“Jumpin’ Jehoshaphat!” cried Shif’less Sol, as a bullet whistled past his ear.  “Ef that don’t put life into a tired man, I don’t know what will.”

He ran with amazing swiftness, and Paul, light-footed, kept beside him.  But the alert Shawnee warriors, ever quick to answer an alarm, were already in fleet pursuit, and only the darkness kept their bullets from striking true.  Paul looked back once—­even in the moment of haste and danger he could not help it—­and he saw three warriors in advance of the others, coming so fast that they must overtake them.  He and Sol might beat them off, but one cannot fight well and at the same time escape from a multitude.  His heart sank.  He would be recaptured, and with him the gallant Shif’less Sol.

Flashes of fire suddenly appeared in the forest toward which they ran, and death cries came from the two warriors who pursued.  Shif’less Sol uttered an exultant gasp.

“The boys!” he said.  “They’re thar in the woods, a-helpin’.”

Daunted by the sudden covering fire, the pursuing mob fell back for a few moments, and the two fugitives plunged into the deep and friendly shadows of the woods.  Three figures, all carrying smoking rifles, rose up to meet them.  The figures were those of Henry Ware, Tom Ross, and Jim Hart.  Henry reached out his hand and gave Paul’s a strong and joyous grasp.

“Well, Sol has brought you!” he said.

“But Sol’s not goin’ to stop runnin’ yet for a long time, tired ez he is,” gasped the shiftless one.

“Good advice,” said Henry, laughing low, and without another word the five ran swiftly and steadily northward through the deep woods.  Henry had on his shoulder an extra rifle, which he had brought for Paul, so confident was he that Sol would save him; but he said nothing about it for the present, preferring to carry the added weight himself.  They heard behind them two or three times the long-drawn, terrible cry with which Paul was so familiar, but it did not now send any quiver through him.  He was with the ever-gallant comrades who had come for him, and he was ready to defy any danger.

Henry Ware, after a while, stopped very suddenly, and the others stopped with him.

“I think we’d better turn here,” he said, unconsciously assuming his natural position of leader.  “It’s not worth while to run ourselves to death.  What we’ve got to do is to hide.”

“Them’s blessed words!” gasped Shif’less Sol.  “I wuz never so tired in all my born days.  Seems to me I’ve been chased by Shawnees all over this here continent of North Ameriky!”

Paul laughed low, from pure pleasure—­pleasure at his escape and pleasure in the courage, loyalty, and skill of his comrades.

“You may be tired, Sol,” he said, “but there was never a braver man than you.”

“It ain’t bravery,” protested the shiftless one.  “I get into these things afore I know it, an’ then I’ve got to kick like a mule to get out o’ ’em.”