Henry and Paul were silent. It was the most terrible irony to stand there and see the savages rejoicing over the cruel fate of their comrade, and, as the water rose in their eyes, there came at the same time out of the depths of the forest the long lone howl of the wolf, now a deep thrilling note, something like a chord.

"It's Shif'less Sol! he's safe!" cried Long Jim. "It's jest a trick they're workin', tryin' to beat down our sperrits, an' good old Sol is tellin' us so!"

"It's sh.o.r.ely time," said Silent Tom, "an' that's an old scalp they're whirlin'."

They had never before known the cry of a wolf to have such a deep and thrilling quality, but it came again as full and resounding as before, and they were satisfied. Not a doubt remained in the heart of any one of them. The shiftless one was safe and he had twice told them so. How could they ever have thought that he would allow himself to be trapped so easily? The savages might dance on and sing on as much as they pleased, but it did not matter now.

"After lookin' at them gyrations," said Long Jim, "I needs refreshment.

A dancin' an' singin' party always makes me hungry. Will you j'in me in a ven'son an' water banquet, me n.o.ble luds?"

"Go ahead the rest o' you," said Tom Ross, "I'll watch."

They drank from the rill, lay down on their couches and ate the deer meat with splendid appet.i.tes. The revulsion was so great that anything would have been good to them.

"That wuz a purty smart trick, after all," said Long Jim. "Ef they'd made us think they'd got Shif'less Sol's scalp they'd make us think, too, that they'd git our own soon. An' they reckoned then, mebbe, that we'd be so weak-sperrited we'd come out an' surrender."

"I foresee another dull and long period of inaction," said Henry.

And what he said came to pa.s.s. They remained two more days in their little fortress, besieged so closely that they did not dare to move.

Yet the besiegers themselves were kept in a constant state of alarm. One of their best hunters, sent out for deer, failed to come back, and his body was found in the forest. The others began to be oppressed by superst.i.tious fears, and it required all of Wyatt's eloquence and force to keep them to their task.

It was in Henry's mind to wait for a wet night and then risk all and go.

It was the rainy time of the year, and on their sixth night in the cavern the storm that they wished for so earnestly came, preceded by the usual heralds, deep thunder and vivid lightning.

The four made ready swiftly. Every one carried upon his back his blanket and a large supply of venison. The locks of rifles and other weapons and powder were kept dry under their hunting shirts. Henry thrust the extra rifle into a crevice, having an idea that he might need it some day, and would find it there. Then as the thunder and lightning ceased and the deep darkness and rushing rain came they took a last look at the strong little castle that had been such a haven to them. Only eyes like theirs trained to dusk could have made out its walls and roof and floor.

"It's like leaving home," said Paul.

"Thar's one good thing," said Long Jim. "The savages in thar meanness can't destroy it."

Henry led, and, Silent Tom bringing up the rear, they slipped into the open air, keeping close to one another lest they be lost in the thick darkness. Despite the pouring rain and the lash of the wind it felt good out there. They had been so long in one small close place that it was freedom to have again the whole open world about them. The four stood a little while to breathe it in and then Henry led through the underbrush to the top of the hill.

"Bend low," he whispered to Paul, who was just behind him. "They must have a sentinel near here somewhere, and we don't want to run into him."

Paul obeyed him and went on, but none of them noticed that Tom Ross, who was last, turned softly aside from the path, and then swung the b.u.t.t of his rifle with all his might. But all heard the impact and the sound of a fall, and, as they whirled around, Henry asked:

"What is it?"

"The sentinel," replied Ross. "He won't bother us."

On they went in single file again, but Paul shuddered. As their flight lengthened they increased their speed, and, when they were a half mile away, Paul jumped, as the long piercing howl of the wolf rose directly in front of him. It was Henry sending the signal to the shiftless one, and in an instant they heard a similar note in answer from a distant point.

As they advanced further the signals were repeated and then the shiftless one came with swiftness and without noise through the bushes, rising up like a phantom before them. There were happy handshakes and the five, reunited once more, fled southward through the darkness and rain.

"I thought you'd come out tonight, Henry," said Shif'less Sol. "An' I wuz waitin' on the ridge 'til I heard your signal. Ain't it grand fur all o' us to be together ag'in, an' to hev beat Braxton Wyatt?"

"It was you, Sol, who were our greatest help."

The shiftless one chuckled, pleased at the compliment.

"Guess I wuz the flyin' wing o' our little army," he said. "Mebbe Wyatt an' them warriors will hang 'roun' thar two or three days afore they find out we've gone."

"Not that long. The head of a warrior met Tom's clubbed rifle as we came away, and if they don't find him tonight they certainly will in the morning."

"I don't care anyway. That band can't overtake us, an' it can't trail us on a night like this. Thar! They've found the warrior!"

