He shook the rein, and the long-legged young horse brandished its heels in most exuberant fashion. The boy waved his hand to the two men.
“Good-bye,” said he. Then to Boone, “Going to be at the games to-morrow, Mr. Boone?”
“Maybe,” said the backwoodsman.
“Come along,” suggested Noll. “Maybe something’ll happen that’ll please you.”
Boone looked at the strong young figure sitting the fiery horse so easily, the clear eyes, the confident smile. And his bronzed face wrinkled in a laugh of pleasure.
“Well, Noll,” said he, “I’ll go. But mind you this: I’ll expect something more than I saw a year ago.”
“I can promise you that, anyhow,” said the boy. “And maybe there’ll be more. Good-bye.”
And with that he rode forward along the river trail, while Daniel Boone and Colonel Henderson turned their horses’ heads in the opposite direction. A mile further on Noll overtook Gray Lizard plodding on with the help of his long staff. The magician gave the boy a sidelong glance as he passed; but Noll did not check the lope of his horse, pushing on until he reached a place where a second trail branched away from the river, winding among the huge forest trees and losing itself in the billowing ocean of foliage.
He struck into this, and after an hour’s riding came in sight of a well-built log house, surrounded by broad fields, from which the crops had lately been harvested.
Before the cabin door sat a tall, lank boy in a hunting shirt, busily engaged in cleaning a long flint-locked rifle. At the sound of the rapid hoof-beats he looked up. Recognizing Oliver, who was still some distance off, he waved his hand in greeting; then he turned his head and spoke to some one within the cabin.