The man whose canoe they now held had undoubtedly been one of the Blacknose gang, and Norton strongly believed he had been one of a cordon of spies stretched at intervals along the river. Were this the case, the conflagration would be noticed, the man's body might be found, and the gang would waste no more warnings. Norton's one hope lay in getting ashore unobserved, pre-supposing the river to be watched; if the flatboat ran in close to the wooded Kentucky shore, he and Audubon might land unobserved by anyone who watched from a distance. The river seemed deserted, save for the distantly smoking canebrake far behind. Whether there were any Blacknose spies aboard the flatboat could not be told.
So, with fresh ammunition and weapons and with rifles well-oiled, Norton and Audubon stood in the bow as the ungainly flatboat swept into an eddy and approached the well-wooded bank. On the opposite shore, the rocky cliff with its cabin below was still a trifle down-stream; above them rose a bluff, a solid mass of virgin timber that stretched through to Tennessee with cabins scattered in its depths. Save at Henderson and Louisville, the Kentucky shore was poorly settled as yet, Shawnee raids from the Wabash having discouraged too ambitious families.
The boat swept in to the bank, almost underneath a huge cottonwood, and with a hasty farewell to the river-captain, the two men leaped ashore and lost no time in reaching the summit of the bluff.
It was a harder task than it looked, however, and a good twenty minutes had passed when at length the two panting men gained the crest of the bluff and paused to rest. Norton knew he was in bad shape and conjectured that malaria had touched him, for the uncleared lands along the Ohio were notorious in this respect. With all his stubborn will set upon reaching Red Hugh, he tightened his lips and said nothing to Audubon of his reeling senses and disordered vision.
The flatboat was already far on her way to Henderson, once more hugging the Indiana shore. Norton motioned Audubon to lead the way, and in five minutes they struck upon a faint trail which ran along the crest of the bluffs.
"Well, the Indians had their uses after all," sighed Audubon, as they came upon it. "Whew! That was a stiff climb, Norton! Now where is this blazed tree of yours?"
Norton collected himself into coherency.
"Directly opposite that cliff on the Indiana shore—a big cottonwood, blazed north and south. We head straight south from it to reach Red Hugh's cabin."
"Well, we're not opposite that cliff yet. Come along!"
The trail ascended the bluff-crest toward a knoll which topped it. Norton caught himself staggering more than once; his wounds throbbed and ached, and his brain seemed on fire. None the less, he knew he was in no mortal danger, and was filled with a grim satisfaction over the events of that morning.