Sitting on a big tobacco hogshead and watching the Indiana shore,
with Audubon standing gloomily at his side, Norton felt his bandaged
head tenderly and considered what was to be done.
"I saved the canoe from going under," said Audubon, "then rescued the
rifles. I could give you no help until I saw your head come up. By
the way, this was in the canoe."
He held out a powder-horn--mottled, with a streak of red running
through it. Norton stared down at it, then with a grim laugh reached
into the coat which hung in the sun with his other clothes, and drew
out the stopper Boone had found on the Beargrass Creek road that
morning. The plug slipped deftly into place; the horn matched
perfectly.
"Well, so much for an assassin," he said grimly. "Now that you've
had your initial taste of the work our foemen do, have you lost taste
for the enterprise?"
"Not unless the enterprise has lost taste for me," laughed Audubon,
with a glance around. The crew of the flatboat were safe out of
hearing. "I told our friends here that we had set fire to the canes
ourselves, by accident----"
"Good. Am I badly hurt? Where are we?"
"You should have care; the bullet scraped along your skull, and you
have a knife-gash in the side. We have just passed Buck Creek, and
the rocky cliff for which we were making lies about three miles
downstream. Best let Red Hugh pass, go to the Blue River settlement,
and wait there until you are recovered."
Norton made no other reply than to reach for his half-dried clothes.
The other looked at him, his fine face wrinkled into a frown of
anxiety.
"It's rank madness, Norton!" he said quietly. "You're scarce able to
walk, and are like to suffer----"
"I am going to find Red Hugh, if I die the next hour."
Norton finished drawing on the fine-beaded moccasins, slipped the
red-streaked horn over his shoulder by its thong, and looked at his
comrade. He felt shaky indeed, but so clearly did his whole manner
evince the iron determination within him, that Audubon shook his head
resignedly and turned to his own garments.
"The canoe is towing astern," he said simply.
Norton reached for his buckskin shirt, and staggered under a swirl of
pain and weakness. Instantly the other was at his side, with a rush
of protestation against trying to leave the hospitable flatboat.
"I am going to find Red Hugh," said Norton doggedly, and resumed his
dressing as his head cleared.
They were slipping down the stream fast. Already the high cliff
mentioned by Boone as a landmark was in sight, far ahead, and Audubon
departed to find the captain. The latter readily assented to take
the flatboat in close to the Kentucky shore, and sent his crew to the
sweeps. The boat was going through to St. Louis, and her captain
carried some freight for Audubon, so that the latter met with prompt
obedience.
Meanwhile, Norton sat in the sun and wiped the wet rifles
mechanically. Every trace of the storm had vanished and the morning
was coming up splendid in summer warmth. Norton knew they were in a
grave situation, however, and said as much when his comrade rejoined
him.
The man whose canoe they now held had undoubtedly been one of the
Blacknose gang, and Norton strongly believed he had been one of a
cordon of spies stretched at intervals along the river. Were this
the case, the conflagration would be noticed, the man's body might be
found, and the gang would waste no more warnings. Norton's one hope
lay in getting ashore unobserved, pre-supposing the river to be
watched; if the flatboat ran in close to the wooded Kentucky shore,
he and Audubon might land unobserved by anyone who watched from a
distance. The river seemed deserted, save for the distantly smoking
canebrake far behind. Whether there were any Blacknose spies aboard
the flatboat could not be told.
So, with fresh ammunition and weapons and with rifles well-oiled,
Norton and Audubon stood in the bow as the ungainly flatboat swept
into an eddy and approached the well-wooded bank. On the opposite
shore, the rocky cliff with its cabin below was still a trifle
down-stream; above them rose a bluff, a solid mass of virgin timber
that stretched through to Tennessee with cabins scattered in its
depths. Save at Henderson and Louisville, the Kentucky shore was
poorly settled as yet, Shawnee raids from the Wabash having
discouraged too ambitious families.
The boat swept in to the bank, almost underneath a huge cottonwood,
and with a hasty farewell to the river-captain, the two men leaped
ashore and lost no time in reaching the summit of the bluff.
