Henry whirled suddenly about and raised his rifle. The king wolf, as if divining his purpose, sheered to one side, but he was confronting the deadliest marksman in the woods. The muzzle of Henry's rifle followed him, and when he pulled the trigger the bullet crashed through the great beast's skull. When the king wolf fell dead the others stopped, stricken with terror, but from a point to the east came the long thrilling note of the war whoop. The warriors had heard the shot, and, knowing they would come swiftly to its sound, Henry and the shiftless one, turning due west, ran with amazing speed through the forest. CHAPTER VII THE FOREST POETS Henry and the shiftless one knew that they had drawn danger upon themselves, but they had nothing to regret. The pursuit by the wolves had become intolerable. In time it was bound to unsettle their nerves, and it was better to take the risk from the warriors. "How far away would you say that war whoop was?" asked Henry. "'Bout a quarter o' a mile but it'll take 'em some little time to find our trail. An' ef you an' me, Henry, can't leave 'em, ez ef they wuz standin', then we ain't what we used to be." Presently they heard the war cry a second time, although its note was fainter. "Hit our trail!" said the shiftless one. "But they can never overtake us in the night," said Henry. "We've come to stony ground now, and the best trailers in the world couldn't follow you and me over it." "No," said the shiftless one, with some pride in his voice. "We're not to be took that way, but that band an' mebbe more are in atween us an' our fine house in the cliff, an' we won't get to crawl in our little beds tonight. It ain't to be risked, Henry." "That's so. We seem to be driven in a circle around the place to which we want to go, but we can afford to wait as well as the Indian army can, and better. Here's another branch and we'd better use it to throw that band off the trail." They waded in the pebbly bed of the brook for a long distance. Then they walked on stones, leaping lightly from one to another, and, when they came to the forest, thick with grapevines they would often swing from vine to vine over long spaces. Both found an odd pleasure in their flight. They were matching the Indian at his tricks, and when pushed they could do even better. They knew that the trail was broken beyond the hope of recovery, and, late in the night, after passing through hilly country, they sat down to rest.