Having plenty of money, Norton called one of the negroes loafing in the sun and ordered his horse saddled, then went down the street to the store of Audubon & Rosier, where he found the junior partner and purchased a few supplies. As he was leaving, Rosier leaned over the counter with a cautious glance at the door.
"Your pardon, sir I believe your name is Norton?"
"It is, sir," returned the surprised Louisianian.
"Colonel Taylor spoke to me of you," went on the other rapidly. "You may rely upon us absolutely, sir. If by chance you meet my partner somewhere in the woods, do not fear to trust him. He is slightly touched in the head, but save for his long wanderings is—" A man passed outside, and without a change in his low tone Rosier continued. "As I was saying, sir, General Harrison can control the Indians excellently——"
Norton took the hint and passed out with a nod, storing away in his mind the name of the senior partner, Audubon. It occurred to him that if he was joining forces with a hermit Indian-slayer and a schoolmaster, a half-crazed merchant who evidently spent his time wandering in the woods would make a good third.
Returning to the tavern, he found it deserted in front, though a murmur of loud voices came from the dining-room. It seemed slightly odd that dinner was not yet over, but he went to his room, got his things, and after some search located Bower's daughter in the kitchens. He paid her his bill, then went around to the front for his horse.
Now John Norton was no fool, as may have been previously inferred. Despite his respect for the law, Ayres's words had set his nerves on edge, in conjunction with what had happened that day. Like all woodsmen, he much preferred danger in the woods to danger in the town; as he tied his purchases and rifle to his saddle, he found himself glancing nervously over his shoulder. And even as he set foot in the stirrup, he paused.
There was a horrible shuffling step from the doorway behind, and he whirled, hand on knife, to see the big hairy riverman clutching the door-post. The giant's face was terribly convulsed, and one hand gripped at a knife-haft whose blade was buried in his side. Barely had Norton comprehended, when the man pulled the knife free, coughed, and fell dead. With the same instant there rose a shrill yell from the doorway behind, and men came crowding out.
"There he is! Thar's the murderer!" went up the shout. "Git him, boys!"
A pistol flashed, and the ball sang past Norton's ear. Dodging behind his horse, he realized everything in a flash; Ayres's prediction had proved terribly true, and what was worse, the murderers were trying to fasten the crime on him. More, they were trying to kill him before he had a chance to deny his guilt. Whether Duval's work or not——