in' their
cattle behind. Mebbe I'll scout over that way by 'n' by.

"Augusta boys ain't goin' to have any man in their militia company that
stands under six feet in his moccasins. Folks between the heads o'
Bluestone an' Clinch so skeered they prob'ly won't stay to lay by their
corn. Injuns signs up Sandy Creek has made some o' Moccasin an' Copper
Creek folks come off. I 'low that's 'bout all."

"Any signs of the Cherokees coming in?"

"Some says they will. T'others says they won't. Sort o' depends on whether
they can keep Ike Crabtree from killin' of 'em off."

He threw his rifle over his shoulder and with a curt nod turned into the
bushes and followed the bank to find a crossing. He was away on his
fearful business; his youth was hopelessly corroded.

I scouted the spot where I had left my horse and discovered no signs of
Indians. Unspanceling and mounting, I picked up my journey. I was passing
through a mountainous country which contained many large meadows. These
pleasant openings would accommodate many cattle if not for the Indian
danger. They were thick with grass and enough hay could be cured on them
to feed large herds throughout the winter.

The bottom-lands, although smaller, were very rich. Along the hillsides I
had no doubt but that grain could easily be grown. Altogether it was a
most pleasing country if lasting peace ever could come to the border.
While I observed the natural advantages and fancied the glades and bottoms
dotted with happy cabins, I did not forget the dead Delaware floating down
the river, nor ignore the probability of some of his kin discovering the
murder before sundown and taking the path for reprisals.

There was no suggestion of war in the warm sunshine and busy woods-life.
Birds rejoiced in their matings, and the air was most gracious with the
perfume of growing things. The stirring optimism of spring lingered with
me. My heart was warm to rejoin old friends, to enjoy women's company; but
never a moment did I neglect to scrutinize the trace ahead.

The day passed with no hint of danger. I had the world to myself when the
sun was cradled by the western ridges. I found it a wonderful world, and I
believed it was never intended that any race of savages, whites or red,
should hold such fair lands for hunting-preserves only.

That night, according to my custom, I spanceled my horse at a considerable
distance from my camp. I had selected a spot on top of a ridge, where the
maples a