That there would be pursuit Norton knew well enough. He knew also
that if he were caught, he would not be brought back to Louisville
alive; Blacknose, being a person of sufficient wit to make so shrewd
and swift a plot, would have him safely shot in order to preclude all
possible danger. Once past Sullivan's ferry, where the post-road
crossed the Ohio to Vincennes seven miles below Shippingsport, Norton
knew that he would have the wilderness ahead and his own good wits to
rely upon.
More than once he pondered on the subject of Charles Duval. He more
than suspected the lawyer of being at the bottom of the affair at the
tavern, though this seemed hardly possible on sober second thought.
He had seen nothing of Duval in the crowd about the door, but the
memory of how the man had silenced the riot during dinner still
remained with him. Duval had influence, it seemed, and he was also a
prominent citizen.
John Norton was pre-eminently just. He admitted to himself that he
had taken an instant dislike to Duval upon meeting the latter on the
Beargrass Creek Road the day before. The dislike was based on no
solid ground. Duval was the type of man best fitted to capture the
liking of frontiersmen--strong, powerful, unafraid and brainy. None
the less, Norton did not like him. Either, he considered, his errand
had been noised abroad and the river-pirates had tried to eliminate
him that morning, or else Duval had been behind the two attempts on
his life.
"And if I'm to take my choice," he thought, "I'd say it was the
pirates."
None the less, it was with a distinct shock that a moment later he
recognized Charles Duval slowly riding toward him. Norton drew rein,
astounded.
His track had degenerated into a mere forest trail, since he had
struck away from the main pike which Ayres had followed, to throw off
the pursuers. Trees were on every side, and Norton could only
conjecture that he had come some four miles from the town. Yet here
was Duval riding toward him--Duval, whom he had supposed was even
then urging on his pursuers!
With him was walking a man, and Norton eyed the pair keenly enough as
they approached. Duval's horse was warm, but not foam-flecked, and
it was a warm day; the lawyer had been doing no furious riding; so
much was clear. Almost reluctantly, Norton instantly absolved him of
any complicity in the plot at the tavern. The man with him was very
tall and gaunt, dressed in backwoods style, carried a rifle, had a
bushy grizzled beard, a thin, hooked nose and very deep-set dark
eyes. He had not been at the tavern.
The pair sighted Norton almost as he saw them, and stopped for an
instant in evident surprise. He saw Duval say something in a low
voice; then both came forward. To Norton's great surprise, the
lawyer advanced with hand outstretched and a smile upon his face
which seemed sincere enough.
"Sir," exclaimed Duval heartily, "I must ask your pardon for my words
of yesterday. I was somewhat in liquor, and irritated at the moment.
May I have the honour of your name, sir?"
Norton, with no hint of his inward amazement, gripped the other's
proffered hand and looked squarely into Duval's dark eyes. He read
there only a sincere regret, however, and after giving his name
proceeded to compliment the lawyer on his evident prestige among the
rivermen as exemplified at the tavern that noon. Duval's eyes
narrowed a trifle.
"Yes, I saw you go out," he returned, "and left myself shortly after.
As to those flatboat-men, if some one did not overawe them
occasionally they would run the town. By the way, Mr. Norton, meet
Mr. Grigg, one of our old settlers and a solid farmer of the
vicinity."
This designation seemed to draw a grin from Grigg, who stuck up a
huge paw with a muttered "Howdy!" to Norton. The latter found the
backwoodsman's face a mixture of savagery, cunning and boldness; he
wondered idly what Duval had to do with such a man.
"Mr. Grigg and a neighbour are having a land dispute," smiled Duval
smoothly, as if reading the thought of Norton, "but we hope to settle
it out of court. Thinking of buying a farm hereabouts?"
"No, I'm just on a tour," returned Norton easily. "I'm from
Cincinnati, originally."
