il
of the would-be assassin. Tracks were found at last (high up on the rocky
hillside)--those of a white man, for he wore boots; but they were very
faint and Ree declared he would waste no time in attempting to follow
them.

"But I do believe, John," he said, "that the shot which wounded North
Wind was intended for me, and the fellow who shot, then, fired again
to-day."

"You are thinking of Big Pete; I know you are!" John answered. "But I am
sure you are mistaken, Ree. Why it was miles and miles away that North
Wind was shot, and there hasn't been a day since then but what we could
have both been killed, perhaps, by some one hidden along the road."

The woodsman, when he had heard the story, coincided with John's opinion
and Ree said nothing more, though he was not convinced that he was
wrong.

The brisk talk of the stranger turned the boys' thoughts to other
subjects as the journey was resumed. He was by no means a disagreeable
fellow. His real name was "Thomas Trout," he said, but he was everywhere
known as "Tom Fish." He had tramped over all the hills and valleys for
miles around and seemed to know the country thoroughly. He accepted the
boys' invitation to eat dinner with them, and gave a share of the pounded
parched corn he carried in a pouch at his belt, in return for venison and
coarse corn bread, John having baked the latter on a flat stone beside
their camp-fire, the previous night.

When in the afternoon, Tom Fish left the boys he told them they would be
likely to see him at Fort Pitt, and gave them many directions as to where
they had better "put up" while at Pittsburgh, as he called the place,
such being its new name at that time.

John declared he would not sleep a wink that night, but remain on guard
until morning. "For we must be prudent," he said, in a very sober tone,
which from him sounded so funny that Ree laughed outright.

And yet John was probably as prudent a boy as Ree; for the latter was so
almost entirely fearless that he rushed into danger in a way not prudent
at all, and many severe lessons which he learned afterward did not make
him cautious as he should have been.

The night passed without one disturbing incident and the rising sun found
the boys on their way once more; before its setting they reached
Pittsburg.

"Fort Pitt," as they were accustomed to call the straggling hamlet, stood
at the foot of the hills at the confluence of the Allegheny and
Monongahela rivers. Because o