Besides the much traveled path extending south from the river on which the cabin of the youthful pioneers was situated, to the main branch of the Muskingum, there was another thoroughfare of the Indians in the vicinity. The general direction of its course was east and west. This trail was not used a great deal, but it was, for the most part, along its route that the two boys had first made their way into the Ohio wilds two years before. At occasional intervals Delawares and others followed this path in traveling toward Fort Pitt, or in journeying from that point to Sandusky and the country of the Wyandots near the lake, farther to the west or to the Maumee which lay beyond.

At a distance of two days’ journey eastward from the cabin on the Cuyahoga, a branch of this trail forked off and led on to a much frequented “salt lick” or spring of salty water, near the Mahoning river. To this “lick” the Indians came from far and near to make salt. Settlers came from great distances, also, especially in later years, to boil the waters of the springs, and Kingdom and Jerome had known of the place for a long time.

Having first heard of the “big lick” from the Delawares, the boys had verified the information so obtained by talking with hunters and traders. Often had they planned to visit the place. During the winter, when work in their clearing was less pressing, they frequently had said they would obtain a year’s supply of salt for themselves. But that was before trouble had come to them. What they would do now must depend entirely upon future developments.

Kingdom saw no good reason for John’s proposed trip to the “lick,” but neither did he see a reason for not going; besides, maybe it would be better for Jerome to be away from the locality in which such grave danger threatened him, and the more especially so in view of the temptation he would have to try to find the secret lead mine of the outcast Seneca.

Thus the two friends parted. Kingdom had already lost much time. He feared being late at the council he was to have with Captain Pipe’s principal people and much as he would have liked to go a little way with John, he felt that he must hurry directly to the cabin.

No sooner was Ree gone from the hollow whitewood, however, than John Jerome found interest in the trip to the “lick” suddenly lagging. It was one thing to talk to his bosom friend about the undertaking, but quite another to sit solitary and alone pondering upon its hardships. But he was in for it now. It most certainly would not do to give up. Kingdom would not expect to see him for four or five days at least, and he would be alone for that length of time anyway, he reflected. Thus in a measure he restored his first enthusiasm for the journey he had so impulsively suggested, and ten minutes later was on the way.

To have followed the old trail which led toward the salt spring would have been, from John’s starting point, considerably out of his way. It lay much to the south. To travel through the unbroken woods would be harder but it would likewise be safer and the latter was an important point to consider. So through the woods, setting himself to make nearly a bee line to the east, the lonesome young woodsman tramped. Sleep and food had much refreshed him after the labor and the adventures of the night, however, and except for the sense of loneliness and something of worry and anxiety concerning Kingdom’s safety, which hung heavily upon his thoughts, he would have been in fine spirits.

John was quite familiar with that portion of the woods which he was now traversing. It was not far from here that he had been held captive in the cave where dwelt Duff and Dexter. Over to the right a mile or so was the spot where the unscrupulous Duff, himself, had been forced to surrender and beg for his very life. On ahead was the little lake where Captain Brady had hidden, a number of years before. John and Ree had hunted up the place one time, just to see the spot after hearing of Brady’s wonderful leap and exciting adventure from some settlers near Fort Pitt.

The leaves underfoot and all the great forest stretching away for miles on every side were still wet from the drenching rain of the previous night. Any trail made the day before must needs have been well marked or all traces of it would be now obliterated. John thought of this as in the course of the day’s travel he twice came upon signs which seemed to tell of some person or persons having passed through much the same portion of the wilds as he was traveling, within a few days at most. One sign of this kind was a freshly cut mark of a hatchet upon a great, smooth-barked beech. Another was the presence of one small stone beside a large one and a small quantity of hickory nut shells.

No thought of danger because of these indications that there were other travelers in the woods came to Jerome. The mark upon the beech tree might have been made by anyone, white man or red. It merely showed that some one had recently been there. Likewise the nut shells may have been left by a chance hunter or even by a party of them. Still, having found these signs, and feeling quite interested in discovering more of them, some which might reveal more definite facts perhaps, as the ashes of a campfire, for example, John looked keenly in all directions as he tramped on and on. But he saw nothing and the necessity of searching for something he deemed more important—a safe and comfortable place to spend the night—caused him to turn his thoughts to other things as the short fall day drew early to a close.

A tangled mass of wild grapevines hanging over a little gully, and sheltering it alike from wind and rain, seemed to offer a good prospect, but turned out a disappointment. The ground, on being inspected, proved exceedingly wet. So on John went. Once he paused beside the thickly spreading branches of a maple, which had been uprooted by some summer storm, and contemplated lying down among the leaves the breezes had collected there. But he shook his head and passed by.

