I had heard nothing, seen nothing, and yet he had both heard and seen, and
had made his kill.

"No use coverin' up any longer," he said. "They're closin' in. Make for
the trace shortest way. Hold back once you hit it for me to come up.
There's not more'n two or three close at hand, but the whole kit an'
b'ilin' know we're here."

The spiteful _spang_ of his rifle barely interrupted the woods life close
about us. Only for a moment did the squirrels cease their chatter. A
grouse drummed away in alarm, but only for a short flight. No cries of
rage, nor war-whoops, warned that the enemy were closing in on us. Had I
been new to the border I should have disbelieved my companion's statement.
Leading the horse, I started down the bank while Cousin climbed higher.

It was not until my horse slid down a ten-foot bank that I heard a hostile
sound--the rush of many feet through last year's dead leaves. I heard the
Deckhard fired once, and instantly the side of the ridge was as quiet as a
death-chamber. Then came the scream of a panther, Cousin's way of
announcing a kill.

They must have attempted rushing him, thinking his rifle was empty; for he
fired again, and once more gave voice to his war-cry. Then the old eternal
quiet of the forest dropped back in place. Until I heard a Shawnee
scalp-cry I could rest easy as to my companion. I slipped into the trace
and mounted, and pushed ahead.

The Indians were abreast of me and there was the danger of their cutting
into the trace ahead. That they had not followed at my heels made me
believe they were concentrating all their energies on making a surround
and killing, or capturing their much feared enemy. They would prefer to
dance Cousin's scalp than to dance a dozen of men of my caliber.

There were no more shots up the ridge, and I found it hard to decide just
what gait I should permit my horse to take. I could not leave the boy
behind, nor did I care to risk being intercepted. I was worrying my mind
into a fine stew over this point when the bushes stirred ahead. I dropped
to the ground behind the horse, but it was young Cousin. He motioned for
me to hurry.

"You dodged them!" I said.

"Black Hoof's band. They're hard to dodge," he whispered, striding rapidly
along and swinging his head from side to side. "How far to the Grisdol
cabin?"

"Two miles."

"Then ride for it. I'll run at your stirrup. We'll need that cabin if it
ain't been burned. I 'low it'll be a close race."