To the schoolmaster Ross breathed the one word "Shawnees," and Henry in a few sentences told Paul what he had seen.
Fortunately the precious salt was packed--they had no intention of deserting it, however close the danger--and it was quickly transferred to the backs of the horses along with the food for the way.

In a little more than a half hour they were all ready and then they fled southward, Shif'less Sol, this time, leading the way, the guide Ross at the rear, eye and ear noticing everything, and every nerve attuned to danger.
The master cast back one regretful glance at his beloved giant bones, and then, with resignation, turned his face permanently toward the south and the line of retreat.
"O Henry," whispered Paul, half in delight, half in terror, "did you really see them ?" "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.