Which was quite true, but misleading. For one thing, Norton
recollected that the man Grigg must be the father of the strikingly
beautiful girl he had met on the Beargrass Creek Road yesterday;
also, Colonel Boone's description of Grigg did not quite coincide
with that just given by Duval. Remembering what Boone had said
regarding Grigg's parentage of the girl, Norton eyed the man with no
great favour.
Duval, of course, seemed to have no suspicion of what had happened at
the tavern--which happening, indeed, having been too recent for him
to know of it. Norton concluded the lawyer had left the place while
he was absent at the store of Audubon & Rosier, and that after his
leaving, the rivermen had formulated their plot. He wondered vaguely
whether or not the redoubtable Blacknose himself had been present at
dinner.
"Well, I must be going forward," he said. "Can you tell me if this
trail will lead me around toward the river?"
"After a bit," nodded Duval, inspecting Norton's outfit piece by
piece. "It runs past Mr. Grigg's farm, then forks. Take the fork to
the left, which circles around to the river a few miles down. Your
servant, sir!"
He bowed, Norton returning the compliment, and the three separated.
Passing through some marshy cane-brake, the Louisianian presently
came to higher ground, found the trees thinning, and perceived hemp
and tobacco fields to the right. He was thinking of his own
situation, however, and wondering at Duval's change of front. What
had caused the lawyer to take this sudden attitude?
Norton himself was a man who neither explained nor apologised for his
own actions, and knew Duval for the same kind of man. There must be
something behind his abrupt apology and surprising amiability, he
concluded, though he was at a loss to conceive what it might be.
Colonel Taylor had spoken none too warmly of Duval the day before,
else he might have thought that Taylor had mentioned him and his
errand to the lawyer, as he had done to Rosier.
"By thunder!" frowned Norton, gazing at the few negroes at work in
the fields among the scattered stumps and girdled trees. "There's
something almighty strange about this whole affair. Well, I'm out of
it now, and if they can reach me in the woods--let them! I guess
I'll call on the charming Madam Kitty Grigg. Hm! Duval seems to
have been ahead of me there, too. I'm afraid that if I lingered in
Louisville, Mr. Duval and I would get farther than apologies----"
He laughed a little, feeling that if he came to hand-grips with Duval
the result might be dubious, but worth chancing. And so he came to
Grigg's cabin, for farm it was not.
There was no mistaking the place; the girl herself was sitting on the
steps of the log shack, at work sewing. Behind him, Norton saw the
back-ends of the plantations he had passed, whose buildings were
perhaps a mile or more distant. Grigg's cabin was placed amid a
grove of half-dead maple and walnut--girdled but never cleared. Even
as Norton drew rein and dismounted, the girl rising at sight of him,
a sudden thought came into his mind: Duval had said that he was in
liquor the day before. Now Norton had seen enough drunken men to
know that Duval lied in that statement.
Dismissing this thought, however, he advanced to the shack with a
smile. He had no cap and had neglected to buy one in town, and his
brown hair and bronzed face were very good to look upon in the warm
afternoon sunlight.
"This is Madam Kitty Grigg?" he smiled, bowing, "I met your father
and Mr. Duval upon the road, and finding that I had to pass here,
determined to crave the courtesy of a drink of water."
She looked at him steadily for a moment, one hand at her breast.
Once again Norton noted the clear beauty of her grey eyes and
gold-red hair, the character and fresh womanliness of her whole face.
"Sir--you met--my father and Mr. Duval?" she said slowly. Norton
comprehended the alarm in her eyes, and laughed again.
"Aye, that I did, Kitty!" he cried gaily. "And your Mr. Duval did me
the honour of an apology for what happened on the Beargrass Creek
Road yesterday. But pardon--my name is John Norton, at your service
now and always."
She looked into his eyes for a moment longer, then turned and walked
around the corner of the house, beckoning. Norton followed, to find
a spring trickling up beneath a crab-apple tree. Gravely, she dipped
out a gourd of water, held it to him, and he drank.
