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