"We can soon dodge 'em thar in the dark," he said.
"We don't want to dodge 'em," said Henry.
The shiftless one was surprised, but when he glanced at Henry's
face he understood.
"You want to lead 'em on an' to a fight?" he said.
Henry nodded.
"Glad you thought uv it," said Shif'less Sol.
They crossed the very corn field through which they had come,
Braxton Wyatt and his band in full cry after them. Several shots
were fired, but the three kept too far ahead for any sort of
marksmanship, and they were not touched. When they finally
entered the woods they curved a little, and then, keeping just
far enough ahead to be within sight, but not close enough for the
bullets, Henry led them straight toward the camp of the riflemen.
As he approached, he fired his own rifle, and uttered the long
shout of the forest runner. He shouted a second time, and now
Shif'less Sol and Tom Ross joined in the chorus, their great cry
penetrating far through the woods.
Whether Braxton Wyatt or any of his mixed band of Indians and
Tories suspected the meaning of those great shouts Henry never
knew, but the pursuit came on with undiminished speed. There was
a good silver moon now, shedding much light, and he saw Wyatt
still in the van, with his Tory lieutenant close behind, and
after them red men and white, spreading out like a fan to inclose
the fugitives in a trap.
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