With every cautious, fox-like step, he expected the shout
of alarm to go up from behind, and with that shout he knew restraint
would fail him; he would throw discretion to the winds and bolt
like a frightened rabbit, and the dogs would be at his heels.
He was nearing the trees when he heard some one running in the road,
now a hundred yards behind him. Stooping still lower, he increased
his speed almost to a run. The sound of footsteps ceased abruptly;
the runner had come to a sudden halt. Thane reached the thicket
in another stride or two and paused for a few seconds to listen. A
quick little thrill of relief shot through him. No one was coming
along behind him. The runner, whoever he was, had not seen him; no
cry went up, no loud yell of "There he goes!"
Picking his way carefully down the slope he came to the trail of
the Indians, over which he had trudged recently on his trip to the
great rock. He could tell by the feel of the earth under his feet
that he was on the hard, beaten path by the river's edge. Now he
went forward more rapidly, more confidently. There were times when
he had to cross little moon-streaked openings among the trees, and
at such times he stooped almost to a creeping position.
Occasionally he paused in his flight to listen for sounds of pursuit.
Once his heart seemed to stop beating. He was sure that he heard
footsteps back on the trail behind him.
Pages:
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341