“Why the very mischief I ever thought of coming on this wild goose chase I don’t know, I vow!” the young wayfarer grumbled to himself, with a grim frown.

He was thinking of the snug little log house and the warm supper and warm bed he might have had in prospect. Even the shelter of the projecting ledge of rock, whose protection he had had the night before, seemed very attractive now. “And the old hollow poplar, that would be quite a lord mayor’s mansion, for a fact it would!” he told himself. “But there’s no use fussing for what you haven’t got and can’t have,” he added, with a philosophy which many an older man has never learned, and walked on the faster.

Only once or twice before had John spent a night in the open woods without Kingdom for company, and though he was not afraid, he dreaded the hours of darkness and the lonesome, cheerless night now just before him more and more as the shadows thickened.

“Howl away, you pesky rascals! Howl away! But you don’t know what you’re howling for!” he burst out almost spitefully as the yelping of wolves reached his ears. “I’m not going to climb a tree on your account—not if I don’t have to,” he added, making the latter saving clause barely audible, even to himself.

A strange place for a night’s rest it was which John selected at last as a final choice. “But,” as he reasoned with his protesting, tired-out body, “you’ve got to take what you can get and take it mighty quick at that, if you are going to see what you’re getting.”

The resting place thus selected was a chestnut tree which sent out four branches a few feet above the ground, each as large as an ordinary tree, and each spreading broadly in a different direction from the others. The effect was to form at the place from which the branches projected a seat by no means uncomfortable and having the advantage of being high and dry, at least. Indeed, John found that by sitting astride of one great limb and leaning against another, he not only maintained his balance easily but rested comparatively well. With his blanket wrapped round him and over his head like a hood, he ate his supper of dried venison, wished he had a drink, decided it was too much trouble to go for one, fell to thinking of the absurdity of Lone-Elk’s accusations and drifted off to sleep.

Before morning John felt severely the effects of being so long in one position, but nothing worse disturbed him. He heard wild creatures of the forest all about at different times in the night, but even had human eyes come very close they would hardly have seen in the thick darkness the solitary figure perched in the chestnut’s forks. But it was a genuine luxury to be on the ground and feel the cushions of leaves-underfoot once more; and so it was, while he strode steadily forward, facing always the east, that John ate his meager breakfast.

Watchful as he always was to obtain fresh clues to the presence of others than himself in any portion of the woods, John still found nothing to interest him particularly. In the afternoon he came upon a runway of the deer, and confident from its general trend that it led toward the salt springs, he followed it. He came upon various indications that the path had been used by two-footed as well as four-footed creatures. Once he found the skeleton of a large buck. Near by was a sapling which had been bent down over the path, and a long withe made into a noose close at hand, showed how the poor creature died.

None of the things he saw, however, conveyed to John any thought but that he must be nearing the salt “lick” now; and that perhaps he would find some one there, and would do well to be very careful as he approached, not knowing whom he might find, and being somewhat particular who might find him.

Even when he picked up a buckskin glove with spatters of blood upon it beside the runway, John had no presentiment of what was to come. He only muttered: “White folks at the spring now, or have been there not long ago, at least. Settlers, probably. You don’t catch anybody else putting on mittens before it has even snowed. What a big hand he had!”

The concluding exclamation followed the trying on of the glove. It was, indeed, a large one, and because of its size and not knowing just where to carry it, John was inclined to throw it down by the path and leave it; but he reconsidered and tucked the buckskin in his belt. He found it there, convenient for reference, when a decidedly startling discovery somewhat later brought the glove very forcibly to his recollection.

The runway of the deer brought the boy at last to a considerable stream which he rightly guessed to be the river, known to the Indians then and to everyone now as the Mahoning. The path skirted its banks for some distance, then turned into the woods again, leading on to the springs of slightly salty water which lay at no great distance.

Only by hard traveling had John reached the place before nightfall, but he was thankful for his rare good fortune in doing so. To spend several hours at least in locating the “lick,” after he had come fairly into its vicinity, was what he had expected, and now to come directly to the spot was indeed lucky. He had never seen the place before but he could not doubt the evidence that lay on every hand. Indeed, he was greatly surprised to find so many indications that the springs were often visited.

