A road had been cut from the settlement of the Markley family to a point, several miles distant, where it intersected a regularly beaten wagon trail, leading to the nearest trading-post. After leaving the cabin, it led through the depths of the wood for some two miles, beyond which point the way was more open. The parties who were unacquainted with the details of the massacre now turned to the scout, and, in answer to their questions, David related the scene as it had transpired. He spoke more especially of Emily, and the compact entered into between himself and Charles. Neither of the parents spoke, for the danger to which their son and the brave scout were about to subject themselves, seemed stupendous in their eyes, but they shuddered when Alfred chimed in: “Count me in for that expedition, Charley; I’m with you there.” “Good fer yer pluck, boy,” rejoined the scout, well pleased. “But there’s some things ye must remember afore ye set out. Ye’ll have hundreds of miles to tramp, right in the midst of Injins, and danger of every description to look out for. I’m used to it, an’ don’t mind bruisin’; you are young, and tender-like.” “What of that?” broke in the youth, impatiently. “I can learn, and now is as good a time as I shall ever have.” “There _is_ times,” returned the scout, “where _one_ man can do what _three_ can’t. But it’s oftener three can do more than two; so, if yer in earnest, we’ll call it settled, for I like yer grit right well.” “Then settled it is,” the young man frankly exclaimed, as he grasped the extended hand of the scout. As the scout relinquished the hand of the youth, he peered for a moment very earnestly into the gloom before them. Quickly exclaiming: “Down all of ye!” he raised his rifle and fired. Following the report of David’s rifle, a wild yell of rage broke from the forest, and half-a-dozen musket-shots followed. No one was injured, as the savages had fired wildly. With a second yell they dashed for the vehicle. As it required the entire skill of Alfred to manage the plunging steeds, he was almost entirely unaware of the state of things behind him. The scout sprung up as the scattering shots ceased, but he had no time to reload his rifle. Casting it in the bottom of the wagon, he drew a pistol in each hand, and, with a word to the others, turned to meet the foe. Three Indians sprung toward the vehicle upon one side, two of whom succeeded in grasping the sides, while the third, falling beneath the heavy wheels, never knew the result of the conflict. The foremost of the twain received the contents of a pistol full in his face, and fell back, but the second weapon missed fire, and the yelling Indian sprung into the midst of the little party, whirling his hatchet aloft.