Now John Norton was no fool, as may have been previously inferred. Despite his respect for the law, Ayres's words had set his nerves on edge, in conjunction with what had happened that day. Like all woodsmen, he much preferred danger in the woods to danger in the town; as he tied his purchases and rifle to his saddle, he found himself glancing nervously over his shoulder. And even as he set foot in the stirrup, he paused. There was a horrible shuffling step from the doorway behind, and he whirled, hand on knife, to see the big hairy riverman clutching the door-post. The giant's face was terribly convulsed, and one hand gripped at a knife-haft whose blade was buried in his side. Barely had Norton comprehended, when the man pulled the knife free, coughed, and fell dead. With the same instant there rose a shrill yell from the doorway behind, and men came crowding out. "There he is! Thar's the murderer!" went up the shout. "Git him, boys!" A pistol flashed, and the ball sang past Norton's ear. Dodging behind his horse, he realized everything in a flash; Ayres's prediction had proved terribly true, and what was worse, the murderers were trying to fasten the crime on him. More, they were trying to kill him before he had a chance to deny his guilt. Whether Duval's work or not---- Sensing all this as he dodged, Norton wasted neither time nor movement. Before the first of the crowd poured out across the dead man, he made a flying leap for the saddle, gained it, and sent his horse ahead on the jump. He knew his one chance lay in getting out of town within the hour--as Ayres had predicted. Another pistol cracked behind him, and another. The balls whistled harmlessly past, but served to draw attention. Several men leaped into the road, shouting; Norton drove his horse at them with a yell, and they fell away. Without thought, he had headed up-town and now had no choice but to continue his way along the south road. The last of the fine brick houses was almost past, and the uproar behind him was being swelled by voices and bells. The final house was a splendid mansion--Norton knew it for that of a Doctor Gault. As he pounded past the terraced gardens, he glanced up to the doorway and caught sight of a group of figures--Colonel Taylor, Zach, Boone and others. A wave of the hand came to him, a shouted farewell, and Louisville fell behind. "And now for the chase," thought Norton grimly, pulling in his steed a trifle. "They'll fasten that murder on me and get me--if they can. It's a neat manner to be rid of an enemy--the second attempt in one morning, the day after my arrival in town! Now I would call that quick work, brainy work, but desperate work. Whoever he is, Blacknose fears me--good! If I can match his villainy with honest woodcraft, he shall fear me more."