Norton nodded, and with a word to Audubon, rode on. Out of all the fourteen who had thundered out of Louisville, he and his friend alone were left. To judge from his own stiffened and wearied body, Audubon must be made of iron to stand the pace.
With three led horses, they did not spare the brutes while the moonlight lasted, one of the mounts foundering an hour later. At last the moon died into the darkness preceding dawn, and with only the horses they rode left to them, they drew up for a brief rest.
"We must be hard on Henderson," said Norton shortly, lighting his pipe, for he would not sleep.
"Ten miles from there, I think," responded Audubon "There's a fork in the trail somewhere ahead. One trace goes to Henderson; the other proceeds to the river near Diamond Island, I believe."
With the first gleam of grey in the sky, they were up and off; and now as the daylight increased, Norton again urged the poor steeds to the utmost.
An hour after dawn Audubon halted him with a shout, and just beyond them he perceived that the trail bent around to the north, a fainter trail continuing from it to the left and west. He pulled up and dismounted stiffly.
"By gad! Audubon, which trail for Henderson?"
"The northern."
"Then we've got him! He's gone on to strike the river, and here are the marks where the Regulators turned off to Henderson yesterday!"
Norton leaped into his saddle and his jaded steed again took up the road. The other horse was spent, however. A mile farther on, and Norton turned at a cry to see Audubon go down.