The Eyes of the Woods Part 11

"And you, Jim?"

"North, uv course."

"And you, Tom?"

"North."

"And Sol and I have already spoken. We'll make for the low point across there, sink the canoe and go into the forest. The Indians will be sure in time to pick up our trail and follow us, but we'll escape 'em as we've escaped twice already."

"Red Eagle and Yellow Panther will come for us now," said Paul. "It's their turn next."

"Let 'em," said Long Jim in sanguine tones. "They can't beat us."

They were now out of the rapids and were paddling swiftly toward the northern sh.o.r.e, with their eyes on a small cove, where the bushes grew thick to the water's edge. When they reached it they pushed the canoe into the dense thicket and sank it.

"After all," said s.h.i.+f'less Sol, "we're not partin' wholly with our friend. We know whar he is, an' he'll wait here until some time or other when we want him ag'in."

Gathering up their arms, ammunition and supplies, they traveled northward through the dense forest until they came to a small and well sheltered valley, where they concluded to rest, it being full time, as collapse was coming fast after their great exertions and intense strain.

Nevertheless, Silent Tom was able to keep the first watch, while the others threw themselves on the ground and went to sleep almost instantly.

Tom had promised to awaken s.h.i.+f'less Sol in two hours, but he did not do so. He knew how much his comrades needed rest, and being willing to sacrifice himself, he watched until dawn, which came bright, cold at first, and then full of grateful warmth, a great sun hanging in a vast disc of reddish gold over the eastern forest.

Silent Tom Ross, in his most talkative moments, was a man of few words, at other times of none, but he felt deeply. A life spent wholly in the woods into which he fitted so supremely had given him much of the Indian feeling. He, too, peopled earth, air and water with spirits, and to him the wild became incarnate. The great burning sun, at which he took occasional glances, was almost the same as the G.o.d of the white man and the Manitou of the red man. He had keenly appreciated their danger, both when Henry was at the hollow, and when they were in the canoe on the river, hemmed in on three sides. And yet they had come safely from both nets. The skill of the five had been great, but more than human skill had helped them to escape from such watchful and powerful enemies.

Tom Ross, as he looked at the faces of his comrades, knitted to him by so many hards.h.i.+ps and perils shared, was deeply grateful. He took one or two more glances at the great burning sun, and the sky that looked like illimitable depths of velvet blue, and then he surveyed the whole circle of the forest curving around them. It was silent there, no sign of a foe appeared, all seemed to be as peaceful as a great park in the Old World.

Tom said no words, not even to himself, but his prayer of thanks ran:

"O Lord, I offer my grat.i.tude to Thee for the friends whom Thou hast given me. As they have been faithful to me in every danger, so shall I try to be faithful to them. Perhaps my mind moves more slowly than theirs, but I strive always to make it move in the right way. They are younger than I am, and I feel it my duty and my pleasure, too, to watch over them, despite their strength of body, mind and spirit. I have not the gift of words, nor do I pray for it, but help me in other things that I may do my part and more."

Then Tom Ross felt uplifted. The dangers pa.s.sed were pa.s.sed, and those to come could not press upon him yet. He was singularly light of heart, and the wind sang among the leaves for him, though not in words, as it sang often for Henry.

He took another look at his comrades, and they still slept as if they would never awake. The strain of the preceding nights and days had been tremendous, and their spirits, having gone away with old King Sleep to his untroubled realms, showed no signs of a wish to come back again to a land of unlimited peril. He had promised faithfully to awaken one of them long ago for the second turn at the watch, and he knew that all of them expected to be up at sunrise, but he had broken his promise and he was happy in the breaking of it.

Nor did he awaken them now. Instead he made a wide circle through the forest, using his good eyes and good ears to their utmost. The stillness had gone, because birds were singing from pure joy at the dawn, and the thickets rustled with the movements of small animals setting about the day's work and play. But Silent Tom knew all these sounds, and he paid no attention to them. Instead he listened for man, man the vengeful, the dangerous and the deadly, and hearing nothing from him and being sure that he was not near, he went back to the place where the four sleepers lay. Examining them critically he saw that they had not stirred a particle. They had been so absolutely still that they had grown into the landscape itself.

Tom Ross smiled a deep smile that brought his mouth well across his face and made his eyes crinkle up, and then, disregarding their wishes with the utmost lightness of heart, he sat himself down, calmly letting them sleep on. He produced from an inside pocket a long stretch of fine, thin, but very strong cord, and ran it through his fingers until he came to the sharp hook on the end. It was all in good trim, and his questing eye soon saw where a long, slender pole could be cut. Then he put thread and hook back in his pocket, and sat as silent as the sleepers, but bright-eyed and watchful. No one could come near without his knowledge.

s.h.i.+f'less Sol awoke first, yawning mightily, but he did not yet open his eyes.

"Who's watchin'?" he called.

"Me," replied Ross.

"Is it day yet?"

"Look up an' see."

The s.h.i.+ftless one did look up, and when he beheld the great sun s.h.i.+ning almost directly over his head he exclaimed in surprise:

"Why, Tom, is it today or tomorrer?"

"It's today, though I guess it's well on to noon."

"Seein' the sun whar it is, an' feelin' now ez ef I had slep' so long, I thought mebbe it might be tomorrer. An' it bein' so late an' me sleepin', too, it looks ez ef the warriors ought to hev us."

"But they hevn't, Sol. All safe."

"No, Tom, they hevn't got us, an' now, hevin' learned from your long an'

volyble conversation that it ain't tomorrer an' that we are free, 'stead o' bein' taken captive an' bein' burned at the stake by the Injuns, I'm feelin' mighty fine."

"Sol, you talk real foolish at times. How could we be took by the Injuns an' be burned alive at the stake, an' not know nothin' 'bout it?"

"Don't ask me, Tom. Thar are lots o' strange things that I don't pretend to understan', an' me a smart man, too. Here, you, Jim Hart! Wake up!

Shake them long legs an' arms o' yours an' cook our breakfast!"

Silent Tom began to laugh, not audibly, but his lips moved in such a manner that they betrayed risibility. The s.h.i.+ftless one looked at him suspiciously.

"Tom Ross," he said, "what you laughin' at?"

"You told Long Jim to cook breakfast, didn't you?"

"I sh.o.r.ely did, an' I meant it, too."

"He ain't."

"Why ain't he?"

"Because he ain't."

"Ef he ain't, then why ain't he?"

"Because thar ain't any."

"Thar ain't any breakfast, you mean?"

"Jest what I say. He ain't goin' to cook breakfast, 'cause thar ain't any to cook, an' thar ain't no more to say."

Henry and Paul, awakening at the sound of the voices, sat up and caught the last words.

"Do you mean to tell us, Tom," exclaimed Paul, "that we have nothing to eat?"

"Sh.o.r.ely," said Silent Tom triumphantly. "Look! See!"

All of them examined their packs quickly, but they had eaten the last sc.r.a.p of food the day before. Silent Tom's mouth again stretched across his face with triumph and his eyes crinkled up.

"Right, ain't it?" he asked exultantly.

"Look here you, Tom Ross," exclaimed s.h.i.+f'less Sol, indignantly, "you'd rather be right an' starve to death than be wrong an' live!"