"Now I'm goin'," whispered Barringford. "Don't run till they ain't a-noticin' of you—unless, o' course, they come straight at you."
As silently as he had come Sam Barringford retreated, keeping the tree and some brushwood between himself and the enemy. Once more Henry was left alone, and again many anxious minutes passed.
Suddenly from a distance up the stream came a shot, followed by another, and then a well-known Indian war-whoop. The voice of a white man, calling out loudly, was heard, followed by another warcry, and a crashing and splitting of a tree branch.
Throwing down their pipes all the Indians around the camp-fire leaped to their feet and seized their weapons. With one accord they bounded up the stream to learn what the encounter so close at hand could mean. The war-whoop used was their own. Some of their own tribe must be making an attack or must be in danger.
No sooner had the Indians turned to leave him than Henry dropped his bonds and leaped behind the tree. With all possible speed he rushed straight into the woods. As he progressed he jumped from one rock to another, where this could be done, in order to leave as imperfect a trail as possible.
He felt that the shots, the cries and the war-
