In so brief a space be had recreated himself.
Resuming his flight, he went at a steady pace, resolved not to do
his utmost unless the enemy came in sight. About ten minutes
later he heard a cry far behind him, and he believed it to be a
signal from some Indian to the others that the trail was found
again. But with so much advantage he felt sure that he was now
quite safe. He ran, although at decreased speed, for about two
hours more, and then he sat down on the upthrust root of a great
oak. Here he depended most upon his ears. The forest was so
silent that he could hear any noise at a great distance, but
there was none. Trusting to his ears to warn him, he would
remain there a long time for a thorough rest. He even dared to
take off his snowshoes that he might rub his sore ankles, but he
wrapped his heavy blanket about his body, lest he take deep cold
in cooling off in such a temperature after so long a flight.
He sat enjoying a half hour, golden like the five minutes, and
then he saw, outlined against the bright, moonlit sky, something
that told him he must be on the alert again. It was a single
ring of smoke, like that from a cigar, only far greater.
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