They stopped in a clump of cane and watched a single warrior pass near. When he was gone they stepped from the cane and began to run at high speed toward the opening in the circle which Henry judged could not be more than a hundred yards away. It was fortunate for them that the forest here contained little undergrowth to impede them. It was a great burst of speed to make after so long a flight, but the brief rest had helped them greatly, and they spurned the earth behind them. Now the Indian warriors caught sight of them, and rifles flashed in the night. The last owl ceased to hoot, and instead gave forth the war hoop. The forest rang with fierce yells, many anticipating a triumph not yet won. Many shots were fired on either flank, and leaves and twigs fell, but the five, bending low, fled on and did not yet reply. The young leader in those desperate moments was cool enough to see that no shots came from the point straight ahead, making it sure that the opening was still there. He counted, too, on the dusk and the generally poor markmanship of the savages. A single glance backward showed him that none of his comrades was touched. Farther away on either side he saw the leaping forms of the warriors and then the flash of their wild shots. And still his comrades and he were untouched. "Now, boys," he cried, "let out the last link in the chain!" and the five bounded forward at such speed that the Indians in the dusk could not hit the flying targets, and, still untouched they drove through the opening, and beyond. But the warriors behind them joined in a mass and came on, yelling in anger and disappointment. "Now, Sol," said Henry, "we might let 'em have a couple of bullets. The rest of you hold your fire!" Henry and the shiftless one, wheeling swiftly, fired and hit their targets. A cry of wrath came from the pursuers, but they dropped back out of range, and stayed there awhile. Then they crept closer, until a bullet from Silent Tom gave them a deadly warning to drop back again, which they did with great promptness. Then the five, summoning all their reserves of strength, sped southward at a rate that was too great for their pursuers. Paul soon heard the owls calling again, but they were at least a half mile behind them, and they no longer oppressed him with that quality of cruelty and certain triumph. Now they only denoted failure and disappointment, and, as his high tension relaxed, he began to laugh. "Stop it, Paul! Stop it!" said the shiftless one sharply. "It's too soon yet to laugh! When the time comes I'll tell you!"