“Yes,” said Daniel Poe.  “Nobody else ever made such an impression upon me.  And the one they call Paul is a fine fellow, too.  I wish I had a son like that.”

“He’s the most popular fellow in the train already,” said Dick Salter.

Both looked admiringly at Paul, who was walking near the head of the line, a group of lithe, strong-limbed boys and girls surrounding him and begging him for stories of the wilderness.  Paul remained with the train by arrangement.  It was his business to cheer, invigorate, and hearten for a great task, while his comrades roamed the forest and looked for the danger that they knew would surely come.  Never did youth succeed better at his chosen task, as confidence spread from him like a contagion.

Paul presently quickened his steps, and came quite to the head of the line, where Daniel Poe and Dick Salter were walking, both circling the forest ahead of them with anxious eyes.  They and Paul at the same time saw a figure emerge from the woods in front.  It was Henry, and he was coming on swift foot.  In an instant he was before them, and Paul knew by his look that he had news.

“They are waiting?” said Paul.

“Yes,” replied Henry.  “They are in the thickets at the ford, less than two miles ahead.”

Daniel Poe shuddered again—­for the five hundred lives in his charge—­and then his heart rose.  The waiting, the terrible suspense, were over, and it was battle now.  The fact contained relief.

“Shall we halt?” he said to Henry.  Unconsciously, he, too, was submitting to the generalship of this king of forest runners.

“No,” replied Henry; “we’ve got to go on some time or other, and they can wait as long as we can.  We must force the passage of the ford.  We can do it.”

He spoke with confidence, and courage seemed to leap like sparks from him and set fire to the others.

“Then it’s go ahead,” said Daniel Poe grimly.  “We’ll force the passage.”

“Put all the little children, and all the women who don’t fight, in the wagons, and make them lie down,” said Henry.  “The men must swarm on either flank.  My comrades will remain in the front, watching until we reach the river.”

Then a great bustle and the chatter of many voices arose; but it soon died away before stern commands and equally stern preparations, because they were preparing to run as terrible a gantlet as human beings ever face, these dauntless pioneers of the wilderness.  The children were quickly loaded in the wagons, and all the weaker of the women; but with the men on the flanks marched at least two-score grim Amazons, rifle in hand.

Then the train resumed its slow march, and nothing was heard but the rolling of the wheels and the low cluck of the drivers to their horses.  The way still led through an open, parklike country, and the road was easy.  Soon those in front saw a faint streak cutting across the forest.  The streak was silvery at first, and then blue, and it curved away to north and south among low hills.