Читать книгу Trail and Trading Post; or, The Young Hunters of the Ohio онлайн

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Meanwhile Dave and Henry remained hidden in the bushes, close to the water’s edge. They caught an occasional flash from the torch, but otherwise saw nothing of their enemies. The cooling water seemed to soothe Henry’s ankle greatly, for which the young hunter was grateful.

“Let us go on a little further,” whispered Henry, after a short rest, and while the Indians were out of sight and hearing. “The further we get away, the better.”

Dave was more than willing, and they moved through the shallow water until they reached a bend in the river. Then both gave a cry of satisfaction:

“The canoe!”

“It must have drifted to this spot,” said Dave. “See, the paddles are just as I left them. But I thought the canoe was fast.”

“Get in and be quick about it,” returned his cousin.

They entered the craft and shoved out into the stream. The rain had ceased, but the mist was so thick they could scarcely see two yards in any direction. Catching up the paddles, they guided the canoe down the watercourse as best they could. At first they caught a faint glimpse of the Indians’ torch, but this was quickly swallowed up by the mist and darkness.