"Thanks, Kitty!" he sighed. "You have nigh saved my life this
day----"
"Then you had best save it for yourself," she returned quickly, yet
with a laugh in her eyes, "by departing speedily. If Charles Duval
gave you an apology, look to your steps, sir!"
"Eh?" Startled out of his gay mood, Norton looked keenly at her.
"Now what may you mean by that, sweet Kitty?"
The girl, however, only shrugged her shoulders and laughed.
"'Tis easy to see you are from Louisiana, Mr. Norton"--and he
marvelled at the ringing timbre of her voice--"since from you it is
'Kitty' and 'sweet Kitty', while our Kentuckians will ever have it
'Madam Grigg' or mayhap 'Miss Kathleen'."
"Faith, I had it _Kitty_ from Colonel Boone," laughed Norton easily.
"Oh, but he is an old family friend--a second father." Abruptly, the
girl fell serious, and put out an imploring hand to his arm, as she
glanced at the trail. "Pray, Mr. Norton--go at once! You are in
danger, I assure you----"
"Not a bit of it," broke in Norton soberly. "I'm in the woods to get
out of danger, Miss Kitty. Even now, I suspect that horsemen are
searching for me on the Lexington post-road. But I would like to
know what makes you think I am in danger----"
"Because my father allows no one around here"--and the girl drew back
with a slight flush. Norton thought of Duval, but forbore to mention
the obvious. "But--what do you mean? Why are men searching for you?
Are you jesting?"
"Well, it's more or less of a joke," he laughed, seeing her quick
alarm. Plainly, she knew more than did he; whether from Abel Grigg
or not, danger threatened and she was afraid. So, with a light air,
he told her of what had chanced at the tavern.
She listened quietly, her eyes flitting from his face to the trees
and back again. She was stirred out of herself. Norton had never
seen so rare a girl in all his life--clear, incisive, with grey eyes
that could harden into ice or sparkle into star-glints. The brown
homespun fell loosely enough about her slender figure, but Norton's
fancy transformed it into brocade, and he imagined this girl as she
would look were she dressed in the fashion of the New Orleans belles.
"By gad," he thought to himself, reaching the end of his story,
"Boone was right! She is no daughter of Grigg's. What a glorious
girl she is!"
"Evidently, sir, it was a plot against you," she said, her brow
wrinkling deliciously in thought. "But why did you not stay and face
the absurd charge?"
"For many reasons"--and Norton was instantly on guard--"chief of
which was that I have important business down the river. I believe
that I take the left fork from this trail, do I not?"
"If you wish to reach the Tennessee settlements, yes," she returned
drily. "If you want to reach the river, take the right fork, which
brings you out just below the post-road at Sullivan's ferry."
"Eh? You are certain of that?"
"Of course!" There was wonder in the clear grey eyes. "Why?"
"Oh, no reason at all--I must have been hugely mistaken in my notions
of your roads hereabouts," he smiled. "You see, I am going to the
Blue River settlements and am a stranger in this country. Did you
see Colonel Boone this morning?"
Norton was not at all surprised to find that Duval had directed him
to the wrong road. He had half suspected as much, and guessed that
when the lawyer reached town he would set the pursuers going in the
right direction. He was, however, no little astonished when the girl
shook her head in reply to his casual question. Though Boone had not
said it in so many words, he had distinctly understood that the
frontiersman had seen the girl that morning.
"No, Mr. Norton--I was looking for him even now. Was he in town?"
"He came to town with me from Colonel Dick Taylor's this morning,
Kitty--or let us say Kathleen, which is more dignified and has a
right Irish touch to it. I thought he had intended to visit you long
ere this!"
"So had I," she returned, her eyes on the circling trees. "Still, he
will be here before he leaves Kentucky. He was doubtless detained on
business."
Norton nodded, remembering Elisha Ayres. Probably Boone had sought
the little schoolmaster and the latter had detained him. Well, so
much the better; friends were at work, and there seemed to be sore
need of them all.
