Norton was by no means unconscious, but he was weak and nauseated and half-drowned. He was well assured that never again would he have to seek a left-handed man with red-streaked powder-horn. He needed no glimpse of the horror-struck visage of Audubon to tell him that their enemy would fire no more canebrakes. He felt Audubon bundle him over the side of the canoe, with much difficulty, but was too weak to offer any assistance. Then Audubon himself climbed aboard and began to paddle the craft out into the river. Norton lay in the grip of a deadly coma until a burning flake settled on his back and aroused him as it ate through his leather shirt. He rolled over, quenched the burning in the water that half-filled the canoe, and sat up. Clutching at the gunnels, he stared about. Behind was the roaring mass of flame which had so nearly swallowed them, and they were already in the swift current of the stream. The river made a sharp bend just above them, toward which the smoke was drifting; they had already swept out of the murk, and Norton saw a flatboat floating down-river, half a mile away. Setting his teeth against the giddiness swirling over him, he reached down and grasped a paddle. At his feet were the rifles; Audubon must have recovered them, then. As he got his paddle over the side, Audubon looked around with a ghastly smile. "All right, Norton?" "Right enough. Keep her going." Little by little he conquered himself. He was very weak, but as they neared the flatboat he managed to wave his paddle. The crew of the boat were lined up with rifles, but as Audubon stood up, at some risk to the canoe, they recognized his figure and got out their sweeps. Five minutes later they were alongside, and Norton fainted. CHAPTER VII Sitting on a big tobacco hogshead and watching the Indiana shore, with Audubon standing gloomily at his side, Norton felt his bandaged head tenderly and considered what was to be done. "I saved the canoe from going under," said Audubon, "then rescued the rifles. I could give you no help until I saw your head come up. By the way, this was in the canoe." He held out a powder-horn--mottled, with a streak of red running through it. Norton stared down at it, then with a grim laugh reached into the coat which hung in the sun with his other clothes, and drew out the stopper Boone had found on the Beargrass Creek road that morning. The plug slipped deftly into place; the horn matched perfectly. "Well, so much for an assassin," he said grimly. "Now that you've had your initial taste of the work our foemen do, have you lost taste for the enterprise?" "Not unless the enterprise has lost taste for me," laughed Audubon, with a glance around. The crew of the flatboat were safe out of hearing. "I told our friends here that we had set fire to the canes ourselves, by accident----" "Good. Am I badly hurt? Where are we?"