"They have discovered us! They are after us!" burst from Dave's lips. "What shall we do?"
"We've got to run for it," was Henry's answer. "Hurry up, before it's too late."
"But the deer."
"We'll have to let them go. Come!"
Side by side they darted into the forest back of the watercourse and made their way with all possible speed between bushes, trees and rocks. There was no trail and neither knew exactly where he was going. Once Dave tripped on some roots and pitched headlong, but he picked himself up in a hurry and, panting for breath, kept on as before.
The retreat of the two young hunters came none too quick, for scarcely had they reached the shelter of the wood when several of the Indians let fly with their arrows, one of which almost clipped Henry's shoulder. This fixed the situation beyond all dispute.
"They are on the war-path, or they wouldn't fire on us," said Dave. "Are you winged?"
"No, but it was a pretty close aim. Who can they be?"
"I believe they are some of Fox Head's dirty band. If they catch us I believe they'll kill us."
"Or keep us to torture," answered the older
