hets glinted in the sunshine, and their quivers were
stuck full of arrows. One by one they glided from the stream into the
thick woods beyond. We waited until we knew that they were were deep in
the forest, then crept from the willows and went our way.

"They were Youghtenunds," I said, in the low tones we used when we spoke
at all, "and they went to the southward."

"We may thank our stars that they missed our trail," Diccon answered.

We spoke no more, but, leaving the stream, struck again toward the
south. The day wore on, and still we went without pause. Sun and shade
and keen wind, long stretches of pine and open glades where we quickened
our pace to a run, dense woods, snares of leafless vines, swamp and
thicket through which we toiled so slowly that the heart bled at the
delay, streams and fallen trees,--on and on we hurried, until the sun
sank and the dusk came creeping in upon us.

"We've dined with Duke Humphrey to-day," said Diccon at last; "but if we
can keep this pace, and don't meet any more war parties, or fall foul of
an Indian village, or have to fight the wolves to-night, we'll dine with
the Governor to-morrow. What's that?"

"That" was the report of a musket, and a spent ball had struck me above
the knee, bruising the flesh beneath the leather of my boot.

We wheeled, and looked in the direction whence lead come that unwelcome
visitor. There was naught to be seen. It was dusk in the distance,
and there were thickets too, and fallen logs. Where that ambuscade was
planted, if one or twenty Indians lurked in the dusk behind the trees,
or lay on the further side of those logs, or crouched within a thicket,
no mortal man could tell.

"It was a spent ball," I said. "Our best hope is in our heels."

"There are pines beyond, and smooth going," he answered; "but if ever I
thought to run from an Indian!"

Without more ado we started. If we could outstrip that marksman, if we
could even hold our distance until night had fallen, all might yet be
well. A little longer, and even an Indian must fire at random; moreover,
we might reach some stream and manage to break our trail. The ground was
smooth before us,--too smooth, and slippery with pine needles; the pines
themselves stood in grim brown rows, and we ran between them lightly and
easily, husbanding our strength. Now and again one or the other looked
behind, but we saw only the pines and the gathering dusk. Hope was
strengthening in us, when a second bu