Mr. Edwards bowed his head, signifying that it should be as he wished, and the Shawanoe was off in a twinkling before Kenton, who was hardly out of sight to the rear, could come up. He soon appeared, and inquired what had taken place. "Thar's trouble," was his emphatic comment. "How can you know that?" asked the pioneer, with slight impatience; "you haven't seen anything." "We're not far from where the younkers had the row yesterday; the lake isn't more'n half a mile up stream, and the reg'lar trail ain't that fur off in t'other direction." "Don't you think Red Crow is acting wisely?" "No one could do as well. It ain't that; but I told you we wouldn't reach the settlement without a rumpus. He means to take us across the gorge. The other varmints may not know the course we've took, but they'll be smart enough to 'spect that we'll try to cross at this spot, and some of 'em will be on the watch thar as sure as you're born. Wait hyar whar you be till I go ahead and larn how things stand. I think Red Crow is likely to need me." The words proved true sooner than the sagacious scout suspected. CHAPTER XXXIII. CONCLUSION. Red Crow, the friendly Shawanoe, who had proved his loyalty to the whites in so many striking instances, left the little party where he had halted them in the wood and walked rapidly toward the gorge, which he intended should be crossed by the fugitives and their animals. It followed that, if such was his intention, the means of crossing was at his command. So it proved. He struck the gorge at a place where it was so narrow that Larry Murphy, and even Mrs. Edwards herself, would have found no difficulty in leaping it. The horses, if stripped of their loads and sharply urged, would no doubt have done the same; but to meet such an emergency some one had caused the trunks of two trees to lie as close as possible side by side, the "dip" between the logs being packed with dirt and gravel, so that a space of fully two feet wide and quite level was presented. It was strong, and any horse could walk over without trouble. It was curious that the youths, while searching for just such a spot the previous evening, should have missed it. They must have passed quite near to it. Red Crow stood a moment calmly contemplating the rude work of art, his eyes roving from where he stood to the other side and beyond. It would seem as if he ought to have been satisfied with the strength of the bridge, but he appeared to be in doubt, and to test it he started to walk across. At the moment of doing so a figure stepped from behind one of the large trees and advanced to him. Red Crow looked up and saw Blazing Arrow, who, detecting his approach, had dodged behind shelter. The face of the miscreant was the embodiment of rage as he ground out the words: "Dog of a Shawanoe! friend of the white man! you shall die! rot at the bottom of the water!"