Return Kingdom firmly believed that sooner or later the true cause and manner of Big Buffalo’s death must become known. It must be so, he argued within himself. There had been times in history when the innocent had suffered for the guilty, but the saying, “murder will out,” had been proved a true one always. Ree pinned his faith to it now. He did not so much as question how the truth would become known. In unseeing confidence he was willing to risk anything on his firm conviction that right must win and would win in the end, however slight the chance might seem.

And it is not too much to say, just here, that in after time it came to pass that all that Kingdom believed would happen, did happen; still, could he have looked forward to, and have seen the end, as he stood lonesome and nervous in the cabin door when the last of the Indians,—even Fishing Bird,—had departed, there would have been no more astonished young man in America that night.

Hopeful that Fishing Bird would come back for a talk with him when the Indians had passed into the woods and he could drop behind without his absence being noticed, Kingdom left the door ajar and sat for a long time before the smoldering embers of his fire. It was Saturday night, he reflected. There would be no work tomorrow, no hunting, no trapping. He would set off on foot, as if going for a stroll in the woods, and by traveling two sides of a triangle come at last to the old hollow whitewood and there wait for the coming of John. If the latter had made particularly good progress and had not loitered about the “big lick” too long, he should be arriving by early afternoon. Perhaps he had returned even now.

“And I’ll wager a pair of boots that he’ll be hungry enough, too!” Kingdom said to himself as he concluded his reflections; and being reminded by this that he was hungry, he ate some cold roasted venison, then looked out of the door once more for Fishing Bird, before creeping into bed.

Believing now that he had not been watched or followed after leaving the Indian town on the day of the council, Return concluded that Lone-Elk was too busy with his own affairs to spend a great deal of time spying about the clearing. Yet when he started from the cabin the following morning he traveled in a direction at right angles with that in which he wished to go, and moved very cautiously. He did not doubt that the Indians were searching for John Jerome, but concerning his own movements he reasoned that he would not be suspected of intending to go far, since he went on foot. And at the worst, if he found himself followed, he could gradually make his way home, leaving the spies no wiser than before.

For a considerable distance Kingdom walked along the old trail to the east as if he were but strolling through the woods. The day was bright and sunny and except for the raw north wind would have been of an ideal Indian summer type. Overhead great flocks of crows were cawing lustily. Eddies of the breeze whirled leaves here and there, and all in all there were many sounds abroad to drown the noise of footfalls on the soft mold and the leafy carpet of the forest.

For two miles or more Kingdom followed the irregular course of the eastward trail. Now he would turn abruptly to the north, he thought, and soon be safe from discovery in the unmarked depths of the woods. He paused and listened for a moment before leaving the path.

Hark! The sound of footfalls soft as a cat’s, but coming steadily nearer, reached the boy’s ears. He was followed.

Quick as the thought which flashed across his brain, and without noise, Kingdom stepped from the beaten trail and crouched behind a little knoll thickly overgrown with low bushes. Now if his pursuer, whoever he might be, would but pass on, he could effectually throw him off the scent before the latter discovered that his game had left the traveled path and so eluded him.

The breathless interest with which Ree listened to the approach of the stealthy footfalls can more easily be imagined than described. He had little doubt that it was Lone-Elk who was, dogging his movements. But soon he would know for certain. Whoever it was he would pass within a yard of the knoll and the brush which screened him. Would he go on by, and how far would he be likely to go before discovering that he had missed the course?

The pursuer came quickly forward. His body was bent in an eager attitude of listening and careful watchfulness, as if he would look far ahead despite the brush and trees and the low boughs which shut out his view. A hound, following a scent so faint that he might at any moment lose it, could not have been more intent or more keenly in earnest.

Listening and watching with bated breath, Kingdom saw the fellow approach and steal quickly on. It was Lone-Elk.

Hardly had the Seneca passed the spot of Kingdom’s concealment, however, than he stopped, and stooping down, placed his ear to the ground. He seemed perplexed and uncertain. For several seconds he intently listened. But at last, still doubtful apparently, but anxious lest he was allowing himself to fall too far behind, he continued on, rather faster than before.

In spite of the danger of his position, Kingdom could scarcely suppress an audible chuckle as he saw Lone-Elk outwitted; but he realized that he “laughs best who laughs last,” and without losing an instant in self-congratulation he rose and stepped into the path again. The Seneca had passed out of sight. “And so goodbye to you for this time,” the boy thought, as he listened carefully and heard nothing, then exerting himself to the utmost to move quietly, he sped back along the path in the direction from which he had come.

For a quarter of a mile Ree continued his flight, then with a sudden broad leap left the path and traveled more moderately toward the north and west. At every step through the unbroken woods he sought to avoid leaving any trail which could be followed. Too cautious and too wise to risk going straight forward to the hollow poplar, although he had every reason to believe he had completely eluded the Seneca, Kingdom loitered here and there and traveled quite a zig-zag course.

By degrees, however, he came to the vicinity he sought and, to assure himself that he was not now watched, he sat down on a big boulder to rest and listen. As he waited he felt that somehow his sense of satisfaction in having given Lone-Elk the slip was disappearing. Why was it? Had he “counted his chickens before they were hatched,” after all? The feeling grew on him that he was not alone, that somewhere near there were eyes which were on him constantly.

