“Well, I’d just as leave dodge any fighting at the odds we’ll have to give,” said Jack, drily. “But,” and there was a hopeful note in his voice, “maybe we’ll not be molested much. You see,” to Frank, “that section of the Alabama River where the triple oaks stand has no white settlers; and the Indians at this time are mustering in the neighborhoods they mean to attack. We might go through the entire grant which you’re looking for and not see a single redskin.” “I hope that turns out the case,” remarked Frank, though it was plain he had no strong expectations of the affair’s proving so. “But let us keep a good lookout, just the same. I haven’t had but a few brushes with the Creeks, but I know they have a habit of turning up just at the time you’re not expecting them.” But it so happened Jack Davis’ judgment of the conditions of affairs along that section of the river was quite correct. At most times it would have been the region in which to find the Creeks the thickest; but, save for a few villages occupied by old men, and women and children, there were no braves to be seen. Signs were everywhere of parties having passed that way; they came upon the blackened remains of a half hundred camp-fires; but not a single eagle feather was visible anywhere about; not a bow twanged, not a war cry sounded. Jack Davis was greatly interested in the movements of the parties who had camped on and moved across their track. “Every one of them is headed for the settlements,” said he. “There must be thousands of them.” However, they knew that the uprising was expected, and felt that the military authorities and backwoodsmen were alert; so they concerned themselves with the object of their expedition alone. The triple oaks were once more sighted; unmolested this time, they studied the chart upon the deerskin scroll; one by one they located the landmarks set down, blazed trees with their hatchets and explored. The result of five days’ work was that the old grant was shown to be a splendidly located one, having every natural advantage. “It’s worth thousands,” said Jack, who had a fairly keen eye for such things. “If the Injuns are ever brought to see things in the right light, your father has a fortune here.” With this fact greatly comforting him, Frank was willing to turn once more toward the settlements; so after one night more in the river bank camp, they took to the saddle and headed for the Tennessee line. After the first day, unmistakable signs of Indians compelled them to change their course somewhat; the twilight of the second day found them in the forest amid a perfect maze of fresh trails. “They seem to be all around us,” said Jack, as they brought up at last, and sat their horses looking about them. And he was right; for as the twilight deepened into dusk, and dusk into night, they saw the red twinkle of Creek camp-fires on every hand. CHAPTER VII THE ONSLAUGHT AT FORT MIMS