He put down the thought resolutely, and began to run through the forest parallel with the river.

If it were only the firm hard ground of the North he could hide his trail from the man behind him, but here the soil was so soft that every footstep left a deep mark.
Yet he might find fallen trees thrown down by hurricanes, and in a few minutes he came to a mass of them.

He ran deftly from trunk to trunk, and then continued his flight among the bushes.

It broke his trail less than a rod, but it might take his pursuer ten minutes to recover it, and now ten minutes were precious.
The soil grew harder and he made better speed, but when he looked through the foliage he saw the canoe still opposite him.

It was easy for them, on the smooth surface of the river, to keep pace with him, if such was their object.