t it was almost worthy of
the old remark that a person could not see his hand before his face.

Accordingly, all yearned or prayed for the coming of darkness.

"Hark," whispered Kenton, turning to Boone, and raising his hand as a
gesture for silence.

No need of that, for the elder had caught the sound--a faint and
apparently distant cawing of a crow from some lofty tree-top.

Both had heard the same cry more than once that afternoon, and instead
of its being the call of a crow, they knew it came from the throat of an
Indian warrior, and therefore a relentless enemy.

CHAPTER II.

THE CAWING OF A CROW.

Three separate times previous to this that faint cawing signal had been
heard, as it seemed, from the distant tree-tops. The most sensitive ear
could not say of a certainty it was not made by one of those
black-coated birds calling to its mate or the flock from which it had
strayed. Neither Boone nor Kenton distinguished any difference between
the tone and what they had heard times without number, and yet neither
held a doubt that it was emitted by a dusky spy stealing through the
woods, and that it bore a momentous message to others of his kith and
kin.

The keen sense of hearing enabled the rangers to locate the signal at
less than a quarter of a mile in front and quite close to the Ohio. From
the first time it was heard, no more than half an hour before, it held
the same relative distance from the river, but advanced at a pace so
nearly equal to that of Boone and Kenton that it was impossible to
decide whether it was further off or nearer than before.

There was no reply to the call, and it was uttered only three times in
each instance. The oppressive stillness that held reign throughout the
forest on that sultry summer afternoon enabled the two men to hear the
cawing with unmistakable distinctness.

In short, our friends interpreted it as a notice from the dusky scout to
his comrades that he was following the progress of the pioneers, which
was therefore fully understood by the war party that was seeking to
encompass their destruction.

When the signal sounded for the fourth time, the rangers seated on the
fallen tree looked in each other's faces without speaking. Then Kenton
asked, in his guarded undertone:

"What do you make of it, Dan'l?"

"There's only one thing to make of it; them Shawanoes are keeping track
of every movement of the folks behind us, and we can't hinder' em."

"How many