“Yes, and the renegade, Simon Girty, is to guide the Injuns.”
“If I had him within reach of my rifle once, he’d never guide another Injun expedition ag’in’ his own flesh and blood,” said Boone, and his hand closed tightly around the rifle-barrel.
“I was jest on my way to the settlement at Point Pleasant when I started up the buck this morning,” said Lark.
“Well, I’m right glad that it happened as it did, ’cos I shouldn’t have had the pleasure of meetin’ you,” said Boone. “Now, s’pose we swing the buck on a pole an’ tote it in to the station. I reasonably expect that there’ll be some white faces over yonder when they hear that Ke-ne-ha-ha an’ his Shawnees, to say nothin’ of Girty, are on the war-path.”
“There ought to be good men enough along the Ohio to whip any force these red devils can bring,” said Lark.
“Well, they’re awful scattered, but I reckon that now that we know what’s goin’ on, we can get men enough to give the Shawnees all the fighting that they want.”
Then the two slung the buck on a pole and started to the station known as Point Pleasant.
CHAPTER II.
THE SECRET FOE.
In the pleasant valley of the Scioto, near what is now the town of Chillicothe, stood the principal village of the great Shawnee nation—the Indian tribe that could bring ten thousand warriors into the field—deadly enemies of the pale-faced intruder.