They lay in an open space of two or three acres, grown up to low bushes and rank grass, save for the paths where the ground had been tramped bare by the deer and other animals. In several places were the ashes of long-deserted campfires. Near the border of the clearing were two or three rough, quickly-erected log cabins. But these also, were deserted, and toppling over from neglect. The spring or springs—for the water seemed to bubble forth in two or three places—were enclosed by heavy planks, hewed from whole trees, forming a vat nearly six paces square, as John measured it, and rather more than three feet deep. This vat was sunk in the ground and as the astonished young visitor lay down to drink from it, what was his surprise to discover two large iron kettles at its bottom, plainly visible in the clear, sparkling water.

With rare interest the young explorer looked upon his discoveries. Another thing which much attracted him were pits that had been dug as hiding places by hunters, wherein they lay in wait for the coming of deer to the springs at night. These may have been the work of white men or of Indians, for it was not many miles, John knew, to the old Indian village which he had heard called Mahoning Town. He doubted if many Indians lived there, now, however,—not more than one or two families at most he thought—for at this distance from the border, the homes of the Mingoes, which once had been occupied, were already falling to ruins. The inhabitants of the villages had moved farther into the wilderness or were scattered and there seldom remained so much as a dog to bark at strangers.

John was somewhat disappointed to find no white person or persons near, and no sign that any had been there since the rain of the second night before, at least. But it was lucky, on the other hand, that he found no hostile Indians there, and just at that time it would have been pretty hard to tell which redskins were hostile and which were not, unless one personally knew them.

So, having satisfied himself that neither friend nor foe was in the vicinity, the interested young discoverer again drank heartily of the spring’s very pleasant waters and then calmly sat down at some little distance to rest and survey the situation more leisurely than he had done at first.

The salt “lick” or spring was somewhat to one side of a wide, shallow valley. The extent to which the vicinity had been frequented had caused many trees and much brush to be cleared away, as in the course of time they had been burned and chopped down to provide wood for the making of salt or the building of huts. The effect was to make the woods quite open all about the little clearing. But, notwithstanding, it was a very desolate, lonely spot. The wind blew in a most melancholy manner and the impression came to John that the springs were haunted. Surely if ghosts ever appeared anywhere in the whole vast wilderness, here was a place which seemed the very one at which they would assemble. But it was for the sake of security from being found by living visitors to the “lick” that the lad decided he would do well to go farther into the forest to spend the night. This he did, and as it was now dusk, he sought a safe resting place with great eagerness.

Knowing that creatures of all sorts would be likely to come to the spring after darkness set in—even buffalos, though they were exceedingly rare in these parts, John was well aware—the lad had no excuse to make to his courage in looking for a tree which would offer a comfortable perch. This he failed to find, but high up on the hillside to the east of the “lick” he found, as he searched further, a rude shack or shelter built up with poles and brush, probably by salt boilers. At least there was a considerable bed of ashes in front of the open side of the brush wind-shield, and under cover and comparatively dry was a bed of small boughs, leaves and long, wild grass, such as grew in the valley below.

The effect of this discovery upon John Jerome was to make him feel quite at home. The dreary prospect of spending an uncomfortable night vanished. If others had found it safe to have a campfire and sleep like civilized mortals, why should not he? A campfire and all the comforts of the brush house should be his, he instantly decided, let the consequences be what they might. So the next half hour was busily spent in gathering firewood.

With dry leaves and powder and the exercise of patience, born of the days which knew not matches, John kindled his fire. He chose not to risk more than a small blaze, however, and by starting it very close to the front of the shack made its ruddy glow scarcely visible from one direction, at least. The principal advantage of this was in having the fire close to him as he lay on the bed of tender boughs; still he was glad to think that he was “being prudent,” as Return Kingdom would wish him to be, though he smiled at the thought.

Good, honest fatigue and a clear conscience put John to sleep early, despite the troubled state of his mind whenever he thought of his enforced absence from the only home he had. If prowlers of any kind, man or beast, were near him while darkness lasted, he did not know it. He awoke to find the dawn breaking and, knowing that he must soon start back to keep his appointment with Ree, set out at once for another inspection of the salt spring and its surroundings.

How he chanced to come upon it or what prompted him to pause before it, there is no necessity of telling, but certain it is that when about to leave the spring, John found at a distance of forty rods to the west of the “lick,” on a slight rise of ground, a pile of brush in the midst of a sumac thicket.

“How did it get there and what’s the purpose of it?” he asked himself, wondering if it were not a trap for wild turkeys.

With a determination to find an answer to his questions, he pushed in among the bushes and pulled the low brush pile to one side.

A ghastly sight confronted him. Dead, their skins discolored, their clothing hanging loosely on their gaunt bodies, stiff and cold, their scalps gone, were two men—two young men—who, it was evident, had come from the settlements.