Chapter XX. The Terrible Ford

"The ford ain't much more than an hour's march farther on," said Dick Salter to Daniel Poe, "an' the way to it leads over purty smooth groun'."

"And we have not seen anything of the warriors yet, except the trails of small bands," said Daniel Poe hopefully. "It may be that our new friends are mistaken."

Dick Salter shook his head.

"Tom Ross never makes a mistake in matters uv that kind," he said, "an' that boy, Henry Ware, couldn't ef he tried. He's wonderful, Mr. Poe."

"Yes," said Daniel Poe. "Nobody else ever made such an impression upon me. And the one they call Paul is a fine fellow, too. I wish I had a son like that."

"He's the most popular fellow in the train already," said Dick Salter.

Both looked admiringly at Paul, who was walking near the head of the line, a group of lithe, strong-limbed boys and girls surrounding him and begging him for stories of the wilderness. Paul remained with the train by arrangement. It was his business to cheer, invigorate, and hearten for a great task, while his comrades roamed the forest and looked for the danger that they knew would surely come. Never did youth succeed better at his chosen task, as confidence spread from him like a contagion.

Paul presently quickened his steps, and came quite to the head of the line, where Daniel Poe and Dick Salter were walking, both circling the forest ahead of them with anxious eyes. They and Paul at the same time saw a figure emerge from the woods in front. It was Henry, and he was coming on swift foot. In an instant he was before them, and Paul knew by his look that he had news.

"They are waiting?" said Paul.

"Yes," replied Henry. "They are in the thickets at the ford, less than two miles ahead."

Daniel Poe shuddered again--for the five hundred lives in his charge--and then his heart rose. The waiting, the terrible suspense, were over, and it was battle now. The fact contained relief.

"Shall we halt?" he said to Henry. Unconsciously, he, too, was submitting to the generalship of this king of forest runners.

"No," replied Henry; "we've got to go on some time or other, and they can wait as long as we can. We must force the passage of the ford. We can do it."

He spoke with confidence, and courage seemed to leap like sparks from him and set fire to the others.

"Then it's go ahead," said Daniel Poe grimly. "We'll force the passage."

"Put all the little children, and all the women who don't fight, in the wagons, and make them lie down," said Henry. "The men must swarm on either flank. My comrades will remain in the front, watching until we reach the river."

Then a great bustle and the chatter of many voices arose;