It was a harder task than it looked, however, and a good twenty
minutes had passed when at length the two panting men gained the
crest of the bluff and paused to rest. Norton knew he was in bad
shape and conjectured that malaria had touched him, for the uncleared
lands along the Ohio were notorious in this respect. With all his
stubborn will set upon reaching Red Hugh, he tightened his lips and
said nothing to Audubon of his reeling senses and disordered vision.
The flatboat was already far on her way to Henderson, once more
hugging the Indiana shore. Norton motioned Audubon to lead the way,
and in five minutes they struck upon a faint trail which ran along
the crest of the bluffs.
"Well, the Indians had their uses after all," sighed Audubon, as they
came upon it. "Whew! That was a stiff climb, Norton! Now where is
this blazed tree of yours?"
Norton collected himself into coherency.
"Directly opposite that cliff on the Indiana shore--a big cottonwood,
blazed north and south. We head straight south from it to reach Red
Hugh's cabin."
"Well, we're not opposite that cliff yet. Come along!"
The trail ascended the bluff-crest toward a knoll which topped it.
Norton caught himself staggering more than once; his wounds throbbed
and ached, and his brain seemed on fire. None the less, he knew he
was in no mortal danger, and was filled with a grim satisfaction over
the events of that morning.
"There's no telling how many rivermen that fellow has murdered," he
thought to himself, "and he tried his bloody work once too often. So
that's one snake out of our path! If the current only swept his body
away, our friend Blacknose will be in a pretty wonder as to what
became of him."
The trail was steeper now, and he clambered up painfully after
Audubon. At last, fearing lest his senses slip away altogether, he
sank down on a huge root.
"Do you look for the tree," he said as the other turned. "I must
rest a moment."
With an anxious glance at his white face, Audubon nodded and broke
into the trees, for they were already on the knoll. Norton leaned
back, faint and giddy, and as his eyes fell on the trail he noted
idly that it was hard rocky soil, indented with the unmistakable
marks of horseshoes. In his present state of mind this conveyed
nothing to him; a settler might have passed along by the trail, or
any wandering pedlar might have made the tracks.
He leaned back and closed his eyes, utterly relaxing himself and
grateful for the brief rest. He seemed to ache all over, and for
almost the first time in His life his whole body seemed wearied and
fatigued. A strange lassitude had come over him.
"Norton!"
At the excited whisper he opened his eyes and sat up, to see Audubon
peering through the bushes, finger on lip. The other beckoned
hastily.
"Come in here! Be cautious."
Already refreshed by his rest, Norton crept into the bushes.
Audubon's excited eagerness put him on the alert at once, and he
stole after the other with all the silent care of an Indian.
Reaching a densely overgrown covert, Audubon paused and held up a
hand, listening. From above there came a low trilling bird-song, but
Norton could make out nothing else.
"What is it, man? What did you find?"
"Listen!" whispered Audubon softly. "Isn't it like a goldfinch
singing under its breath? The same little trills, the same sustained
sweet notes in between--but it's a vireo, Norton! Would you guess
it?"
Norton stared, but his friend was in deadly earnest. He heard the
hidden bird change its song suddenly, and Audubon gripped his arm
hard.
"There--that's the real vireo song, with the pulse-like, clear-cut
notes! Did you ever hear such a thing before? That bird was giving
a real goldfinch trill, man----"
"Where's the cottonwood?" broke in Norton drily. The other looked at
him, his face blank on a sudden.
"Why--why--I clear forgot----"
Norton laughed, but Audubon suddenly gripped his arm harder. The
bird above had broken off in mid-song, for no apparent reason. From
somewhere outside the covert came the rattle of a stone, followed by
a horse's snort.
"Keep quiet," breathed Norton, looking into the deep eyes of his
friend. "Someone's on the trail."
Audubon nodded, and the two men stood tense and motionless, every
nerve on edge. With startling abruptness there came a deep curse
from the trail.
"Damn it, pull up! I ain't no Injun!"
