five minutes, and now he was
sure. A cloud, light and fleecy, but a cloud, nevertheless, was drawing
itself closely across the face of the moon. Many of the stars, actually
grown bashful, were not twinkling now at all, and others had become
quite pale and dim. Th