Both smokes were before him, almost in a direct line. Hastily advancing to the opposite swell, he crept along until he could look down into the valley. From a small grove of trees beside a tiny creek, arose the smoke. Even as he looked, a body of horsemen filed out into the open ground. A wild cheer broke from his lips, and leaping up, Boone ran forward, waving his hand as a signal.
The party instantly halted and seemed about to turn back into the grove, but then appeared to recognize the comer as a white man. Breathlessly Boone gained their side, but not until he spoke did they recognize him. Black mud had dried upon his face and hair. His skin, what little was visible, was burned to a blister, blackened with smoke. A more deplorable looking object could scarcely be imagined.
Amid their hasty questions, the eyes of Boone were anxiously fixed upon the smoke-column beyond the prairie. Reason told him that Lightfoot was too good a scout to kindle such a beacon when so many enemies roamed through the country. Abel Dare might have done it, but was he there? Boone doubted it.
"Boys," he said, speaking hurriedly, "I believe that smoke means danger to a friend of ours—one true as steel, though his skin is red. I mean Lightfoot, the Kickapoo chief. Will you lend a hand, or must I go alone?"
"Nary 'lone—not much!" cried Jim Fosdick. "You think the reds is at the devil's work over thar—wal, we jest kum out skelp-huntin', an' these 'll do as well 's any others, 'specially as we kin save a fri'nd by wipin' 'em out. What say, boys—be I right?"
Every voice was raised in assent, and then Boone leaped up behind the lightest weight, and gave the word for hard riding. From the next valley they heard rifle-shots coming from the direction of the smoke. Upon the next ridge human voices were borne to his ear; the yelling of exultant savages. And the smoke grew blacker and blacker, rising in a tall, sloping pillar.
The party grew more excited. Knife-points were used as spurs. Snorting with pain and excitement, the horses thundered on at break-neck speed. The prairie was passed, the timber began, the ground grew more broken; but the smoke-column now floated above their heads.
"'Light and tie," cried Boone, leaping to the ground. "We kin go faster now afoot, an' the horses' hoofs would tell the heathen we was comin'."
Rapidly the settlers obeyed, and then hastened across a densely-wooded ridge. From its summit Boone saw that his fear was well-founded. From the hill that crowned the cave, the smoke arose. The red flames were bursting from the hollow tree. And seemingly standing amidst the roaring fire, was a human figure!
Down the hill they glided, across the valley, then up to the last belt of bushes, unheard, unseen by the yelling demons above. As their rifles cracked, a wild cry broke from their lips. The human form leaped out from the tree, its garments ablaze, holding a flaming bow in one hand. Down—down, until it reached the ground, with a dull, sullen thud!