There followed a chuckle in another voice--one that sent Norton's
hand to his rifle.
"Winded, Abel? Well, there's no haste. What did that boat put in
for?"
"How'n tarnation do I know?" growled the first. "Wa'n't none o' our
boys on her."
"So much the better for her, then," laughed the second. "It's odd we
didn't meet Tobin, Abel!"
A grunt replied. Norton glanced at his friend, his brown eyes aflame.
"Duval," he murmured under his breath. "Who's the other? Abel
Grigg?"
Audubon nodded quickly, and his face was set in eager surmise.
"Is Tobin the man we--we met this morning, Norton?"
Norton pursed up his lips in a silent whistle, staring. Was the
thing possible after all? He had vaguely suspected it before, yet it
seemed incredible. He replied to the question with a mute shake of
the head, as Duval's voice continued. It seemed that Duval and Grigg
were pausing for breath on the trail opposite the covert.
"Listen here, Abel: this thing has to be finished up sharp, or that
fool is apt to blunder on something that'll bring the Regulators down
on us." Duval's voice was earnest, cold, menacing. "He got away
from the boys at Louisville, and unless Tobin has met him and is
attending to him, you'll have to do the work. I'll be busy in court
at Henderson for a week to come."
"I'll 'tend to him," growled Grigg. "How 'bout layin' fer that cargo
comin' down nex' month in Cap. Brookfield's hoss-boat? We could ship
a couple o' the boys on her an' do the business by them islands at
the Wabash."
"Not so bad," returned Duval. "Lay it to a bunch of Shawnees, eh?"
"Sure. That feller Tecumsey and his brother, the Prophet, is raisin'
hell all through the tribes, Duval, an' they's goin' to be a blow-up
mighty sudden on the border. Now looky here. If you're a-goin' on
to Henderson, I'll leave ye here an' go to meet the boys, so I want
to settle this business of ourn. How much you goin' to turn over fer
the gal, eh?"
"I've told you before, Abel, that I'll give you five hundred cash and
what stuff we've got in the cache. Take it or leave it."
"Well, that 'baccy in the cache will fetch about two hundred at Saint
Looey, eh? Then we got that flax out o' the last boat, an' them ten
kegs o' 'lasses--all right. You see to makin' out the papers an'
I'll sign 'em. The gal won't consent, mebbe, but I'll swear she
ain't of age. You got to have a preacher weddin', though."
"Of course, you fool!" And there was an exasperated note in Duval's
voice. "Haven't I said I wanted to marry her? But you've got to
clear out, understand--go to New Orleans or Saint Louis, I don't care
which, and stay."
"I'll do that, all right. Well, see ye at Henderson."
"Take care of that spy, mind!" called Duval. Only silence ensued.
Then came a faint thud of hoofs, and again silence.
Norton and Audubon stared at each other. The former had forgotten
his illness in his high excitement, for now he knew beyond a doubt
that fate had given over his enemy into his hand.
"By thunder!" he ejaculated slowly. "Audubon, we've got the whole
game on the table before us! The mysterious Blacknose is Abel Grigg,
and Duval is in league with him--is probably the brains of the
organization. The black-hearted scoundrel! When we tell what we've
just heard now----"
"Who'll believe us?" broke in Audubon gravely, and shook his head.
"It won't do, Norton! Duval is too prominent a man to be smashed
without clear evidence. Besides, we wouldn't break up the gang by
nabbing him and Grigg alone. Depend upon it, we could do little
against that clever villain without more evidence than those words.
But what a blackguard he is--to be robbing his own townsmen!"
"And that girl--Grigg's daughter!" broke in Norton, a flame of rage
sweeping through him. "Did you hear them? He's buying the girl,
Audubon--buying her! Damn it, man, did you ever see that girl?"
Audubon gazed at him, astonished at the outburst.
"Yes," he replied slowly, "I've seen her once or twice in the store.
Do you think that's really what they meant? Why, it can't be
possible, Norton!"