"When you see him, then, tell him of seeing me here," said the
Louisianian. It would be well to have Boone kept informed. "He is a
very good friend----"
"Wait," the girl broke in quietly, frowning. "What are you going to
do? If the rivermen are after you, as it seems they are, you would
be very foolish to take the river trail----"
"I am a woodsman, sweet Kitty," he laughed easily, "and I am willing
to take my chance against any white man save only Boone--and perhaps
one other. Would that honest Davy Crockett were here with me! He
and I have had many a trail together, but--well, no matter. Trust
me, Kitty; the forest can harm me not."
"But the river can, my confident paladin of Louisiana! Bethink you,
the rivermen can use canoes to get ahead of you, lay an ambush----"
Norton uttered an ejaculation. She was right--he had overlooked the
river. With a sudden anxiety in his brown eyes, he looked at her
gravely, thinking hard. His was no lack of self-reliance, else he
had not been on this present errand. But he was in a strange
country, and the Kentuckians and rivermen were strange to him; above
all, to find himself so swiftly and shrewdly attacked, as he had been
that morning, was disconcerting. He longed for some man at his back,
some man like young Crockett or old Boone, not dreaming what manner
of man Fate was even then leading to his comradeship.
"What think you I had best do, Madam Kathleen?" he asked quietly.
She flushed a little under his serious eyes, but met the look frankly.
"Take the Tennessee trail," she returned slowly. "Since you are a
woodsman, and look it, this will be easy for you. Take the fork to
the left, as you first intended; after a few miles, strike west and
work back north to the river gradually, through the woods. Blue
River is only forty-five miles distant. Do your enemies know your
destination?"
"No--it is known only to Mr. Elisha Ayres, who is my friend and
helper."
"Oh--you know him, then!" The grey eyes widened suddenly, and he was
amazed at their quick friendliness and warmth. "Why, 'twas he who
taught me learning! Well, then, by all means circle around through
the woods to the Blue River, and God preserve you, sir!"
"I doubt not He will," responded Norton gravely.
He knelt beside the spring and dipped the gourd, more as an excuse
for his stay than because he wished a drink. The girl refused the
proffered vessel, and Norton put it to his lips.
As he drank, his eyes fell on the shadow cast by the corner of the
log cabin. A tuft of grass suddenly leaped from shadow to sunshine;
some moving object at the corner of the cabin had caused the change.
Norton was on his feet instantly, and a leap took him to the corner,
hand on knife.
Quick as he was, he found the front of the cabin deserted. His horse
was grazing quietly; there was no flutter of leaves, no swing of
branches, to show that anyone had fled hastily into the trees.
Half-wondering if he had been mistaken, he glanced down at the ground
by the cabin corner, as the alarmed Kathleen joined him.
"Ah!" he cried swiftly, stooping over a faint mark on the ground.
"Get me that rifle from my saddle, Kitty! Here is a gentleman who
wears a patched moccasin--"
"Stop!" The girl caught his arm as he rose, and her face was set in
swift alarm. "It was my father--I told you he did not like to have
strangers around! I patched that moccasin myself--please go, and
quickly!"
"Hm!" Norton looked at her. "Does it occur to you, Kathleen, that
your worthy father may have overheard what we said about my journey?
By the way, are you so certain that he is your father?"
"Why--what mean you?" The colour ebbed from her cheeks as she gazed
at him. "Of course he is my father! Please depart, sir----"
"Nay, I dislike to be hurried." And Norton calmly pulled out his
pipe. He was angry, but it showed only in his narrowed eyes. "Now
our mutual friend, Colonel Boone, seems to have an idea that Abel
Grigg is not your father, sweet Kitty. I confess that the same
thought has come to me, since seeing him. Have you any coals inside?"
She stamped her foot, half in anger and half in dismay.
"Good lack, sir, will you not be gone?"
"Not until you fetch me a coal, at all events."
