Indians filed past, like hounds upon the trail. Lewis, clutching Jacob
to keep him quiet, waited. No more Indians came. Lewis chuckled.

"We'll follow on behind, but we'll have to be watching sharp for 'em to
turn back," he whispered.

So they followed their pursuers, instead of their pursuers following
them. The regular Indian trick had worked finely. But even a rabbit
knows enough to do that: to hide beside its trail while its hunters
race on. Lewis and Jacob felt smart indeed.

They kept their eyes and ears alert. Soon they heard the Indians
coming back, on the trail, as if puzzled.

"Hide," Lewis whispered.

It was done at once, by a silent dart to the left and a squatting
behind bushes. Again they held their breaths. Lewis's wound throbbed
and stung, but he uttered not a murmur. The Indians passed; their keen
eyes noted nothing suspicious; their sounds died away--

"All right, Jakie."

They set out once more, hastening on down the forest trail flecked by
the moonlight; Lewis led, lugging the heavy gun, Jacob trotted close at
his heels. Rabbits hopped and flattened, a fox or two glided, there
was nothing dangerous, until--

"Listen!"

They two stopped short, and poised, heads turned. Lewis painfully
stooped and put his ear to the ground.

"They're following us horseback. We'll have to hide again."

They came to a good spot, and hid. This time it was two Indians on
horses, sure enough, moving rapidly to catch them. Morning was near.
The forest paled with the first tinge of dawn. They straightened up
cautiously.

"I think we'd better leave this trail, Jakie," Lewis said. "We'll
strike right east, for the river. We can't get lost now."

The sun rose, and they were still trudging fast, and no Indians had
followed them. The Indians had been fooled nicely. About eleven
o'clock they sighted the Ohio--they came out almost opposite the mouth
of Wheeling Creek! Their father and Martin could not have beaten this,
for a scout feat.

"There's Zane's Island!" Lewis panted. "Hooray, Jakie! There's the
smoke of Wheeling settlement. We're nearly home."

He was just about worn out. For a boy of fourteen, with a big gash
across his chest, and a gun to carry, and a little boy to look after,
it had been a tough stunt--that fifteen-mile tramp by night and day, on
an empty stomach.

"Let's yell, Lewis, so somebody'll come for us."

"No. Injuns might hear us. We'll have to make a raft. We