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nce, but slipped out between the boughs, and walking on dead leaves and fallen brushwood, in order to leave as little trace as possible, reached the valley below. This low area of land was studded for a long distance with new pools of water, which would disappear the next day, and the ground was so soft that they took to the bordering forest in order to escape the mud. "'Pears likely to me," said the shiftless one, "that them Britishers had tents. They wouldn't go on so long an expedition as this without 'em. It's probable then that we'll find the renegades in or about 'em." "Sounds as if it might be that way," said Henry. "The site of their camp is not more than a mile distant now, and the tents may be pitched somewhere in the woods." "Reckon we're near, Henry, I smell smoke, and it's the smoke that comes out of a pipe." "I smell it too. It's straight ahead. It must be one of the officers. We'll have to be slow and mighty particular. There's a big moon and all the stars are out." The night, as if to atone for the one that had gone before, was particularly brilliant. The dripping woods were luminous with silvery moonlight and the three used every tree and bush as they approached the point from which the tobacco smoke came. The woods were so dense there that they heard the men before they saw them. It was first a hum of voices and then articulated words. "It seems that these forest expeditions are not to be taken lightly, Wyatt," said a heavy growling voice. "No, Colonel Alloway," Braxton Wyatt replied in smooth tones. "There are no roads in the wilderness. If we want one we'll have to make it. It's the cannon that hold us back." "The Indians could move fast without them." "Yes, sir, but we must have 'em. We can't break through the palisades without 'em." "Why, young sir, these red warriors can annihilate anything to be found in Kentucky!" "They did not do it, sir, when we attacked Wareville last year." "Lack of leadership! Lack of leadership!" "If you'll pardon me, sir, I don't think it was. The Indians have to fight in their own way, and the Kentucky riflemen are the best in the world. Why, sir, the things they can do with their rifles are amazing. A musket is like an old-fashioned arquebus compared with their long-barreled weapons. I know one of them--and I must say it, though I hate him--who could kill running deer at two hundred yards, as fast as you could hand him the rifles, never mis
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