"None of that," broke in Norton, understanding that ominous flame in the man's eye. "We're after Blacknose, not after scalps. Just impress that on your mind and save further trouble. If you give me your help in this thing, there'll be no Indian hunting."
The big man turned his slow gaze to Norton's face, and for a moment the Louisianian expected trouble. Red Hugh stared at him; Norton met the look firmly, resolved not to compromise this matter, much as he needed the man's help and advice. At length Red Hugh nodded, reluctantly.
"I like you, Norton," he said, his grim visage softening strangely. "You're a man. You're like another Norton I once knew—well, best not to speak of that. Now as to hunting this Blacknose gang: we are more like to find them on the Indiana side. If aught went wrong with their plans, they could escape to the Indian country, or else lay the blame for their crimes on the Shawnees. There are several bands of Miamis along there, also. It may well be that through some Indians we can get trace of the gang, if naught else serves."
Upon this, they made ready to set forth at dawn. Norton discarded his own battered powderhorn for the fine red-streaked one which the assassin Tobin had formerly carried—an act which was destined to bring dire results upon himself before the game was played out. He forgot the fact that this red-streaked horn was distinguished by its very oddness and beauty.
With the dawn they set forth for the blazed cottonwood and the Ohio, carrying their rifles and a quarter of venison. Upon reaching the bluff over the river, Red Hugh turned abruptly aside and led Norton down to the wooded banks, where he presently fished out an Indian birch canoe and paddles from a clump of dense bushes. Two canoes were paddling upstream along the opposite shore, and when these were past, they put their craft in the water and started for Blue River.
The river hills ran close to the stream on each side, and except for the little group of cabins under the high rocky cliff opposite them the banks were unsettled as far as Blue River. Norton paddled easily, drinking in fresh strength with the sun-bright morning air, and could scarce realize their journey was nearly done when Red Hugh pointed to Blue River ahead. They had passed Indian Creek and two islands without sight of other river-craft, and now held in to the Kentucky shore.
"Colonel Boone's brother, Squire, began that settlement"—and Red Hugh pointed across to the clustering cabins opposite. "Now if you can see any signs of a tavern over here, you beat me."
In truth, Norton gazed at the Kentucky settlement which they were approaching, and his heart sank. Ayres must have made some mistake—yet the schoolmaster had been very explicit in his directions. The settlement consisted of two cabins, one of them fast falling to ruin; a few tobacco-drying sheds; a small section of cleared land; and a half-naked woman staring hard at them. Two or three entirely naked children appeared as they paddled in, and as the slatternly woman raised her voice, a still more slatternly man came slouching from the tobacco-sheds, rifle in hand. There was no sign of any road or ferry, and this was most certainly no tavern. Norton landed with some dismay.
"Is this the Kentucky Blue River settlement?" he inquired of the suspicious man—a loose-jawed, fever-smitten person who lacked all interest in life.
"I reckon they call it that, stranger. Who be ye?"