None the less, Norton knew that the thing was true. He drew a deep
breath as the full realization of his triumph broke over his mind.
By a stroke of sheer luck he had solved the mystery of Blacknose--but
was it luck? Had not one thing led to another in marvellous
sequence--the cane-brake, the fire, the flatboat, the landing, and
finally the vireo singing the song of a goldfinch? Surely, there was
more than luck in all this!
A new burst of rage came into his heart at thought of Kitty Grigg,
however. So this evil-hoary old backwoodsman who was not her father
was planning to sell her to Duval! Norton inwardly vowed that such a
sale should never be consummated. He remembered the girl as he had
last seen her by the cabin, glorious in her unstained beauty and her
fine clear poise--and groaned. With a sudden movement he reached
inside his shirt and took out the little gold eagle still pinned to
it.
"Audubon," he cried earnestly, "I swear by this emblem, which stands
for the things I hold dearest--my country, and my father's
memory--that before Duval carries through his purpose regarding Kitty
Grigg, I'll do to him as I did to his servant this morning! So help
me!"
The bird-lover gazed at him searchingly.
"Then--you know the girl?"
"Know her? Yes!" exclaimed Norton hotly. "I know her, and she's no
daughter of Abel Grigg! Who her real family was will not be hard to
find out if I can get in touch with some of the officers of the
Cincinnati--but now for work. Audubon, you heard what those devils
said about a horse-boat belonging to a Captain Brookfield. Do you
know anything of such a craft?"
The other nodded, frowning.
"Yes. Brookfield is an odd genius who has invented a way of driving
his forty-ton boat by horse-power against the river-current. He is
at Louisville now, taking contracts for his next trip down the river,
and sails next month."
"Well, see here!" Norton felt the fever gripping him again, but had
already glimpsed a plan of action. "You get back to Louisville, see
Elisha Ayres, and tell him about it. Ayres will communicate with me
at Blue River."
"And you----!" queried the astonished Audubon.
"I'll trail that devil of a Grigg," said Norton hastily. "He said he
was going to meet 'the boys', and if I can find their cache we'll nab
the whole gang! By thunder, Audubon, we've the whole thing in our
hands now!"
"But--wait!" cried Audubon hastily, as Norton turned toward the
trail. "First, get this man Red Hugh! If he's a hunter, as Boone
said, then you and he together will have no trouble picking up
Grigg's trail, and you may need another rifle badly."
For a moment Norton considered this, while the fever swirled through
him. He was sorely tempted to plunge off on the trail of Abel Grigg,
but knew that there was sound advice in Audubon's words.
"All right," he said shortly. "Come--we'll find Red Hugh first."
His excitement overbore his illness for the moment, and returning to
the trail he led the way to the very crest of the knoll. Duval and
Grigg had been swallowed up in the forest, but staring them in the
face was a giant cottonwood, blazed north and south. Pointing to it
silently, Norton wheeled and headed away from the river into the
trees.
How far they went through that wilderness he never knew, for after
ten minutes he was fighting desperately against the pain and sickness
which came over him. Worse than all, he was growing terribly weak;
once he caught himself reeling, and only by a great effort did he
keep on. Audubon had a small compass, by which they held directly
south as Boone had commanded.
Then, almost without warning, Norton felt his knees giving way. He
was very clear-headed, but he seemed to have lost the power of
motion. With a single low groan he caught at a tree, missed it, and
plunged down. Audubon was over him on the instant, raising him
against the tree, dread anxiety in face and voice.
"It's just--weakness," gasped Norton. "A touch of fever, I think.
Get Red Hugh--put him on the trail of Grigg. I'll be all right with
a bit of rest. Hurry, man!"
Audubon looked about, biting his lips. Before he could reply,
however, a bush to one side of them waved slightly, the sunlight
glinted on a rifle-barrel, and a voice rang out in harsh command:
"Hands up, you skunk! Drop that rifle--quick!"
Helpless, the naturalist obeyed. Norton tried to reach his rifle,
but could not move, and with another groan of despair fell back,
waiting grimly for what might come.