Page:Edward Ellis--Seth Jones.djvu/40

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HE GAINS THE STREAM.
37

Two Indians maintained their places side by side, and it was evident that the pursuit would soon be left to them. The others were rapidly falling behind, and were already relaxing their exertions. Graham saw the state of things, and it thrilled him with hope. Could he not distance these also? Would they not leave him in such a case? And could he not escape ere he was compelled to give out from exhaustion?

"At my rate I will try, and God help me!" he uttered, prayerfully, shooting ahead with almost superhuman velocity. He glanced back and saw his followers, and they seemed almost standing still, so rapidly did he leave them behind.

But as nature compelled him to again cease the terrific rate at which he was going, he saw his unwearied pursuers again recovering their lost ground. The parties now understood each other. The Indians saw his maneuvers, and avoided the trap, and kept on in the same unremitting relentless speed, fully certain that this would sooner or later compel him to yield; while Graham knew that the only chance of prolonging the contest rested in his dropping into and continuing his ordinary speed.

They now sunk into the same steady and terribly monotonous run. Mile after mile flew beneath them, and still so exact and similar were their relative rates, that they were absolutely stationary with regard to each other! The two Indians now remained alone, and they were untiring—they were determined that they should continue to the end!

At last, Graham saw the friendly timber but a short distance from him. The trees seemed beckoning him to their friendly shelter, and paning and gasping he plunged in among them—plunged right ahead till he stood upon the bank of a large, rapidly-flowing stream.

When the Anglo-Saxon's body is pitted against that of the North American Indian, it sometimes yields; but when his mind takes the pace of contestant, it never loses.

Graham gazed hurriedly around him, and in the space of a dozen seconds his faculties had wrought enough for a lifetime—wrought enough to save him.

Throwing his rfle aside, he waded carefully into the stream until he stood wast deep. Then sinking upon his face, he swam rapidly upward until he had gone a hundred yards.