Part 2

Daniels chuckled as if it were a good joke. Then he silently surveyed Knight for a bit and briskly decided:

“Feller’s half starved. Been running his legs off. Hide barked and scratched most tarnal. He oughter eat and sleep.”

“Just what I was telling him,” agreed Kinsty. “He’s most bodacious to be pushing through to Massie’s Station.”

“Safe here for the night as he’d be at Massie’s. What with Greeby and the Girtys and the Shawnees, the station is fair beset.”

“If they ain’t strongly forted he shouldn’t go there,” said Kinsty.

“They can stand off the Injuns if white renegades don’t lend a hand and play some new deviltry. If Gineral Sinclair ’arned a lesson from Gineral Harmar’s defeat last year we’ll have peace along this river. If he gits a red ax in the head it’ll keep on being death to any one planting corn north of this river. And I’m afraid for Sinclair. Little Turtle and his Miamis are ag’in him as they was ag’in Harmar,” said Daniels.

“I don’t think this country will ever be safe for whites,” sighed Knight. “I feel faint. Wish I could eat and sleep and cross into Kentucky and make back to Richmond. I’m mortal tired of the border.”

“Make a fire and I’ll fetch in some small game,” said Daniels. “After we’ve et and rested we’ll see what fits the young man’s case best.”

He slipped into the growth and Kinsty scooped a shallow hole one side of the path and started a small blaze, feeding it with small pieces of bark until he had a deep bed of coals. Daniels came in with a turkey and some pigeons. He had knocked them over with his ax. The meat was quickly put to roasting.

Knight discovered he was ravenously hungry. He could not wait for the meat to be cooked through. He snatched a turkey leg and ate like a wolf.

“Take your time and don’t wolf it in chunks,” advised Daniels.

After they had finished and covered the fire-hole with branches and dirt, with two small apertures for air, Daniels jumped to his feet and announced he would scout for a bit. Kinsty said nothing until the stranger had withdrawn; then he leaned forward and whispered--

“Wish I knew more ’bout him.”

Knight shivered at this suggestion that all might not be right with Daniels.

“He’s a white man. He didn’t have any red stripe on his back. Could he be one of the Girtys?”

“Not Simon. I seen Simon once. May be George. I’m just as skeered of him as I be of Simon.”

Knight’s nerves were unstrung. He groaned and complained, “I thought I’d be all right if I could live to reach the river. Now it looks worse’n it did when I was knocking Little Beaver off his feet. What shall we do? I’m fair wore out just from being afraid of what may happen.”

Kinsty frowned at the threads of smoke escaping from the fire-hole vents, and after a while replied:

“We’ve got to make sure. He may be honest as we be. But till we know we don’t want him behind us, nor scouting off one side. See here: only sensible thing for us to do is to take him to Massie’s. If folks there say he’s all right no harm’s done.”

Knight sadly exclaimed:

“Just let me git out of this country! I vow I’ll stay east of the mountains if I ever get back there.”

“Few miles more won’t make much difference,” consoled Kinsty. “If we can s’prize that feller and tie his hands and take him down stream we’ll soon know if he’s all right.”

“He seems to be a pleasant sort of man,” said Knight, now speaking more hopefully.

Kinsty laughed silently.

Then he muttered, “Pleasant? Yes, they can be that. A white man who lives with Injuns from ch’ice can be lots of things. They can wade into the river, with what looks to be blood on their face and arms, and beg for a keel-boat to swing in toward the bank and pick ’em up. No end to the traps they can set. Why, when you first called out I was sure you was bait for the trap that might snag me. Even when I see you, your legs’n arms all scratched and torn, I thought you was fixed up that way to fool me.”

“That’s why you kept pestering me about my folks and friends?”

“Zactly. Trying to catch you in a lie, but you rung true. Now, this is what we must do. I’ll jump this feller and git the drop. You ties his hands behind him when I give the word. We’ll take him through to Massie’s. If he’s all right he won’t feel hard for the way we’ve used him. If he’s a bad one Massie’s men will settle him.”

The plan repelled Knight, but he could think of nothing better. He bowed his head in agreement.

Kinsty stirred uneasily and whispered:

“We got to have light. He could kill both of us in this darkness. Light to see to work by.”

He tore the cover off the fire-hole and threw in dry branches and piled on dead limbs until he had a companionable blaze which brightly lighted the small opening where they had camped. In a short time careless steps sounded in the woods and soon Daniels burst through into the light and harshly demanded:

“What be you trying to do? Call down on us all the northwest tribes?”

“No danger,” replied Kinsty. “Younker was in a bad way along of the darkness.”

* * * * *

Daniels squatted on his heels, his rifle on the ground beside him. On the opposite side of the fire Kinsty sat cross-legged, his rifle across his knees.

Knight held his breath as he discovered the two men were staring at each other fixedly. He was positive that Daniels had overheard, or had guessed their plan.

Kinsty slowly leaned back and commenced swinging the long barrel of his gun toward the fire. Then with breath-taking quickness the squatting figure straightened out and was flying through the flames to land on Kinsty before the latter could straighten out his legs. Kinsty’s rifle went off, the bullet passing close to Knight’s head and causing him to cry out wildly.

“Hit him!” gasped Kinsty.

Knight moved around the fire, but the interlocked figures were rolling and twisting so rapidly he had no opportunity to land a blow without running the risk of hitting the wrong man. He shuddered as he caught the flash of the firelight on two knife blades. Each man had drawn his long butcher-knife, and they grunted loudly as they endeavored to give mortal wounds. They revolved, a blur of arms and legs, out of the zone of light and crashed into the edge of the growth. Then sounded a loud groan.

Knight came out of his stupor and sprang to the rifles and snatched up Kinsty’s weapon and stood desperately at bay as a figure emerged from the darkness.

With gaping mouth he leaned forward to discover which had survived the terrible duel. The figure entered the light. It was Daniels.

“You’ve killed him!” yelled Knight. “Put up your hands! Drop that knife!”

The man threw the knife to the ground and picked up a burning faggot. Then he commanded:

“Follow me and take a peek at your friend, who was so cur’ous to see my back.” Waving the torch to keep it alive he strode to the edge of the growth. Knight followed, the rifle cocked. Swinging the torch down in a half circle the man invited, “Take a look. What d’ye see?”

The two had torn the clothing almost from each other in their desperate fight. Kinsty, with his hunting-shirt ripped from hem to collar, was lying on his face. A red stripe extended the length of his spine.

Straightening up the man continued:

“Knew him the second I see him. But he didn’t know me. He’s one of Little Beaver’s white Injuns. He’s Greeby.”

Knight nearly collapsed.

“Greeby the renegade! Why did he ask about my folks, my home, so many questions about everything?” he cried.

“So’s he could pass off for you where your folks was known and you wa’n’t. Now we’ll pick up a canoe I had hid along here somewheres and cross to t’other shore.”

“He was taking me to Massie’s station tomorrow!”

“He was taking your ha’r back to Little Beaver, leaving you dead where he cooked your supper. No more talk. Take his gun, powder horn ’n’ knife.”

“Not the knife,” shuddered Knight. “Can you find your canoe in the dark?”

“Why not? It ain’t run away. Come, hurry. This light may fetch a parcel of Injuns on our backs.”

“Lord knows I’m grateful, Daniels--”

“Boone. Dan’l Boone. Didn’t want to give my name to Greeby till I had a fair chance in a fight. Told him when we was scuffing on the ground. S’prized him so mightily I got home with the knife.”

[Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the November 23, 1926 issue of Adventure magazine.]