we are eating it," Jack
remarked. "If we can't shoot a gun what are we going to do when it's
all gone?"

"Don't worry," Solomon answered. "Ye're in my kentry now an' there's a
better tavern up in the high trail."

They fared along, favored by good weather, and spent that night on the
shore of a little pond not more than fifty paces off the old blazed
thoroughfare. Next day, about "half-way from dawn to dark," as Solomon
was wont, now and then, to speak of the noon hour, they came suddenly
upon fresh "sign." It was where the big north trail from the upper
waters of the Mohawk joined the one near which they had been traveling.
When they were approaching the point Solomon had left Jack in a thicket
and cautiously crept out to the "juncshin." There was half an hour of
silence before the old scout came back in sight and beckoned to Jack.
His face had never looked more serious. The young man approached him.
Solomon swallowed--a part of the effort to restrain his emotions.

"Want to show ye suthin'," he whispered.

The two went cautiously toward the trail. When they reached it the old
scout led the way to soft ground near a brook. Then he pointed down at
the mud. There were many footprints, newly made, and among them the
print of that wooden peg with an iron ring around its bottom, which
they had seen twice before, and which was associated with the blackest
memories they knew. For some time Solomon studied the surface of the
trail in silence.

"More'n twenty Injuns, two captives, a pair o' hosses, a cow an' the
devil," he whispered to Jack. "Been a raid down to the Mohawk Valley.
The cow an' the hosses are loaded with plunder. I've noticed that when
the Injuns go out to rob an' kill folks ye find, 'mong their tracks,
the print o' that 'ere iron ring. I seen it twice in the Ohio kentry.
Here is the heart o' the devil an' his fire-water. Red Snout has got
to be started on a new trail. His ol' peg leg is goin' down to the
gate o' hell to-night."

Solomon's face had darkened with anger. There were deep furrows across
his brow.

Standing before Jack about three feet away, he drew out his ram rod and
tossed it to the young man, who caught it a little above the middle.
Jack knew the meaning of this. They were to put their hands upon the
ram rod, one above the other. The last hand it would hold was to do
the killing. It was Solomon's.

"Thank God!" he whispered, as his face brightened.

He seemed to be