No question as to the intentions of the skulking savage entered into his mind for, although Hardy had not yet encountered any Indians, he had fully imbibed the border doctrine, begotten of bitter experience, that every redskin was a natural enemy. In his present position, the Indian behind the tree was considerably beyond range, and Hardy’s watchful concern was chiefly directed to seeing that he did not approach nearer unobserved. The boy concluded that he was alone, because had there been others with him they would surely have attacked ere this. It would not do to retreat. In the first place, such a movement would give the other a decided advantage, and in the second place--well, Hardy didn’t think of it. Clearly there was to be a duel between them. The point was, how should Hardy set about playing his part in it. Suddenly he struck upon a plan based on the recollection that Boone had once said that an Indian will seldom fire at beyond fifty yards’ range, because he is not confident of his marksmanship and also because he uses a light charge. These reflections only occupied a few minutes and, when he had decided upon his plan of action, Hardy rose with a well-feigned air of indifference as to the direction he should take. He was gratified to find that, although his heart beat somewhat faster than usual, he had no feeling of fear, and in fact rather enjoyed the situation. After looking around carelessly, he set out walking slowly and taking a line that would carry him past the Indian’s tree but at a distance of about one hundred yards. Hardy was confident of his own aim at that range, and unhesitatingly relied upon Boone’s statement that the Indian would not fire at that distance. Out of the corner of his eye, Hardy kept a watch on the savage’s hiding place as he strolled leisurely along. When he had passed the point he wheeled suddenly about, and at the same time brought his rifle to his shoulder. As he had anticipated, the Indian, believing himself undiscovered, had come from cover and was preparing to steal upon Hardy from behind. The latter’s sudden turn surprised the redskin and he stood stock-still in his tracks. The next instant Hardy’s rifle cracked and the Indian’s head-feathers flew. Hardy had missed his mark by a scalp’s breadth. Almost his sole chance of safety lay in taking to his heels. He thought of it and started to run but something restrained him and, instead, he stepped behind a tree and waited. Later in life Hardy learned that even such dare-devils as Simon Kenton and Lewis Wetzel recognized discretion as the better part of valor under similar circumstances, and were not ashamed to resort to flight in the face of great odds.