"Do you think we ought to try the signal for the others now, Sol?" he asked.

"Not now. I'm sh.o.r.e that they're too fur off to hear. Ef the Injuns heard us signalin' so much they'd come down on us hot-foot."

"Just what I was thinking," said Henry. "Suppose we push on a few miles, wait a while and then send out the cry."

"Good enough," said the shiftless one.

They advanced three or four miles and then stopped in a dense cl.u.s.ter of hickory saplings, where they waited. Within the thicket they could see to some distance on either side, while they themselves lay hidden. Here they talked now and then in low voices, and Shif'less Sol, although he did not speak of his feelings, was very happy. He had believed all the time that Henry would escape, but believing is not as good as knowing.

"You sh.o.r.ely had a pow'ful interestin' time in the Wyandot village, Henry," he said, "an' that chief, White Lightning--I've heard o' him afore--'pears to hev been good to you. What did you say his Injun name wuz?"

"Timmendiquas. That means Lightning in Wyandot, and our people have tacked on the word 'white.' He's a great man, Sol, and I think we're going to meet him again."

"Looks likely. I don't blame him for puttin' up sech a pow'ful good fight fur the huntin' grounds, 'though they look to me big enough for all creation. Do you know, Henry, I hev sometimes a kind o' feelin' fur the Injuns. They hev got lots o' good qualities. Besides, ef they're ever wiped out, things will lose a heap o' variety. Life won't be what it is now. People will know that thar scalps will be whar they belong, right on top o' thar heads, but things will be tame all the time. O'

course, it's bad to git into danger, but thar ain't nothin' so joyous ez the feelin' you hev when you git out o' it."

The night advanced, very clear and pleasantly cool. They had heard occasional rustlings in the thicket, which they knew were made by the smaller wild animals, taking a look, perhaps, at those curious guests of theirs and then scuttling away in fright. Now absolute stillness had come. There was no wind. Not a twig moved. It seemed that in this silence one could hear a leaf if it fell.

Then Henry sent forth the cry, the long, whining hoot of the owl, perfectly imitated, a sound that carries very far in the quiet night.

After waiting a moment or two he repeated it, the second cry being exactly the same in tone and length as the first.

"Now you listen," said Shif'less Sol.

There was another half minute of the absolute silence, and then, from a point far down under the southeastern horizon came an answering cry. It was remote and low, but they heard it distinctly, and they waited eagerly to see if it would be repeated. It came a second time, and then a third. Henry answered twice, and then the other came thrice. Call and answer were complete, and no doubt remained.

"I judge that it's Saplin' who answered," ruminated Shif'less Sol. "He always did hev a hoot that's ez long ez he is, an' them wuz sh.o.r.ely long."

"I think, too, that it was Long Jim," said Henry, "and he'll come straight for us. In five minutes I'll send out the cry again, and maybe another will answer."

When Henry gave the second call the answer came from a point almost due east.

"That's Tom," said the shiftless one decisively. "Couldn't mistake it.

Didn't that owl hoot sharp and short fur an owl? Jest like Tom Ross.

Don't waste any words that he kin help, an' makes them that he has to use ez short ez he kin."

Another five minutes, and Henry gave the third call. The answer came from the southwest, and the shiftless one announced instantly that it was Paul.

"O' course we know it's Paul," he said, "'cause we know that his owl is the poorest owl among the whole lot o' us, an' I've spent a lot o' time, too, trainin' his hoot. No Injun would ever take Paul's owl to be a real one."

Henry laughed.

"Paul isn't as good in the woods as we are," he said, "but he knows a lot of other things that we don't."

"O' course," said Shif'less Sol, who was very fond of Paul. "It's sh.o.r.ely a treat to set by the camp fire an' hear him tell about A-Killus, an' Homer, an' Virgil, an' Charley-mane, and all the other fierce old Roman warriors that had sech funny names."

"They'll be here in less than half an hour," said Henry. "So we'd better leave the thicket, and sit out there under the big trees where they can see us."

They took comfortable seats on a fallen log under some giant maples, and presently three figures, emerging from various points, became palpable in the dusk. "Tom," murmured Henry under his breath, "and Jim--and Paul."

The three uttered low cries of joy when they saw the second figure sitting on the log beside that of Shif'less Sol. Then they ran forward, grasped his hands, and wrung them.

"How did you escape, Henry?" exclaimed Paul, his face glowing.

"Shucks! he didn't escape," said Shif'less Sol, calmly. "Henry owes everything that he is now, includin' o' his life, to me. I wuz scoutin'

up by the Wyandot village, an' I captured in the thickets that thar chief they call White Lightnin'--Timmendiquas he told me wuz his high-toned Injun name. I took him with my hands, not wishin' to hurt him 'cause I had somethin' in mind. Then I said to him: 'Look at me,' an'

when he looked he began to tremble so bad that the beads on his moccasins played ez fine a tune ez I ever heard. 'Is your name Hyde?'

said he. 'It is,' said I. 'Solomon Hyde?' said he. 'Yes,' said I. 'The one they call Shif'less Sol?' said he. 'Yes,' said I. 'Then,' said he, 'O great white warrior, I surrender the whole Wyandot village to you at once.'

"I told him I didn't want the whole Wyandot village ez I wouldn't know what to do with it ef I had it. But I said to him, puttin' on my skeriest manner: 'You've got in your village a prisoner, a white boy named Henry Ware, a feller that I kinder like. Now you go in that an'

send him out to me, an' be mighty quick about it, 'cause ef you don't I might git mad, an' then I can't tell myself what's goin' to happen.'

"An' do you know, Saplin'," he continued, turning a solemn face upon Jim Hart, "that they turned Henry over to me out thar in the woods inside o'

three minutes. An' ef I do say it myself, they got off pow'ful cheap at the price, an' I'm not runnin' down Henry, either."

Long Jim Hart, a most matter-of-fact man, stared at the shiftless one.

"Do you know, Sol Hyde," he said indignantly, "that I believe more'n half the things you're tellin' are lies!"

Shif'less Sol burst into a laugh.

"I never tell lies, Saplin'," he said. "It's only my gorgeeyus fancy playin' aroun' the facts an' touchin' 'em up with gold an' silver lights. A hoe cake is nothin' but a hoe cake to Saplin' thar, but to me it's somethin' splendid to look at an' to eat, the support o' life, the creater o' muscle an' strength an' spirit, a beautiful thing that builds up gran' specimens o' men like me, somethin' that's wrapped up in poetry."

"Ef you could just live up to the way you talk, Sol Hyde," said Long Jim, "you'd sh.o.r.ely be a pow'ful big man."

"Maybe Indians have heard our calls," said Henry, "and if so, they'll come to look into the cause of them. Suppose we go on four or five miles and then sleep, all except one, who will watch."

"The right thing to do," said Tom Ross briefly, and they proceeded at once, Tom leading the way, while Henry and Paul, who followed close behind, talked in low voices.

A long, lonesome sound came from the north, and then was repeated three or four times. Henry laughed.

"That's real," he said. "I'd wager anything that if we followed that sound we'd find a big owl, sitting on a limb, and calling to some friend of his."

"You ain't mistook," said Tom Ross sententiously.

As they walked very fast, it did not take them long to cover the four or five miles that they wished, and they found a comfortable, well-hidden place in a ravine. The darkness also had increased considerably, which was good for their purpose, as they were hunting for n.o.body, and wished n.o.body to find them.

All save Tom Ross lay down among the bushes and quickly fell asleep. Tom found an easy seat and watched.

CHAPTER X

THE GREAT BORDERER

Tom Ross watched until about an hour after midnight, when he awoke Henry, who would keep guard until day.