My fear that the girl was being led into an ambush threw me into a fine sweat; and I pushed on the faster. I reviewed all the circumstances which would preclude the possibility of an Indian attack on the three travelers. There could be no Indians between Dunlap's and Howard's. Black Hoof's losses at the Grisdol cabin, the venomous hatred of young Cousin stalking them day and night and the appearance of Baby Kirst would surely hasten their retreat. But there would obtrude the terrible possibility of a few raiders hiding along the trace, determined to strengthen their medicine with more white scalps. But never once did I count in favor of the girl Dale's boasted friendship with the Shawnees. Even my most visionary listing of assets could not include that. I made a night-camp half-way across the mountains and dined on cold provisions procured from the Greenwoods. The morning brought optimism. By this time the girl was safe in the Davis cabin. I finished my prepared food and resumed my journey. I had covered a mile when a mounted figure turning a twist in the trace ahead sent me to the ground. The two of us struck the ground at about the same moment. Our rifles slid across the saddles as if we were puppets worked by the same string. Then a voice called out: "I won't shoot if you won't." Of course he was white. "Jesse Hughes!" I exclaimed, vaulting into the saddle. "These are queer hunting-grounds for you." Then in sudden terror, "Are the Indians back here in the mountains?" "Devil take worse luck! No," he grumbled as he trotted to meet me. "I'm going out to Greenwood's to see if I can't git a few shoots of powder." "Have you seen Ericus Dale, the trader?" I anxiously asked. "Yes, I seen the fool. He was making the creek when I come off. His gal was with him and John Ward. Come pretty nigh potting that Ward feller. He's a white man, but I can't git it out of my noodle that he ain't a' Injun." "How did Dale's girl stand the journey?" The query surprised him, and he looked puzzled. "Stand it?" he slowly repeated. "Why, she ain't sick or hurt, is she?" I said something about her not being used to riding long distances. "Long distances!" he snorted. "Wal, if a woman can't foller a smooth trace on a good hoss for a day's ride, she ain't got no business west of the mountains. I can't stick here swapping talk. I've got to push on and git that powder. Curse the luck!" "The Greenwoods have no powder to spare. He has less than half a pound." "Black devils in a pipe! Howard's Creek will have to go to making bows and arrers!" "I've brought twenty pounds of powder and ten of lead from Salem," I added. "Howard's Creek is welcome to it after I've outfitted myself."