The faint sound of a yell, more like an echo, came on the wind and rain, but it brought no fears to the five. They were quite sure that no pursuit could overtake them now. After a while, they let their gait sink to a walk, and began to pick their way carefully through the dripping forest. As they were wet, all save their ammunition, they did not hesitate to wade many flooded brooks and they felt that when day came their trail would still be hidden from even the keenest of the Indian trailers.

Henry did not believe that Wyatt and his warriors could find them unless by chance, and as they were now many miles from the cavern, and the day was not far away, he began to think of a stopping place. Continued exertion had kept them warm, despite the rain, but it would not be wise to waste their strength in a rapid flight, continued a long time.

"All of you keep an eye for shelter," he said "Maybe we can find a windrow that will at least shut off a part of the rain."

He alluded to the ma.s.ses of trees sometimes thrown down by a hurricane, often over a swath not more than two hundred yards wide. Where men did not exist to clear them away they were numerous in Kentucky, acc.u.mulating for uncounted years. But it was more than an hour before they came upon one of these heaps of tree trunks thrown thickly together.

Yet it was a good den or lair. Many of the fallen leaves had sifted in and lay there. Perhaps bears had used these recesses in the winter, but the five were not scrupulous. Their lives were pa.s.sed in the primitive, and they knew how to make the most of everything that nature offered, no matter how little.

"I reckon we den up here," said Long Jim.

"We do," said Henry, "and we might go farther and find a much worse place."

The trees evidently had been thrown down a long time, as great ma.s.ses of vines had grown over them, forming an almost complete roof. Very little rain came through, and, as they had managed to keep their ammunition as well as their blankets dry, the lair was better than anything for which they had hoped. Trusting to the darkness and their concealment, all five wrapped themselves in their blankets and went to sleep.

Now and then drops of rain forced their way through the vines and fell on the sleepers, but they did not awake. Such trifles as these did not disturb them. They were a part of the great wilderness, used to its ways, and troubled little by the ordinary hardships of human beings. The mental tension and the anxieties from which they had suffered were gone.

The siege broken, and reunited, they could pursue the main force and the cannon with speed.

The great revulsion made their sleep easy and untroubled. Not one of them stirred as he lay beneath the covering made by the ancient hurricane, and every one of them breathed long and deep.

Nature was watching over them while they slept. They belonged to the forest, and the forest was taking care of its own. The rain increased and it was driven harder by the wind, but folded in their blankets they remained snug, while their clothing dried upon them. A bear that had hibernated there, fleeing from the rain sought his own den, but he was driven away by the man smell. A bedraggled panther had an idea of taking the same shelter, but he too was repelled in like manner.

The forest watched over its own not only through the night but after the sun rose. Braxton Wyatt and his warriors, consumed with rage, could find no sign of a trail. They had entered the cavern and seized upon the portions of venison left there, although the rifle escaped their notice, and then they had begun the vain pursuit. Long before day they gave it up, and started after the main army.

It had been Henry's intention to sleep only the two hours until dawn, but the relaxation, coming after immense exertions and anxieties, kept him and all the others sound asleep long after the dripping forest was bathed in sunlight. It was a bright ray of the same sunlight entering through a crevice and striking him in the eye that awakened him. He looked at his comrades. They were so deep in slumber that not one of them stirred.

He heard a light swift sound overhead and saw that it was a gray squirrel running along their roof. Then came a song, pure and sweet, that thrilled through the forest. It was sung by a small gray bird perched on a vine almost directly over Henry's head, and he wondered that such a volume of music could come from such a tiny body.

The squirrel and the bird together told him that nothing unusual was stirring in the forest. If warriors were near that morning song would not be poured forth in such a clear and untroubled stream. The bird was their warder, their watchman, and he told them that it was sunrise and all was well. Feeling the utmost confidence in the small sentinel, and knowing that they needed more strength for the pursuit, Henry closed his eyes and went to sleep again.

The little gray bird was the most redoubtable of sentinels. Either the figures below were hidden from him or instinct warned him that they were friends. He hopped from bough to bough of the great windrow, and nearly always he sang. Now his song was clear and happy, saying that no enemy came in the forest. He sang from sheer delight, from the glory of the sunshine, and the splendor of the great green forest, drying in the golden glow. Now and then the gray squirrel came down from a tree and ran over the windrow. There was no method in his excursions. It was just pure happiness, the physical expression of high spirits.

The shiftless one was the next to awake, and he too looked at his sleeping comrades. His task had been the hardest of them all. Although his body had acquired the quality of steel wire, it had yielded nevertheless under the strain of so many pursuits and flights. Now he heard that bird singing above him and as it told him, too, that no danger was near, he shifted himself a little to ease his muscles and went to sleep again.

A half-hour later Long Jim came out of slumberland, but he opened only one eye. The bird was trilling and quavering in the most wonderful way, telling him as he understood it, to go back whence he had come, and he went at once. Then came Paul, not more than half awakened, and the music of the song lulled him. He did not have time to ask himself any question before he had returned to sleep, and the bird sang on, announcing that noon was coming and all was yet well.

CHAPTER XII

ON THE GREAT TRAIL