Benton, in leaving the flask of potent corn-juice with the worthy Bob, had rightly calculated that Bob would speedily dispose of the contents, and get gloriously drunk on the same.
The trap that the swarthy-skinned stranger had laid had caught the redoubtable Bob, and once he had fallen into deep and heavy slumber, it was an easy task for Benton to remove the prisoner from the log cabin.
Benton had fastened the bar again across the door of the house, so that it seemed all secure, and left no trace of the prisoner’s escape.
When they had crossed the little clearing, and gained the shelter of the wood, Benton halted.
“Now, young lady, I must take you in my arms and carry you for a little while, so that the ground shall bear no traces by which you may be tracked and recaptured. These red-skins have the scent of a bloodhound, and the moment they discover your escape they will scour the country for miles around in search of you. Therefore, for your safety as well as for my own, we must leave, in border parlance, a blind trail.”
“Adopt any method that you please to secure my escape from these terrible savages and I will bless you for it,” said Virginia, earnestly.
Benton raised the light figure of the girl in his strong arms as though she had been a child, and then rapidly threaded his way through the forest.
The course that Benton followed led toward the Ohio, and ran parallel with the Kanawha.
For some thirty minutes, with rapid steps, Benton went onward, making his way through the thicket without doubt or hesitation, as if he were perfectly familiar with the country.
At the end of the thirty minutes he halted on the edge of a little clearing, close by the banks of the Kanawha. In the center of the clearing stood a log-cabin, something like the one which had held Virginia a prisoner.