“But they still run,” said Shif’less Sol. “The new ones hev ketched all the terror an’ superstition that the old ones feel, an’ the whole crowd is off fur the Ohio. Look how the trail widens!”
“And Braxton Wyatt is beginning to feel better,” said Henry. “His own particular trail does not waver so much now. Ah, they’ve stopped here for a council. Braxton probably stood on that old fallen log and addressed them, because the traces of his footsteps lead directly to it. Yes, the bark here is rubbed a little, where he stood. They gathered in a half circle before him, as their footprints show very plainly, and they listened to him respectfully. He, being white, was recovering from the superstitious terror, but the Shawnees were still under its spell. After hearing him they continued their flight. Here goes their trail, all in a bunch, straight toward the north!”
“An’ thar won’t be no stop ’til they strike the Ohio,” said Shif’less Sol with conviction.
“I agree with you,” said Henry.
“And so do all of us,” said Paul.
“And of course we follow on,” said Henry, “right to the water’s edge!”
“We do,” said the others all together.
“The Ohio isn’t very far now,” said Henry.
“Ten or fifteen miles, p’raps,” said Shif’less Sol.
“And it’s likely that we’ll find a big force gathered there.”