"What is that?"

At the question the two pioneer boys stopped abruptly. From within the forest they had heard the sound of a snapping branch. The sound itself had not been loud, but the quiet of that September day in 1773 had been sharply broken by the slight noise from the brush. For a brief time both boys listened intently and then one of them went back a short distance along the trail over which the little procession had advanced, carefully looking for signs of danger on either side.

And there was need for caution. Under the leadership of Daniel Boone five families besides his own had been making their way slowly through the unbroken wilderness from the settlement on the Yadkin in North Carolina. At Powell's Valley, through which they recently had passed, forty men had joined the little company, thereby adding greatly to its strength, and increasing the confidence of the hardy settlers.

As the little cavalcade spread out in a long line, an advance guard of five opened the way, while three rear guards, of two each at irregular intervals, were stationed to prevent surprises from the hostile Indians or attacks by the prowling beasts of prey that were wont to follow the trail of men in the wilderness.

At this time the band was crossing Powell's Mountain, and the extreme rear guard was made up of James, the oldest son of Daniel Boone, and his friend, Peleg Barnes, the latter being one of the number that had been added to the company when the settlers arrived at Powell's Valley. Persuaded that no enemy was near, the two boys resumed their positions and proceeded on their way.

Each boy was dressed in a hunting costume and wore leggings and fringed trousers made from the skin of the deer. Each also was armed with a rifle which he carried almost as naturally as if it was a part of himself. Powder-horns and bullet-pouches were swinging from their shoulders. It was manifest from the attitude and the manner of both young hunters that they were familiar with the ways of the wilderness and were alert to detect signs of the presence of friend or foe.

"I don't like that noise," suggested Peleg in a low voice. "'Tis the second time we have heard it since we have been the rear guard to-day."

His companion smiled and did not reply, and for a time Peleg also remained silent. He was a restless, dark-haired, muscular, and well-grown boy, perhaps seventeen or eighteen years of age, which also was the age of his more quiet comrade. The boys were warm friends, but like many men of the earlier days, they were prone to silence, though little that occurred in the nearby forest escaped their attention.

The wilderness through which they were advancing was almost untrodden. Confidence and hope were expressed on the rugged faces of the boys, however, for they early had learned to live in the presence of continual danger from the prowling beasts and the hostile red men.

"I never knew a man just like your father," suggested Peleg, at last breaking the silence.

"Neither did I," replied James Boone, with a smile that strongly lighted up his face, as he turned to his friend.

"He never seems to think about himself. He is taking this expedition to the land he has found because he believes it to be for our advantage for him to do so."

"He knows it is."

"I heard him tell about the wonderful sky and soil he had found there; and it must be worth while to go, else he would not be advising us to leave the Yadkin and cross all these mountains into the wilderness. I never saw such a strong man as your father is. I don't believe he has an ounce of fat on his body. Is it true that he is having a record kept of the places he has found and the journeys he has made?"

"It is."

"I should like much to see it. I can read writing, and if some time you will ask him to grant me the privilege I shall want to read what he has had written——"

Peleg stopped abruptly and grasped his companion's arm, as both boys were startled once more by the sudden snapping of a branch apparently only a few yards to the left. Instantly both were listening breathlessly, and were holding their rifles in readiness, while they peered anxiously into the brush from which the threatening sound had come.

"I declare to you," whispered Peleg, "that there is some one following us."

"Verily," whispered James Boone, although he did not turn away his eyes from the forest as he spoke.

The alarm of the two young guards was not unnatural, as has been said. On the lower slopes of the mountain great trees were growing, but as the band of emigrants had steadily climbed, the timber diminished, and even underbrush had become somewhat thinned. Still, on every side of the trail there were sufficient bushes to hide the presence of an enemy that might be following the pioneers. Both boys knew that game of many kinds abounded in the wilderness. Many a time their skill had been tested long before they had left their homes on the Yadkin.

That their perils would be increased as they withdrew into the region in which the foot of no white men except Daniel Boone and his comrade had ever trod they both were well aware. On this September day the advancing settlers had been moving in a much longer and thinner line than had been adopted the preceding day. The difficulties of the ascent and the frequent great rocks in their way made their progress over the mountain more difficult and different from the easier march through the valley on the opposite side. Only an occasional white man had been seen since they had left their homes, and there was constant fear of the red men, almost all of whom were exceedingly hostile at this time and very jealous in guarding their own domains from the incursions of the whites.

