small scabbard, by a string over his left breast. He grasped
the handle, ready to whip it out on the first need. He did not mean that
his antagonist should "get the drop" on him.

Kenton stood with his feet well together, but separated enough to give
his attitude grace and strength. His coonskin cap, fringed hunting
shirt, leggings and shoes were such as were commonly worn by people of
his calling. He was taller, more sinewy and equally active with the
Shawanoe, upon whom his blue eyes were fixed with burning intensity and
a glow that was the "light of battle" itself.

The Panther had brought no weapon except his knife with him. The rifle
of the ranger rested against a tree several paces away, and as near the
Indian as the white man. It was a strange position for two mortal
enemies, thoroughly distrusting each other, but in neither case did it
imply a lessening of that distrust; it simply attested the faith of the
two in a third person--Missionary Finley. He had arranged this meeting,
and both believed in him.

A scornful smile lit up the thin, smooth, handsome face of Kenton, who,
with his fingers still clasping the haft of the weapon at his breast,
said in the Shawanoe tongue:

"The Panther meets his enemy at last, but does he bring no warriors with
him to hide among the trees and rush forward when he begs for mercy from
the white man?"

This question was meant for the cutting taunt it proved to be, for it
was a strange fashion on the frontier, when two enemies came face to
face in deadly encounter, for each to try to goad the other to the point
of what may be termed nervousness before the critical assault took
place.

"The Panther needs no one to help him bring the dog of a white man to
his knees," replied Wa-on-mon, holding his passion well in hand.

"Then why, Shawanoe, did you run away when a short time since you
promised to meet me by the splintered tree near the clearing?"

"The dog of a white man speaks as a fool! He knows that Wa-on-mon
hastened to find his brave warriors, that the pale-faces should not be
allowed to make their way to the fort. He found them, and they shall
never get there."

"The Shawanoes have tried to stop them, but could not; they tried last
night, and more than one of the dogs were brought low. The gun that
leans against the tree there did its part, as it shall continue to do.
The Shawanoes fled as children, and I leaped ashore and chased them, but
they ran too fast for me to c