nough," said Wyatt. "Oh, he's brave and cunning and
strong. He would not be so much worth taking if he were not all those
things!"

Early glanced at the face of his leader.

"You do dislike him, that's sure!" he said.

"You make no mistake when you say so," replied Wyatt. "There are not
many of us here in the woods, and somehow he and I seem to have been
always in opposition in the last two or three years. I think, however,
that a new campaign will end in overwhelming victory for us, and
Kaintuckee will become a complete wilderness again."

The stalwart Shawnees paddled on all that afternoon without stopping or
complaining once. It was a brilliant day in early summer, all golden
sunshine, but not too warm. The river flowed in curve after curve, and
its surface was always illumined by the bright rays save where the
unbroken forest hung in a green shadow over either edge. Scarlet
tanagers darted like flashes of flame from tree to tree, and from low
boughs a bird now and then poured forth a full measure of song. Braxton
Wyatt had never looked upon a more peaceful wilderness, but before the
sun began to set he was afflicted with a strange disquiet. An expert
woodsman with an instinct for the sounds and stirrings of the forest, he
began to have a belief that they were not alone on the river. He heard
nothing and saw nothing, yet he felt in a vague, misty way that they
were followed. He tried to put aside the thought as foolish, but it
became so strong that at last he gave a signal to stop.

"What is it?" asked Early, as the paddles ceased to sigh through the
water.

"I thought I heard something behind us," replied Wyatt, although he had
heard nothing, "and you know we cannot afford to be seen here by any
white scout or hunter."

The Indians listened intently with their trained ears and then shook
their heads. There was no sound behind them, save the soft flowing of
the river, as it lapped against either bank.

"I hear nothing," said Early.

"Nor do I," admitted Wyatt, "yet I could have sworn a few minutes ago
that we were being followed. Instinct is sometimes a good guide in the
forest."

"Then I suggest," said Early, "that we turn back for a few miles. We can
float with the current close up to the bank under the overhanging
boughs, and, if hunters or scouts are following us, they'll soon wish
they were somewhere else."

He laughed and Braxton Wyatt joined him in his savage mirth.

"Your idea is a good one,"