"Duval is in the same boat," observed Audubon. "We can be sure that he'll keep the trail, for it's his only hope." Norton did not reply. Duval must keep to the "trace" indeed; unless he passed Henderson ahead of them he was lost. His only hope lay in meeting his own gang or else in getting down the river ahead of his pursuers by means of a boat or canoe. When the moon came up at length, Norton renewed the chase at a gallop, and the freshened horses responded nobly to his urgings. It was sheer madness to go sweeping through the dark woods at that pace, but Norton was far past caring. "Kitty Grigg! Kitty Grigg!" The name pounded through his heart with the pound of the hoofs on the dew-wet turf. He was just changing saddles at midnight, when the Scotchman drew up alongside, spent. "Take my fresh horse, Mr Norton. This beastie o' mine is done, and I'll be done, too, in anither hour." Norton nodded, and with a word to Audubon, rode on. Out of all the fourteen who had thundered out of Louisville, he and his friend alone were left. To judge from his own stiffened and wearied body, Audubon must be made of iron to stand the pace. With three led horses, they did not spare the brutes while the moonlight lasted, one of the mounts foundering an hour later. At last the moon died into the darkness preceding dawn, and with only the horses they rode left to them, they drew up for a brief rest. "We must be hard on Henderson," said Norton shortly, lighting his pipe, for he would not sleep. "Ten miles from there, I think," responded Audubon "There's a fork in the trail somewhere ahead. One trace goes to Henderson; the other proceeds to the river near Diamond Island, I believe." With the first gleam of grey in the sky, they were up and off; and now as the daylight increased, Norton again urged the poor steeds to the utmost. An hour after dawn Audubon halted him with a shout, and just beyond them he perceived that the trail bent around to the north, a fainter trail continuing from it to the left and west. He pulled up and dismounted stiffly. "By gad! Audubon, which trail for Henderson?" "The northern." "Then we've got him! He's gone on to strike the river, and here are the marks where the Regulators turned off to Henderson yesterday!" Norton leaped into his saddle and his jaded steed again took up the road. The other horse was spent, however. A mile farther on, and Norton turned at a cry to see Audubon go down. "I'm done!" shouted Audubon, scrambling to his feet. "On, Norton! Good luck!" For a bare instant the Louisianian hesitated, then dug in his heels and sent his sobbing beast ahead, his face grim. Everything now depended on him alone. It was Sunday morning, he knew, and he wondered if there were any church-bells in Henderson. His horse was staggering now, and he had to watch closely lest he be sent headlong into the trees.