No noise, Paul!" They stole forward, one close behind the other, going but slowly, seeking with sedulous care to avoid any noise that would bring the savages upon them.

The rain, which had grown steadier, was a Godsend.

It and the wind together kept up a low, moaning sound that hid the faint pressure of Paul's footsteps.

The cry behind them at the cabin was repeated once, echoing away through the black and dripping forest.

After that Paul heard nothing, but to the keener ears of Henry came now and then the soft, sliding sound of rapid footsteps, a word or two uttered low, and the faint swish of bushes, swinging back into place after a body passed.