"Every man get his horse and gun and we'll start in five minutes. Others can follow. We go to Hunter Tom's place. Perhaps some accident has happened. Fetch me some brandy, Burke; if they are hurt they may need it." Rapidly the men collected, and under the able generalship of Professor Bill Banks forth they sallied. The tavern keeper watched them gallop down the town road and thunder over the lower bridge, and when they had disappeared among the trees of the farther shore he entered the tavern. "Wot a scholard Bill is," he murmured as he endeavoured to write down his learned words. "Egg--egg--" he murmured, and then he slowly allowed his tongue to follow the twisting, uncertain movements of his quill pen. "It's no use," he said, as he flung down the quill; "Bill will hev to write her down fer me. Wot a scholard! He'll be a Congressman yit." Bill and his men in a short time reached the hunter's cabin in the Loop. Tom, hearing the shout of familiar voices, flung open the door, and in a few, brief words narrated the adventures of the night. They had been up the creek, he said, and had been attacked by Shawnese. About the object of their night expedition he was silent. The news of the presence of Indians in the neighbourhood was new to all but two of the party, who had seen them as the pilot had seen them on the former day. Bill, with the skill of a general, divided his forces. Two he told to remain with Ande in the cabin; some were sent down the river in search of the pilot and Dick; the remainder and greater number, with the hunter in their midst, were to take the trail up stream to avenge themselves on the remaining Shawnese. According to the hunter's account but half a dozen at the most remained. Tom was in little hopes of finding them, as by this time they had made good their escape; but Professor Bill was inflexible, and forth up the creek trail they started. Part of the expedition went in Tom's canoe and the rest, leaving their horses in Tom's clearing, started forth on foot. The place of the battle was reached after an hour or so, but little was to be learned. At the landing, with the exception of trampled ground and a few pools of blood, nothing could be seen. The bodies of the slain Shawnese were either buried or consigned to the flood. The neighbourhood was thoroughly searched, the woods and hills beaten by the scattering settlers, but Shawnese, living and dead, and even Dick's broken rifle, had disappeared. Expecting the rising of the settlers they had decamped in haste. Disappointed in their quest they returned to the Loop.