There was no sign of pursuit. I was no novice in Indian warfare, but in
this instance I scarcely believed the Shawnees would draw near enough to
make the chase interesting. So far as I could observe Cousin had succeeded
in stealing away from them, and there was no Indian who could overtake
him, especially if he ran at my stirrup.

"They've took four sculps on this side the valley," he murmured as he
loped along at my side. "I bagged three on 'em. You fetched one. Black
Hoof is too big a chief to call it quits. He's back there leadin' the
chase. So I 'low it'll be close."

A curious little thrill chilled my spine. Catahecassa, or Black Hoof, was
one of the most redoubtable and resourceful savages to be found in the
Shawnee nation. If below Cornstalk's intellectual plane he made up for
much of any such discrepancy by his fiery courage and deep cunning.

The long-drawn howl of a wolf sounded up the slope on our left and was
soon answered by a similar call directly in our rear. For a third time the
signal menaced us, on our right and at a considerable distance.

"They're still scoutin' the ridge for me," murmured Cousin, his lean face
turning to the left. "The heft of 'em are comin' along the trace behind
us. Those over to the right are hustlin' to find out what's up. We must
git along faster!"

My mount responded eagerly, for he sensed the danger. And it was wonderful
to observe how Cousin kept up, with one hand on my stirrup, the other
holding the rifle. We were well beyond the brook where I shot my Shawnee,
and within half a mile or less of the Grisdol cabin, when our flight was
interrupted for a few moments by the behavior of my horse.

It was just as we turned from the main trace to strike into the path
leading to the cabin that the animal bolted sidewise, crowding Cousin deep
into the bushes. I reined in and stared down on a terrible sight--that of
the four Grisdols. They lay in the path, head to head, in the form of a
cross. I felt my stirrup shake as Cousin's hand rested on it. He gave a
little gasping sob and whispered:

"How near to the cabin now?"

"Less than half a mile," I told him as I soothed my horse and permitted
him to pick his way around the dead.

Once more we were off, but now Cousin ran behind, for the way was winding
and narrow, and at places the overhanging boughs tried to brush me from
the saddle.

There was no need of glancing back to make sure my companion was keeping
up, for his impat