"Yes," replied Henry, "twenty or more of 'em, and an ugly lot they were, too, I can tell you, Paul. I believe we could whip 'em in a stand-up fight, though they are three to our one, but they know more of these woods than we do and then there's the salt; we've got to save what we've come for." He sighed a little. He did not wholly like the idea of running away, even from a foe thrice as strong. Yet he could not question the wisdom of Ross and Shif'less Sol, and he made no protest. The men looked after the heavily laden horses--nobody could ride except as a last resort--and southward they went in Indian file as they had come. Henry glanced around him and saw nothing that promised danger. It was only another beautiful afternoon in early spring. The forest glowed in the tender green of the young buds, and, above them arched the sky a brilliant sheet of unbroken blue. Never did a world look more attractive, more harmless, and it seemed incredible that these woods should contain men who were thirsting for the lives of other men. But he had seen; he knew; he could not forget that hideous circle of painted faces in the glade, upon which he and Ross had looked from the safe covert of the undergrowth. "Do you think they'll follow us, Henry?" asked Paul. "I don't know," replied Henry, "but it's mighty likely. They'll hang on our trail for a long time anyway." "And if they overtake us, there'll be a fight?" "Of course." Henry, watching Paul keenly, saw him grow pale. But his lips did not tremble and that passing pallor failed to lower Paul in Henry's esteem. The bigger and stronger boy knew his comrade's courage and tenacity, and he respected him all the more for it, because he was perhaps less fitted than some others for the wild and dangerous life of the border. After these few words they sank again into silence, and to Paul and the master the sun grew very hot. It was poised now at a convenient angle in the heavens, and poured sheaves of fiery rays directly upon them. Mr. Pennypacker began to gasp. He was a man of dignity, a teacher of youth, and it did not become him to run so fast from something that he could not see. Ross's keen eye fell upon him. "I think you'd better mount one of the horses," he said; "the big bay there can carry his salt and you too for a while until you are rested." "What! I ride, when everybody else is afoot!" exclaimed Mr. Pennypacker, indignantly. "You're the only schoolmaster we have and we can't afford to lose you," said Ross without the suspicion of a grin. Mr. Pennypacker looked at him, but he could not detect any change of countenance. "Hop up," continued Ross, "it ain't any time to be bashful. Others of us may have to do it afore long."