The difference in horses was instantly apparent to Norton. Although he urged the beasts relentlessly, when darkness fell they had caught no further glimpse of Duvai. Even his desperate frenzy was forced to give way before the gathering shadows.
"Hold up or you'll be brained," cried Audubon as a bough nearly took Norton out of the saddle. "This is rank madness, man!"
The Louisianian refused to listen, but pressed on. Five minutes later his horse went down in a mud-hole, its leg broken, while he himself received a nasty fall against a stump.
Sobered by the pain and the shaking-up, he shot the poor beast and mounted his spare steed, riding on at a slower pace and in gloomy silence For an hour the three proceeded more slowly, until a glimmering against the horizon announced the rising moon.
"Duval is in the same boat," observed Audubon. "We can be sure that he'll keep the trail, for it's his only hope."
Norton did not reply. Duval must keep to the "trace" indeed; unless he passed Henderson ahead of them he was lost. His only hope lay in meeting his own gang or else in getting down the river ahead of his pursuers by means of a boat or canoe.
When the moon came up at length, Norton renewed the chase at a gallop, and the freshened horses responded nobly to his urgings. It was sheer madness to go sweeping through the dark woods at that pace, but Norton was far past caring.
"Kitty Grigg! Kitty Grigg!"
The name pounded through his heart with the pound of the hoofs on the dew-wet turf. He was just changing saddles at midnight, when the Scotchman drew up alongside, spent.
"Take my fresh horse, Mr Norton. This beastie o' mine is done, and I'll be done, too, in anither hour."