“Yes, as preachin’. I don’t know as we kin damage the critter,” said Boone, thoughtfully. “We hain’t got no silver bullets, and I’ve heerd say that it takes a silver bullet to stop a spook.”
“We kin try,” said Kenton, decidedly.
“Right again, by hookey! Give us your paw, Sim; we’ll stick by each other in this.”
“Yes, to death,” answered Kenton.
A firm grip of hands sealed the compact.
Then the two again concealed themselves in the bushes.
They watched and they waited.
In the Indian village, Ke-ne-ha-ha, the great Shawnee chieftain, sat in the gloom of his wigwam.
The little fire that burned in the center of the lodge cast a baleful light over the dusky face of the warrior.