Henry and Shif'less Sol generally kept
together, and they fully realized the overwhelming danger should
an Indian band, even as small as ten or a dozen warriors, appear.
Should the latter scatter, it would be impossible to protect all
the women and children from their tomahawks.
The day was warm, but the forest gave them coolness as well as
shelter. Henry and Sol were seldom so far back that they could
not see the end of the melancholy line, now moving slowly,
overborne by weariness. The shiftless one shook his head sadly.
"No matter what happens, some uv 'em will never get out o' these
woods."
His words came true all too soon. Before the afternoon closed,
two women, ill before the flight, died of terror and exhaustion,
and were buried in shallow graves under the trees. Before dark a
halt was made at the suggestion of Henry, and all except
Carpenter and the scouts sat in a close, drooping group. Many of
the children cried, though the women had all ceased to weep.
They had some food with them, taken in the hurried flight, and
now the men asked them to eat. Few could do it, and others
insisted on saving what little they had for the children. Long
Jim found a spring near by, and all drank at it.
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