"Bless you," Peter said, "there aint a native along the sh.o.r.e there but has got his eye on this canoe. We might as well take her straight back to the island as try to land. Better; for we should get a few hours before they tried and shot us there, while the Injuns would not give us a minute. No, we must just keep to the water; and now paddle on again, but take it quietly. It's no odds to let them varmints behind gain on us a little. You needn't think about them. When the danger comes we shall want every ounce of our strength."

For half an hour they paddled steadily on. The pursuing canoes were now less than a mile behind them.

"I'd give a good deal," muttered the scout, "for a few black clouds over the moon; we'd make for sh.o.r.e then and risk it. It will be getting daylight before long. Ah!" he exclaimed, pausing suddenly as the chief stopped rowing, "a canoe on each side is rowing out to cut us off."

Harold was now paddling forward, while the scout had the place at the stern. The former was surprised to feel the canoe shooting off from its former course at right angles toward the sh.o.r.e; then, curving still more round, they began to paddle back along the lake. The canoes which had been pursuing them were nearly abreast of each other. They had embarked from opposite sides of the island, but they had been gradually drawing together, although still some distance apart, when Peter turned his canoe. Seeing his maneuver, both turned to head him off, but by so doing they occupied an entirely different position in relation to each other, one canoe being nearly half a mile nearer to them than the other.

"Take it easy," Peter said. "These varmints will cut us off and we've got to fight, but we can cripple the one nearest to us before the other comes up."

The boats were now darting over the water in a line which promised to bring the leading canoe almost in collision with that of Peter. When within two hundred yards of each other Peter ceased rowing.

"Now," he said, "Harold, see if you can pick one of them fellows off.

It's no easy matter, traveling at the pace they are. You fire first."

Harold took a steady aim and fired. A yell of derision told that he had missed. The Indians stopped paddling. There was a flash and a ball struck the canoe. At the same moment Peter fired.

"There's one down!" he exclaimed.

The Seneca fired, but without result; and the three unwounded Indians in the canoe--for it had contained four men--replied with a volley.

Harold felt a burning sensation, as if a hot iron pa.s.sed across his arm.

"Hit, boy?" Peter asked anxiously as he gave a short exclamation.

"Nothing to speak of," Harold replied.

"The varmints are lying by, waiting for' the other canoe. Paddle straight at 'em."

The Indians at once turned the boat and paddled to meet their companions, who were fast approaching.

"Now," Peter exclaimed, "we've got 'em in a line--a steady aim this time."

The three rifles spoke out; one of the Indians fell into the boat and the paddle of another was struck from his grasp.

"Now," the scout shouted, "paddle away! We've got 'em all fairly behind us."

Day broke just as they were again abreast of the island. One canoe was following closely, two others were a mile and a half behind, while the one with which they had been engaged had made for the sh.o.r.e.

"What do you mean to do?" Harold asked Peter.

"I mean to run as close as I can round the end of the island, and then make for the place where they must have embarked on the mainland. They may have seen the signal fires there, but will not know what has been going on. So now row your best. We must leave the others as far behind as possible."

For the first time since they started the three paddlers exerted themselves to the utmost. They had little fear that there were any more canoes on the island, for, had there been, they would have joined in the chase. It was only necessary to keep so far from the end of the island as would take them out of reach of the fire.

Several shots were discharged as they pa.s.sed, but these fell short as the canoe shot along at its highest rate of speed, every stroke taking it further from its nearest pursuer.

At the end of an hour's paddling this canoe was a mile and a half behind. Its rowers had apparently somewhat abated their speed in order to allow the other two boats to draw up to them, for the result of the encounter between their comrades and the fugitives had not been of a nature to encourage them to undertake a single-handed contest with them.

CHAPTER VII.

IN THE FOREST.

"See, Peter!" Harold exclaimed; "there is a whole fleet of boats ahead."

"I sees 'em," Peter said, "and have seed 'em for the last quarter of an hour. It's Schuyler, with the rest of what they calls their army.

Steer a little out of the course; we must pa.s.s close by 'em. They won't suspect nothing wrong and will suppose we are merely carrying a message."

In half an hour they were abreast of the flotilla, consisting of flatboats laden with troops. With them were two or three Indian canoes. Peter steered so as to pa.s.s at a distance of a hundred and fifty yards. They rowed less strongly now, but still vigorously.

There was a shout from the boat.

"All well on the island?"

"All well," Peter shouted back, waving his hand, and without further word the canoe pa.s.sed on. "There! do you hear that?" Peter exclaimed.

"They're firing shots from the canoes to call their attention. The chances are they won't hear them, for the rattle of their oars and the talking and the row they're making are enough to drown the sound of a cannon. Now put it on again as hard as you can. Another hour will take us to the landing place."

They could see, when the flotilla came up to the pursuing boats, that the canoes which accompanied it turned their heads and joined in the pursuit, but they were now near three miles ahead and there was no chance whatever of their being overtaken. They slackened their speed slightly as they approached the land, and rowed up to the landing place without any signs of extraordinary haste. A few men were loitering about.

"What's the news from the island?" one asked as they landed.

"All well there," Peter said.

"Did you see anything of Schuyler?"

"Yes, we met him about halfway across."

"What have you come for?"

"General Montgomery says that no spare flints have been sent over for the firelocks."

"I'll swear that some went," one of the men exclaimed, "for I packed a sack of them myself in one of the boats."

"I s'pose they have been mislaid," Peter said. "Perhaps some of the stores have got heaped over 'em. Ef you are quite sartin, we have had our journey for nothing."

"As sartin as life," the man replied. "I'll swear to the sackful of flints; and tarnation heavy they was, too."

"Well, then, I need not trouble about it further," Peter said. "We'll take a rest and paddle back in an hour or two. Was there any marks on the sack, so as I may tell the general how to look for it?"

"Marks!" the man repeated. "Why, it had 'Flints' written on it in big black letters six inches long. It must turn up, anyhow. They'll find it when they come to shift the stores."

Then, accompanied by his two companions, Peter strolled quietly through the little village. Stopping at a small store, he purchased some flour and tea; then he followed the road inland and was soon out of sight of the village; he stopped for a moment and then shook his head.

"It's no use trying to hide our trail here," he said. "The road's an inch thick in dust, and do what we will they'll be able to see where we turn off. It's our legs as we have got to trust to for a bit.

We've got a good half hour's start of the canoes; they were a long three miles behind when we struck the sh.o.r.e."

Leaving the road, he led the way with a long, swinging stride across the cultivated land. Twenty minutes' walk took them into the forest, which extended from the sh.o.r.e of the lake many miles inland.