His defection left the little company without a leader; and though they were determined not to give up the enterprise, an obstacle to its prosecution arose, in the fact that no one was willing to replace the absent captain. Each was anxious to play the part of a private, and all had come prepared to discharge the duties of the expedition, to the utmost of their ability. But they were all young men, and no one felt competent to take the responsibility of command.
They were standing in a group, consulting eagerly about their course, and, as one of them afterward said, “nearly at their wits' end,” when the circle was suddenly entered by another. He had come upon them so noiselessly, and they had been so much absorbed in their council, that no one saw him until he stood in their midst. Several of them, however, at once recognised him, as a hunter who had recently appeared in the southern part of the county, and had lived a singularly solitary life. No one knew his name, but, from his mode of life, he was already known among those who had heard of him, as “the wild hunter.” He was but little above the medium height, and rather slender in figure; but he was well and firmly built, and immediately impressed them with the idea of great hardihood and activity. His face, though bronzed by exposure, was still handsome and expressive; but there was a certain wildness in the eye, and a compression about the mouth, which gave it the expression of fierceness, as well as resolution. He was dressed in a hunting-shirt and “leggings” of deer-skin, fringed or “fingered” on the edges; and his head and feet were covered, the one by a cap of panther's hide, and the others by moccasins of dressed buckskin. At his belt hung a long knife, and in his hand he carried a heavy “Kentucky rifle.”
As he entered the circle, he dropped the breech of the latter to the ground, and, leaning calmly upon the muzzle, quietly surveyed the countenances of the group, in profound silence. The regulators were too much surprised to speak while this was going on; and the stranger seemed to be in no haste to open the conversation. When he had finished his scrutiny, however, he stepped back a pace or two, and resuming his easy attitude, addressed them:—
“You must pardon me, my friends,” he commenced, “when I tell you, that I have overheard all you have said in the last half hour. I did not remain in that thicket, however, for the purpose of eaves-dropping; but having accidentally heard one of you mention a name, the sound of which touches a chord whose vibrations you can not understand, I remained, almost against my own will, to learn more. I thus became acquainted with the object of your meeting, and the dilemma in which you find yourselves placed by the absence of your leader. Now, I have but little interest in this settlement, and none in the preservation of peace, or the vindication of law, anywhere: but I have been seeking this man, Cutler, of whom you spoke, nearly nine years. I supposed, a few days ago, that I had at last found him; but on going to his house, I learned that he had once more emigrated toward the west. You seem to know where he is to be found, and are without a leader: I wish to find him, and, if you will accept my services, will fill the place of your absent captain!”
He turned away as he finished, allowing them an opportunity for consultation among themselves. The question was soon decided: they called him back—announced their willingness to accept him as their leader—and asked his name.
“My name is Stone,” he replied.
It was after nightfall when the little party set out from the bluff. They had, then, more than eight miles to travel, over a country entirely destitute of roads, and cut up by numberless sloughs and ponds. They had, moreover, a considerable river to cross, and, after that, several miles of their way lay through a dense and pathless forest. But they were not the men to shrink from difficulties, at any time; and now they were carried along even more resolutely, by the stern, unwavering spirit of their new leader. Having once learned the direction, Stone put himself at the head of the party, and strode forward, almost “as the bird flies,” directly toward the point indicated, regardless of slough, and swamp, and thicket. He moved rapidly, too—so rapidly, indeed, as to tax the powers of some of his followers almost too severely. Notwithstanding this swiftness, however, they could not avoid a long delay at the river; and it was consequently near midnight, when, having at last accomplished a crossing, they reached the bank of M'Kee's creek, and turned up toward Cutler's house.
This stood in the centre of a “clearing,” some two or three acres in extent; and upon reaching its eastern limit, the little company halted to reconnoitre. Notwithstanding the lateness of the hour, they discovered that the people of the house were still awake; and by a bright light, which streamed through the open door, they could see several men, sitting and standing about the room.
“We shall make a good haul,” said one of the regulators; “the whole gang is there.” And immediately the party were for rushing forward. But Stone restrained them.
“My friends,” said he, “you have taken me for your leader, and must obey my directions.”