# Seth Jones/Chapter 6
### CHAPTER VI. A RUN FOR LIFE.

When the sad event just chronicled took place, and Seth made a rather unceremonious entrance into view of the savages, Graham felt that he too was in peril, and his life depended upon his own exertions. To have offered resistance would have been madness, as there were full thirty Indians at hand. Flight was the only resource left, and without waiting to see the fate of Seth, our hero made a bound down the embankment, alighting at the bottom, and struck directly across the plain, toward the timber that lined the river. He had gained several hundred yards, when several prolonged yells told him that he was discovered, and was a flying fugitive. Casting his eye behind him, he saw five or six Indians already down the embankment and in full chase.
And now commenced a race of life and death. Graham was as fleet of foot as a deer, and was well-trained and disciplined; but his pursuers numbered five of the swiftest runners of the Mohawk nation, and he feared he had at last found his match. Yet he was as skillful and cunning as he was sinewy and fleet of foot. The plain over which he was speeding was perfectly bare and naked for six or eight miles before him, while it stretched twice that distance on either hand, before the slightest refuge was offered. Thus, it will be seen, he took the only course which offered hope—a dead run for it, where the pursuer and pursued possessed equal advantages.
He was pretty certain that his pursuers possessed greater endurance than himself, and that in a long run he stood small chance of escape, while in a short race he believed he could distance any living Indian. So he determined to try the speed of his enemies.
As he heard their yells, he bounded forward almost at the top of his speed. The pursuers, however, maintained the same regular and rapid motion. Graham continued his ​exertions for all out half a mile, making such use of his arms and limbs as to give the impression that he was doing his utmost. Toward the latter part of the first mile, his speed began to slacken, and his dangling limbs and furtive glances behind him, would have convinced any one that he was nigh exhausted.
But this was only a stratagem, and it succeeded as well aa he could have wished. The Indians believed that he had committed a common and fatal error—that of calling into play the utmost strength and speed of which he was master at the outset, and that he was now wearied out, while they themselves were just warming into the glow of the chase. Seeing this, each sent up a shout of exultation, and darted ahead at the top of his speed, each endeavoring to reach and tomahawk him before his companion.
But their surprise was unbounded when they saw the fugitive shoot ahead with the velocity of a race-horse, while his veins, too, were only filling with the hot blood of exertion. They saw this and they saw, too, that should such speed continue long, he would be far beyond their reach, and all now ran as they never ran before.
We say Graham's stratagem succeeded. It did, and it gave him the knowledge he wished. It showed him that he had met his match! His pursuers, at least one or two of them, were nearly as fleet as was he; and, although he might distance them for a time, yet ere half the race was finished he would inevitably lose the vantage ground!
Could one have stood aud gazed upon this race of life, he would have seen a thrilling scene. Far ahead, over a vast plain, a fugitive white man was flying, and his swift steady gait showed that his limbs were well-trained and were now put to their severest test. As his feet doubled with such quickness beneath him as to be almost invisible, the ground glided like a panorama from under them.
Behind were a half-dozen savages, their gleaming visages distorted with the passions of exultation, vengeance, and doubt, their garments flying in the wind, and their strength pressed to its utmost bounds. They were scattered at different distances from each other, and were spreading over the prairie, so as to cut off the fugitive's escape in every direction.
​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. ​Here he struck vigorously out into the channel, swimming up stream as well as across it, so as not to reach the bank at a lower point. The current was very swift, and required an exhausting outlay of his already fainting frame before he reached the opposite shore. Here he immediately sprang upon the shore, ran quickly a short distance down the stream, making his trail as plain as possible; and then springing into the stream, swam rapidly upward, remaining as close to the shore as possible, so as to avoid the resisting current. The reason of these singular movements will soon be plain.
The shore was lined by thickly overhanging lushes, and after swimming until he supposed it time for his pursuers to come up, he glided beneath their friendly shelter, and awaited for the further development of things. Almost immediately after, both appeared upon the opposite bank, but at a point considerably lower down. Without hesitation, they sprang into the stream and swam across. As they landed, they commenced a search, and a yell announced the discovery of the trail. Instantly after, another yell proclaimed their disappointment, as they lost it in the river.
The savages supposed that the fugitive had again taken to the water, and had either drowned or reached the other side. At any rate, they had lost what they considered a certain prey, and with feelings of baffled malignity they sullenly swam back again, searched the other side an hour or so and then took their way back to their companions.