“We will reach the Cuyahoga river within two weeks if we have good luck, Ree,” said John. “That will give us all the time we need to get our corn harvested, if there is any of it left, and to get our little house all in good shape for winter before cold weather comes.”
“I think we will be able to gather some nuts, there are plenty of hickory-nuts and butternuts, too, along the river and back among the hills.”
So with the most hopeful conversation the boys passed the time. Had they fully realized the dangers which would surround them they could not have been so care-free. They knew that they must keep their wits about them and their eyes open wide, and this they did; but they were far from expecting the adventures which were in store for them.
The roads east of Pittsburg had been scarcely worthy of the name, but west of that frontier settlement there were practically none. Neb—short for Nebuchadnezzar—the big black horse the lads drove, had all he could do in many instances to pull the well loaded cart up the little hills which were encountered, and through the swampy places which must now and then be crossed. The trail followed was the same as that taken by the boys upon their previous journey West, the preceding fall, and the work done at that time in opening a roadway where it was impossible otherwise for the cart to pass, stood them in good stead now. But at best their progress was slow, and Colonel Boquet, whose famous Indian expedition many years earlier, traveled in part the same course as that these two sons of Connecticut were now taking, moved as fast as they did, though he made but from seven to ten miles a day.
For several miles, soon after leaving Pittsburg, the trail the boys followed kept them close to the Ohio river. There they discovered the tracks of a horse which had preceded them. Rightly they guessed that the hoof prints were those of the steed of the mysterious stranger who had called himself Theodore Hatch.
“I wish we could overtake him,” said John, speaking of the tracks they saw.
“It is strange that he should be going into this country alone and with practically no baggage,” said Kingdom. “I can’t make out what he’s up to, unless it be true that he is a British agent. Of course it might be that he is a missionary going to the Moravian villages, but he did not look much like one.”
“I should say not. He looked like a soldier, I thought—an army officer dressed up as a Quaker.”
The prospect that the boys might fall in with the mysterious stranger seemed to increase daily. Though he undoubtedly traveled faster than they, it was apparent that he was pursuing the same general course as themselves and much the same trail. They saw places where he had encamped for the night, and often during the day the tracks of his horse. Still there was nothing to indicate the man’s identity.
It was late in the afternoon of the sixth day after leaving Pittsburg. The young travelers had found level land and comparatively easy traveling that day, and having gone a long distance, were casting about for a camping place.