"Yep. That's it. See here, Norton: I fit Injuns all my life and I ain't quit yet, but my hide's got to feelin' good on my back. Now I'm goin' to help you, but I ain't goin' to hunt them river pirates. I ain't ripe to die, not by a good ways! No, sir! I'm a God-fearin' man, Norton, and I ain't huntin' after trouble."
"What do you mean?" queried the perplexed Norton, taken utterly aback by the old man's attitude. "What can I count on——"
"You listen here." Boone's blue eyes wandered off among the trees as he spoke. "I ain't afeard o' no man livin', but I got a wife to pervide for. Now, we'll go down to the tavern and I'll bring you a feller who knows the hull country around here and who'll act as go-betwixt for anything you want. How you fixed on the military end?"
"I've letters to General Harrison from General Wilkinson, which will allow me to make use of the militia if I wish. Why?"
"Well, you 'tend to the military yourself an' listen here." Boone leaned over and dropped his voice, his eyes still on the trees. "Ye know where Blue River runs into the Ohio? Well, forty-five mile down the river from here, an' twelve mile this side o' Blue River, there's a big rocky cliff on the Injianny shore, with a cabin an' mebbe more cabins under it. But you stay on the Kaintuck side, mind. D'reckly opposite that cliff, ye'll find a big cottonwood blazed north an' south. Head right south from that there tree, an' in less'n two mile you'll find a cabin. That's where Red Hugh lives. Go an' find him if he's there; if he ain't, wait till he comes back. Tell him 'bout me sending ye, and ask fer help if ye need it."
"Who's Red Hugh?" demanded Norton, wondering.
"That's more'n I can tell ye." And Boone shook his head. "I've knowed him off an' on hard on twenty year. He raises crops there, an' goes on reg'lar spring an' fall hunts after Injuns. They killed off his fam'ly, I reckon, an' God ain't softened his heart yet—though He will some day, I reckon. He most gen'rally does— Lay down! Quick!"
The last three words shot out with vehement force; instinctively, Norton obeyed the swift gesture and ducked forward. Something sang over his head, almost brushing his hair; there came a crack on the wind, and he looked up to see a little drift of white rise from a clump of cottonwoods a hundred yards away.
Before he quite realized what had happened, the rifle was torn out of his hand and Boone was sighting. The flint fell uselessly, and with a muttered curse the old frontiersman slipped from his horse and ran for the trees whence had come the shot. Norton, now comprehending, was after him instantly.
Active though he was, he had hard work keeping up with Boone. Together they gained the trees, to find nothing more than a slight tinge of powder on the air, until Boone leaned over the ground, pointing.