On Monday afternoon those in advance saw a pack-train approaching, composed of eight horses and one cart, and in charge of six frontiersmen and a trader named Packerson. “Where bound, Packerson?” asked Sam Barringford. “Fort Pitt,” was the short reply. Packerson was a rather silent man, of few words. “Come straight through from Cumberland?” “Yes.” “See any Injuns?” “Seven. Had a fight with ’em too,” answered the trader. Then his train came to a halt, and the others at once surrounded him for particulars of the encounter. CHAPTER VIII THE MASSACRE OF A PACK-TRAIN Jed Packerson’s story was soon told. His party had first seen the Indians while crossing a high hill where a landslide had carried down many trees of the forest to the valley below. As soon as discovered the red men had run for shelter. Half an hour later one of the frontiersmen had given the alarm, and the next moment a shower of arrows had fallen around them, hitting one man in the shoulder. Then two guns had been discharged and a horse had been hit in the thigh and had stampeded. The whites had returned the fire of the Indians, who, however, had kept under cover. At least one red warrior had been wounded, and then the whole party had taken themselves to parts unknown. The horse to run away was still missing and Packerson had decided to let him go rather than lose time on a trail that appeared so dangerous. The fight had occurred two days before, and the spot where the Indians had opened fire was less than sixteen miles away. This was disturbing news to Rodney and his friends, and after Packerson had continued on his way a council of war was held. “We’ll have to be on our guard night an’ day,” said Sam Barringford. “The advance guard will have to spread out purty well an’ beat the brush thoroughly. At the first sign o’ danger, whistle or fire a gun and then come to the center.” The old frontiersman had been selected as a leader, and the others agreed to follow his advice. The bordermen and the regulars spread out into a regular circle around the pack-horses and those with the steeds, and Mrs. Dobson and the children were cautioned not to wander off by the roadside under any circumstances. That evening the party encamped by the side of a stream at a point where there was a good-sized opening in the forest. Guards were stationed on both sides of the watercourse, every man being on duty four hours during the darkness. The horses were tethered in a circle and in the center a small tent was pitched, in which Mrs. Dobson, Nell, and the twins might rest. Sam Barringford remained on guard duty from eight o’clock to midnight, his post being to the north of the camp proper, where the stream made a turn between some rocks and tall trees. The old frontiersman was tired out by his day’s tramp, but did not grumble over being compelled to keep awake.