Boone looked grave, Ruby turned a shade paler, and Kenton smiled grimly.
“Ye see, cunnel,” said the scout, “I’ve b’en suspicioning them cusses
mout be arter us all the while, and I’ve b’en kinder on the watch to
the rear. Thar’s a party of the imps arter the little gal, and they’ve
got good trackers. Guess they’ve b’en huntin’ up and down stream arter
her trail, and got to the island at last. Ef they have, they know the
hull thing now, and they’re comin’ arter us hellaty-clip. ’Tain’t so
middlin’ difficult to pick up our trail, ye know, and what with them
behind, and them in front, we’ll hev a right smart chance of trouble to
flax ’em all, and git into the fort to-night.”
“That shot was not three miles off,” said Ruby, suddenly. “What do you
think it was, Mr. Kenton?”
“That? Oh, that was a signal from the cuss as found our trail,” said
Kenton, carelessly. “It’s middlin’ likely thur spread out all over the
woods huntin’ your trail, Miss; and that shot ’ll call ’em in.”
“I thought so,” said the girl, quietly. “Well, then, gentlemen, why
shouldn’t we cross the trail of the party ahead, make a circuit, and
come into the town on the other side? They won’t watch that so closely.”
Boone, who had been leaning thoughtfully on his rifle all this time,
now raised his head.
“Little gal,” he said, gravely, “it’s our only chance. But are you able
to take the tramp? ’Twill be a tough one.”
“I am a chief’s daughter,” said the girl, proudly. “Try me, and see.”
Kenton was about to speak, when Boone checked him with a wave of his
hand.
“Left wheel,” he said, in military fashion, “and follow your leader.”
As he spoke he threw his rifle to his shoulder, and started off at a
slow trot of some seven miles an hour into the depths of the woods,
followed, without a word, by the others at long intervals. Kenton
remained behind to bring up the rear, and away they went into the
woods. In a few minutes they crossed the trail of which Boone had
spoken, and Kenton stopped to examine it carefully. As the elder hunter
had said, it led straight to Harrodsburg, and they crossed it at
right-angles, plunging deep into the woods toward the south, where, at
least, they were certain the country was comparatively free of enemies.
For at least half an hour they continued their course to the south,
and then Boone turned again, sharp to the west, and proceeded in
the direction of Harrodsburg without more ado. Kenton remained at
least a quarter of a mile nearer the march of their suspected foes,
and chuckled with satisfaction as he came across several bear and
deer-tracks.
The tracks were recent and very regular, unanswerable evidence to the
keen hunter that the animals had been undisturbed that morning.
When Boone turned, Ruby and Kenton turned likewise, so that the former
Indian file became, once more, a skirmish-line of three people,
stretching over a space a quarter of a mile wide.
Again they glided cautiously but swiftly along, on the way to
Harrodsburg, the post of honor, nearest the foe, belonging to Kenton.
The sun was long past the meridian, and sunk rapidly as they pressed
along, till at last his level rays pierced through the covert of the
forest, and announced that the king of day was about to take his
departure.
By that time they judged that they must be nearly abreast of
Harrodsburg, but, so still was the forest, that they could not tell its
position with any certainty.
This very stillness, however, supplied them with one piece of
information which they needed.
It told them they were nearing their enemies.
The birds had ceased to sing, and not a living creature of the usual
denizens of the forest made its appearance on their right flank.
They knew that the Indians must be there.
Just as the sun set, they heard the reports of several rifles, a little
way off on their right front, and Kenton, immediately after, sheered
off to the left, and came near to Ruby and Boone.
The three, as if by a common impulse, turned their course once more to
the south, and had the satisfaction of hearing a brisk fire of rifles
beginning, which revealed to them the only thing they wanted to know,
the position of the fort of Harrodsburg.
As they went on and the shots became more distant, Kenton and Boone
closed in on Ruby, so that all three were within whispering distance,
and Kenton panted out:
“Thur havin’ a little muss thar, cunnel. Bully for us!”
Boone made no answer, but kept on his course till they had left the
sounds of conflict far to the rear, when he turned sharp to the north,
motioning the rest to keep behind him.
Now at last the twilight began to fade.
As the twilight faded, the sounds of conflict grew less and less
frequent. Only an occasional rifle-shot rung out at intervals; but
every one came closer and closer as they advanced.
At last it was dark.
Then the veteran borderer stopped and allowed his two companions to
come up alongside of him, when a short whispered conversation took
place.
So cautious were all of being overheard that they were obliged to put
their lips to each other’s ears to tell and hear, and the sharpest
scout might have lain twenty feet off without hearing a sound.
“We are close to the imps,” said Boone; “and the fort gate lies right
in front of us. We must keep close together now.”
“Do you think they know we are around?” said Ruby.
“The Indians must,” said the borderer. “The only trouble is that the
people inside don’t.”
“Ef they’ll fire a few more shots,” said Kenton, “I’ll be bound to go
through safe.”
“They won’t do it,” whispered Boone, in answer.
Hardly had he spoken, when, as if to give the lie to his words, the
flash of a rifle came from the black woods toward the fort, not a
hundred yards off.
It was immediately answered by a line of flashes some distance further
on, and the crackling reports of the rifles were followed by the
spiteful _plug, plug, plug_, of several bullets slapping into the
ground and tree-trunks round them, in very unpleasant proximity.
“That feller war some young brave on his fust war-path, cunnel,”
whispered Kenton, delightedly, “Ef I don’t flax him, call me a skunk.”
“Now we know where the fort is, thanks to him,” was the answer. “There
must be a big crowd, Simon, when they let the youngsters stand picket.”
“I’m goin’ to fotch that feller’s skulp, by the holy poker,” muttered
Kenton. “Ef so be he’s alone thar, we kin creep through the gap.”
“Be careful, Simon,” replied Boone, cautiously. “Remember we’re not
alone, and the lady can’t run like we can.”
“All right, cunnel,” said the borderer; and as he spoke he glided away
on his belly like a snake toward the point from whence the flash had
proceeded.
It needed very small indications to point out to these astute
frontiersmen the position of affairs round them. As well as if he
had been at the side of the Indian chief, Kenton knew that a circle
of savages was lying round the fort, some near, some far, according
to the cover. He felt certain that the Shawnees on Ruby’s trail had
arrived long before and that the Indian besiegers were watching for his
arrival. Their dead silence argued that.
The warrior who had just fired was probably young, and ambitious of
slaying a “Big-Knife.” What he had seen to fire at was uncertain, but
Kenton knew that some cunning old hand would very soon be down upon his
post to scold him for his carelessness.
It was therefore with senses morbidly alive to external objects that
the borderer crept noiselessly toward the foe.
He took care to feel every place with his hand before he dared to trust
his weight upon it, and in this way it was fully twenty minutes ere he
had traversed the hundred yards that separated him from the Indian line.
At last he judged himself there, and then he lay quite still and
listened intently.
Presently, just as he had anticipated, there was a faint rustle of dry
grass on his right, as if some one were coming cautiously toward him.
He turned his head sharply and caught the outline of a figure on all
fours not twenty feet off, by the bole of a tree.
The figure was stationary, and presently the low hoot of an owl
resounded from it. The hoot was answered from the right and left, and
the borderer found that he was in the very midst of his foes.
The creeping Indian moved on a little, and a second figure rose to meet
it, about ten feet in front of Kenton.
It was the figure of the imprudent youngster.