Perhaps not unnaturally most of those who were in Boone's party looked upon the Indian as a natural enemy. Few were mindful of the fact that the red men were but doing their utmost to defend their own homes and retain their hunting grounds from the trespassing whites, who, they were fearful, would soon push them from the region, unless by determined warfare the Shawnees and other neighbouring tribes might be able to prevent their entrance and settlement.

It was well known that the region into which Daniel Boone was leading his company on that September day was considered by the Indians to be the best of all their hunting grounds. There the buffalo and the deer abounded. Wild turkeys were so numerous that the report which Daniel Boone had brought scarcely had been credited by his friends. There were times in the autumn when great flocks of wild pigeons sweeping through the woods might be felled with a club by a man standing in the way of their advance. It is true that where so much game was found dangerous animals also abounded. The panther and bear were much in evidence, and prowling wolves often made the night hideous with their weird and terrifying howls.

There was no one in the advancing company who did not fully understand what the cost of seeking and making a new home in the wilderness was likely to be. Doubtless some would fall victims to the cunning of the hostile red men. Others were certain to lose their lives in attacks by the treacherous panther, the deadliest four-footed foe of the white men in the new world.

When the two young pioneers, who formed the rear guard of the slowly moving procession, resumed their advance, both were silent for a time and keenly observant of the woods on either side of the trail left by those who had preceded them. In places the autumn foliage already was tinted with scarlet or gold. The soft air of the September day became slightly cooler as the party steadily approached the higher regions of Powell's Mountain.

In the midst of such surroundings it was impossible for the young hunters long to retain their anxiety, though neither ceased his keen watchfulness.

"How old is your father?" inquired Peleg at last.

"About forty."

"I wish much to hear him tell of his adventures in this land which he says the Indian calls Kantuckee. Do you know what that word means?"

"No."

"Do you think your father is fearful the redskins may attack us before we come to the Licks, where he affirms he will make our settlement?"

"You must ask him," replied young Boone. "I do not believe he thinks that we or any other band of settlers will ever build a home in such a country as he has found without having to fight for it. Peleg, I have almost decided that one never gets anything worth having without having to fight some kind of a battle."

"That is surely so," replied Peleg, laughing softly as he spoke. "I shall never forget how Schoolmaster Hargrave had to fight to teach me to use a quill. The letters somehow would not come, not even when he set his best copy for me. He told me one day that they looked like a whirlwind in distress. I was minded several times to give up the whole attempt, but he told me to fight on, and now I am glad that I did."

"I am told that the schoolmaster later expects to come where we are going."

"So I have heard. I hope he will leave his ferrule behind. Whew! My knuckles ache now with the mention! Still he seemed to get some pleasure out of it, but——"

Peleg stopped suddenly as a faint cry was heard far in their rear. It was a sound not unlike that made by a child in distress. Weird, pathetic, startling as it was, neither of the boys was for a moment unaware of its meaning. It was the cry of a panther far in the distance.

"'What is that?' At the question the two pioneer boys stopped abruptly"

And panthers not infrequently hunted in pairs. It might be possible that two of the treacherous creatures had been following the slowly moving caravan, for slow-moving it was indeed. The children and women were carried on the backs of the horses. The few heavy wagons were dragged with difficulty over the rough ground, and many a time the entire band was compelled to halt while the men felled a tree which blocked their advance.

"I tell you," said Peleg in a whisper, "that sound we heard before was made by a painter."

"It may be true."

"Will you stay here while I go back over the trail a little way to see if I can find any signs of the varmints? It is yet too light for them to attack us, but I should like to know if there is a pair on our trail."

"Do not go far," said James Boone hesitatingly.

"You may be sure that I shall not be over-venturesome. I shall return directly."

In a moment Peleg disappeared from the sight of his companion as he lightly and yet swiftly sped back over the way by which they had come.

Left alone, young Boone seated himself upon a fallen tree and awaited the return of his companion. Holding his rifle lightly in his hands after he had carefully looked to its priming, he was keenly observant of all about him. He had been disturbed more than he had acknowledged to Peleg by the sounds which they had heard. He had known of instances in which a panther had trailed a man for many hours. The conjecture of Peleg that a pair of the hated beasts might be following the slowly moving settlers was not improbable.

As the moments passed the anxiety of the young hunter for his companion increased. No sound to alarm him had broken in upon the silence, and yet somehow the son of the great pioneer scout was anxious for his friend.

Rising from his seat he ran swiftly in the direction in which Peleg had gone. In a few moments he discovered his friend standing beneath a spreading chestnut and holding his gun in such a manner that it was manifest that he had heard some sound to alarm him. A huge panther crouched upon the limb of the chestnut tree, almost directly above the place where Peleg was standing.