Twisting in the saddle, Norton looked back, having caught a sudden thud of hoofs. He thundered past a cross-roads, and although the town was shut out behind, the horseman who followed was plainly visible. He wore a crushed beaver-hat, scarlet breeches, and a fluttering greatcoat; as Norton gazed in amazement, the other waved him onward. Ayres, for it was no other, drew up at the cross-roads, carefully spattered mud over the road from a puddle, then departed at a gallop by the eastern track and was lost to sight. "Covering my trail--the old fox!" exclaimed Norton. "Mr. Ayres, my compliments. You may be a schoolmaster, but John Norton owes you his life this day!" And he rode on to the south. CHAPTER IV That there would be pursuit Norton knew well enough. He knew also that if he were caught, he would not be brought back to Louisville alive; Blacknose, being a person of sufficient wit to make so shrewd and swift a plot, would have him safely shot in order to preclude all possible danger. Once past Sullivan's ferry, where the post-road crossed the Ohio to Vincennes seven miles below Shippingsport, Norton knew that he would have the wilderness ahead and his own good wits to rely upon. More than once he pondered on the subject of Charles Duval. He more than suspected the lawyer of being at the bottom of the affair at the tavern, though this seemed hardly possible on sober second thought. He had seen nothing of Duval in the crowd about the door, but the memory of how the man had silenced the riot during dinner still remained with him. Duval had influence, it seemed, and he was also a prominent citizen. John Norton was pre-eminently just. He admitted to himself that he had taken an instant dislike to Duval upon meeting the latter on the Beargrass Creek Road the day before. The dislike was based on no solid ground. Duval was the type of man best fitted to capture the liking of frontiersmen--strong, powerful, unafraid and brainy. None the less, Norton did not like him. Either, he considered, his errand had been noised abroad and the river-pirates had tried to eliminate him that morning, or else Duval had been behind the two attempts on his life. "And if I'm to take my choice," he thought, "I'd say it was the pirates." None the less, it was with a distinct shock that a moment later he recognized Charles Duval slowly riding toward him. Norton drew rein, astounded. His track had degenerated into a mere forest trail, since he had struck away from the main pike which Ayres had followed, to throw off the pursuers. Trees were on every side, and Norton could only conjecture that he had come some four miles from the town. Yet here was Duval riding toward him--Duval, whom he had supposed was even then urging on his pursuers!