His best plan now lay in finding the man Red Hugh, of whom Boone had spoken, and enlisting his services. There might also be a messenger at Dodd's Tavern, if Ayres kept his word. Norton perceived very plainly that he had been neatly driven out of Louisville as a fugitive, but he firmly intended to return otherwise--for divers reasons. If he was to detect the river-pirates or whoever formed the band of Blacknose, he must do it by means of scouting along the river. It might require weeks and months of arduous work and woods-living, and such a man as Red Hugh would prove invaluable. Were Boone right in his description of the man who slew Indians--and Norton knew of too many such to doubt--this Red Hugh would be more than apt to know all the river-haunts this side the Mississippi. "After all," he told himself cheerily, "things seem to have turned out very well! If Ayres does not forget his promises, we may yet bring Blacknose to book." He passed one or two scattered cabins that afternoon, shot a wild turkey, and camped for the night beside a creek, in perfect content. In case Grigg had not overheard his plan, he decided to let the man think he had followed the Tennessee trail; he was not at all sure that Duval and Grigg were not leagued against him, and knew better than to trust in the lawyer's seeming apology. Kitty's words rang in his mind--"If Charles Duval gave you an apology, look to your steps!" "She knew the breed all right," he reflected, the next morning. "I should have known better myself. Well, now for the north and west!" He made no effort to hide his camp. As the creek ran north, seemingly to the Ohio, he led his horse along its bed for a good mile, picked hard ground for the emergence, and rode off, leaving a carefully covered trail. Even were he followed, his pursuers would be a day or two later, he knew, so before noon he flung off all care and rode on through the woods. Another turkey and a small deer fell to his rifle that morning, after which he wended his solitary way in peace, with meat and to spare. Stopping at noon, he lighted a small fire and proceeded to smoke enough of his fresh meat to last for a few days, as he was going on to the river, where game was thinned out. He had been following no trail and had seen no one all that morning; the forest seemed limitless and desolate, empty of all human life. Norton, however, did not relax his vigilance. While he was engaged with his meat, he paused suddenly, caught up his rifle, and drew the feather from the touch-hole. He heard no sound, but he had a subtle warning that someone was near; before he had unstopped his powder-horn, the bushes opposite were flung aside and two Indians appeared. "How!"