"We saw your fire blazin' through the twilight, an' came up just in
time to see the Injuns make off."

"Might they not hide in the bushes and shoot us?" asked Will, who had
listened to many a border story at Fort Pitt. "It seems as if we'd
make good targets in this light."

The gravity of the woodsman's face relaxed.

"You will pursue them?" asked Helen.

"They've melted into the night-shadows long ago," he replied. "Who was
your guide?"

"I hired him at Fort Pitt. He left us suddenly this morning. A big
man, with black beard and bushy eyebrows. A bit of his ear had been
shot or cut out," Sheppard replied.

"Jenks, one of Bing Legget's border-hawks."

"You have his name right. And who may Bing Legget be?"

"He's an outlaw. Jenks has been tryin' to lead you into a trap. Likely
he expected those Injuns to show up a day or two ago. Somethin' went
wrong with the plan, I reckon. Mebbe he was waitin' for five Shawnees,
an' mebbe he'll never see three of 'em again."

Something suggestive, cold, and grim, in the last words did not escape
the listeners.