It is a dreadful sensation to feel that you are spied upon. Even to imagine that some one is secretly watching every breath you take, gazing intently, as if to read your very thoughts, is painful. To Kingdom, with the conviction growing in his mind that Lone-Elk had picked up his trail and had at no time been far behind him, the feeling was almost enough to unnerve him.

There was one way to determine whether this new trouble was real or imaginary, Kingdom told himself, and soon made use of it. Rising quickly, he started off at a brisk pace, looking neither to right nor left. Then, setting himself to catch the slightest sound, he suddenly stopped. A thrill ran through him. The noise he heard was unmistakable. There was a distinct rustling among the leaves. It stopped an instant after he did.

Ree well knew the wonderful power many of the Indians had for following others in the woods, especially along unbeaten trails, without revealing themselves. He knew, too, that Lone-Elk of all others was most certain to be adept in such practices. To go on to the meeting place agreed upon with John would be, therefore, the height of foolishness.

Twice again Ree stopped to harken for his pursuer’s footsteps. Once he was certain be heard them. The other time he was sure he heard nothing; but when he walked back along his own trail a little way, he was conscious of a shadow having moved among the trees in the distance, though he saw nothing more tangible.

Ree’s first impulse was to go in pursuit of the Seneca; for he did not question the identity of the spy, but thinking better of it, he resolved slowly to change his course so as to go at no time near the old poplar. He would reach the river after a time and, following its banks, eventually return to the cabin. A grievous disappointment it was to give up the meeting with John, but there was no help for it if that young gentleman’s scalp was to be kept in safety where nature placed it.

Constant as his own shadow always, Kingdom felt the Seneca’s presence steadily near him. He did not need to look around. He did not need to pause or listen. In his heart he knew the redskin was close by, as well as if they were walking side by side. He was getting into the rough and broken country now, just back from the river valley. Soon he would alter his course again to head more directly toward home.

Thus was Ree thinking when in a little gully, nearly bidden by high, precipitous banks, he suddenly beheld the ashes of a campfire and, spread upon a few broad strips of bark, something white and glistening. It couldn’t be snow. There had been none. It was salt spread out to dry.

Like a flash the thought came to Ree and with it the certain conviction that John Jerome was just out of sight in the sheltered place below, or gone, perhaps, to keep the appointment at the old poplar.

Instantly Kingdom changed his course. His whole effort now was to keep the Seneca from seeing what he had seen. He dared not run, lest he create suspicion in Lone-Elk’s mind; but he quickened his pace and held to a direction which he hoped would result in the Indian, intent only on watching him, cutting off the sharp corner he had turned and so not approaching as near to the edge of the bluff as he had done.

In his thoughts Ree scolded John Jerome sharply. What did the boy mean, anyway, by so exposing himself? What was the drying of a little salt from the “big lick” as compared to his own safety? And at a time when his very life was at stake!

At last the river was reached. Lone-Elk was still coming on behind. There could be no doubt of it. Repeatedly Kingdom had heard the gravel under his feet as the Seneca clambered down the steep banks after him.

What a change his chance discovery of John’s camp had caused, Ree thought. A little while ago he was distressed because the Indian was always coming after him. Now he would be worried, indeed, should he find that the fellow had discontinued the pursuit. If the Seneca should give up the chase now it could mean but one thing—that he, too, had seen the camping place and was going there in search of more immediate results than his present labor promised.

A variety of tactics did Ree adopt to keep the pursuing Indian interested in watching him. Often did he pause and pretend to look all about with the greatest caution, and to listen closely, as if he had come at last to the very place which he had set out to reach. Again, he would suddenly hurry forward among the trees, or dart in here or there amidst the bushes, as though trying to escape the observation of anyone who might be near.

Up to the cabin was the game played. Only when the clearing, was reached did it end. Tired, alarmed, and more or less out of spirits, as he reckoned the extent of time wasted—a large part of the day—Kingdom sat down on a shock of corn which the Delawares had upset the night before. As he did so, he caught sight of the Indian for the first time since morning. The Seneca was moving silently from tree to tree, but apparently watching all that the white boy did.

Moved by the grim humor of the long, unavailing chase he had led the redskin, Kingdom called out to the fellow:

“Hi, there, Lone-Elk, haven’t you had enough of that sort of thing for one day?”

In an instant the savage stepped into the clearing.

“Paleface is a fool,” he spoke in English, and raised his rifle menacingly.

“Put up that gun, Lone-Elk, and come sit down here! Come, sit down, and let’s talk matters over just by ourselves,” Kingdom returned in a friendly tone. The ugly manner of the Indian really alarmed him, but he took this way of concealing the fact; and, moreover, if the Seneca could be persuaded to discuss their differences just between themselves, much might be accomplished.

With a contemptuous “Ugh!” Lone-Elk threw his rifle over his arm again. But instead of accepting Kingdom’s invitation, he turned into the woods and was soon gone from sight.

Still Kingdom remained sitting on the bundle of fodder. He was thinking of John Jerome and the camp in the gully near the river. The more he reflected, the more inclined he was to believe that it was not John’s camp that he had discovered. How could John have brought salt from the “lick?” He had not had time enough to make any. That he had obtained it of some one whom he found there was possible, but hardly likely. But, on the other hand, if the camp was not John Jerome’s, whose in the world was it? Who was spreading salt to dry in the depths of the Ohio wilderness?