She looked at him, read determination in his face, and with an
impatient gesture ran to the cabin door and vanished inside. After a
moment she appeared with a brand in her fingers, evidently pulled
from the fire inside. Smiling, he took it and set it to his pipe.
"Ah, that is better! Now, Kitty, as to your birth: Do you know
anything of your mother?"
He fully expected fresh expostulation from her; instead, she nodded
quietly.
"Yes, though I do not conceive your right to question me, sir."
"My right is the interest of a gentleman," he said gravely, and she
flushed. "May I ask who your mother was?"
"I--I do not know her name," stammered the girl, helpless wonder in
her eyes. "Her initials were H.E.M., but my father never speaks of
her."
"You mean, Abel Grigg never speaks of her," corrected Norton. A new
anger flashed into the girl's face.
"Oh, you are insufferable!" she cried bitterly. "I have tried to
help you, and your impertinent curiosity----"
"Nay, Kitty, it is only the interest of a gentleman, as I said
before," smiled Norton, "Still, you are right. My curiosity is
impertinent, it may be, and if you were not the fairest maid I think
I have ever seen, perhaps my interest in you would be less. Frankly,
I expect to return to this vicinity before a great while, and shall
look forward to seeing you again. But tell me, please--how is it
that you know your mother's initials, but not her name?"
She looked at him for a long moment, divided between anger at his
cool insistence and comprehension of the iron will behind his gentle
courtesy. Her hand went to her dress.
"Because of this. It used to be my mother's, father has said----"
She laid a pin in his hand, and Norton stared down at it in rank
incredulity. He turned it over and saw the graven initials on the
back, "H.E.M." Then, reaching inside his buckskin coat, he brought
out its duplicate and laid it beside the other. Both pins were
identical--a small golden eagle, with half-obliterated enamel.
"By thunder!" said Norton very softly, "Kitty, do you know what this
is?"
"No--a pin, that's all," she looked up at him, perplexed. He turned
over his own pin, showing her the twined initials graven there,
"C.N.--E.D."
"This was my only legacy from my father," he continued slowly. "Ask
Colonel Boone to tell you the story. My father was Charles Norton,
my mother Eliza Darby--their initials, you see. But how on earth did
you get yours? It could not have belonged to your mother, unless
your father had given it her. And if Abel Grigg was an officer in
the Revolution--then I'm a liar!"
"But what is it?" she queried, wide-eyed. He came to her side,
pointing to the two little gold eagles, and explained:
"This broken enamel, here, showed Cincinnatus at the plough--the
Roman story, if you remember"--and she nodded to his words. "The
motto was '_Omnia relinquit servare rempublicam_'. Kitty, this eagle
is from the order of the Society of the Cincinnati, composed only of
Revolutionary officers and their eldest male descendants. I am a
member, in virtue of my father's having been one before me--but how
on earth did you get this? Does your father know what it is?"
"No, because I have asked him," she returned, excited interest in her
eyes. "He says it is just a bauble--but please, please go now! He
was here, and I'm afraid that--that----"
"Very well, Kitty." And returning one of the eagles to her, he
replaced the other beneath his leathern shirt. "Say nothing to him
of this, mind. I'll investigate it when I return. Farewell--and
remember, I'll come back sooner or later!"
He raised her hand to his lips, bowing, and turned to his horse. He
scarcely remembered more than that he rode off with a wave of his
hand; his brain was in a wild riot of thought. It was a moral
certainty that Abel Grigg had no right to wear that golden eagle, and
in fact knew nothing about it--where, then, had Kathleen Grigg's
eagle come from?
"'Just a bauble,' eh?" muttered Norton, his lips tightening in anger.
"Friend Grigg, I would be pleased to have you repeat those words to
me! By thunder, you'd learn something about the Revolution in a
confounded hurry!"
And so he rode off into the wilderness, nor looked back to see the
girl gazing after him, hands at her breast.