They now heard the baying of the dogs distinctly, a long wailing cry like the howling of hounds. The note of it was most ominous to Paul's sensitive mind. In the mythology that he had read, dogs played a great role, nearly always as the enemy of man. There were Cerberus and the others, and flitting visions of them passed through his mind now. He was aware, too, that the reality was not greatly inferior to his fancies. The dogs could follow them anywhere, and the accidental picking-up of their trail might destroy them all. The five went on in silence, so far as they were concerned, for a long time, but the baying behind them never ceased. It also grew louder, and Henry, glancing hastily back, expected that the dogs would soon come into sight. "Judging from their barking, the Wyandots must love dogs of uncommon size and fierceness," he said. "'Pears likely to me," said Shif'less Sol. "We're good runners, all five o' us. We've shaken the warriors off, but not the dogs." "It's just as you say," said Henry. "We can't run on forever, so we must shoot the trailers--that is--the dogs. Listen to them. They are not more than a couple of hundred yards away now." They crossed a little open space, leaped a brook and then entered the woods again. But at a signal from Henry, they stopped a few yards further on. "Now, boys," he said, "be ready with your rifles. We must stop these dogs. How many do you think they are, Tom?" "'Bout four, I reckon." "Then the moment they come into the open space, Tom, you and Paul and Jim shoot at those on the left, and Sol and I will take the right." The Indian dogs sprang into the open space and five rifles cracked together. Three of them--they were four in number, as Tom had said--were killed instantly, but the fourth sprang aside into the bushes, where he remained. The five at once reloaded their rifles as they ran. Now they increased their speed, hoping to shake off their pursuers. Behind them rose a long, fierce howl, like a note of grief and revenge. "That's the dog we did not kill," said Paul, "and he's going to hang on." "I've heard tell," said Tom Ross, "that 'cordin' to the Indian belief, the souls o' dead warriors sometimes get into dogs an' other animals, an' it ain't fur me to say that it ain't true. Mebbe it's really a dead Injun, 'stead o' a live dog that's leadin' the warriors on." Paul shuddered. Tom's weird theory chimed in with his own feelings. The fourth dog, the one that had hid from the bullets, was a phantom, leading the savages on to vengeance for his dead comrades. Now and then he still bayed as he kept the trail, but the fleeing five sought in vain to make him a target for their bullets. Seemingly, he had profited by the death of his comrades, as his body never showed once among the foliage. Search as they would with the sharpest of eyes, none of the five could catch the faintest glimpse of him.