he
clearing. Before the alarm could find expression in shouts and a semblance
of defense a deep voice called from the woods:

"White men! Friends! Hacker, Scott and Runner."

A rousing cheer greeted these newcomers, and one enthusiast grabbed up the
jug and ran to meet them. Each of the three drank deeply and were rewarded
with more cheers. If they were murderous in their hatred they would be
stout defenders. As for their attitude toward all Indians, there were but
few along the border who did not have some cause for hating the natives.

This sentiment of the frontier was shown when Henry Judah, arrested for
killing some friendly Indians on the South Branch, was rescued by two
hundred pioneers. After his irons were knocked off the settlers warned the
authorities it would not be well to place him in custody a second time.
Nor was Judah the only man thus snatched from the law.

Men like Hacker and his companions would do very little manual labor. They
did not build homes, but were always roaming about the country. This trait
was of value to men of the Davis type, inasmuch as the killers brought in
much game when the home-makers were busy with their cabins or planting.

"Any news, Lige?" bawled Davis, his deep voice booming across the clearing
and overriding the clamorous welcome of his neighbors.

"Found some footing and hoss-tracks," Runner yelled back.

"They'll be coming this way, the yaller dogs, and we're here to rub 'em up
a bit!" boasted Scott.

"Jesse Hughes oughter be here," said one of the men who was notching the
long logs.

"He'll be along if there's promise of a fight," assured Hacker. "Young
Cousin and Ike Crabtree, too."

"I 'low them red devils would skin back to the Ohio like a burned cat if
they know'd you boys was after 'em!" cried Widow McCabe, who was as strong
as the average man and could swing an ax with the best of them. Her
husband was killed on the Kanawha the year before, and her hatred of
Indians was as intense as that of any killer.

"They'll sure know they've met with some trouble, Missus," modestly
admitted Hacker.

The three men seated themselves on a knoll and watched the busy scene. I
joined them and inquired about the footing they had observed. Scott
informed me they had followed the trail toward the creek and then lost
it.

"It was a small party of scouts, mebbe not more'n three," he said. "We
sort o' reckon that they 'lowed they might be followed and so took to
water. W