When Kingman and Moffat separated, as mentioned in our last chapter, the latter concluded that before making his retreat sure, it was best to determine more definitely the whereabouts and intentions of the Shawnees. With this purpose he proceeded farther down the ravine and crossed it in the same place, and a few minutes after Kingman’s pursuer did; so that three individuals moved over nearly the same spot, and at nearly the same time, without one suspecting the presence of the other, except in the case of our hero. Kingman reached the opposite side of the ravine, and he reascended it for several hundred yards for the purpose of ascertaining the precise position of the Indian above. This necessarily required some time, and was only partially successful. He approached nigh enough to hear the “ugh!” of a savage in conversation with another, when he deemed it best to make good his retreat. The fact that the Shawnees were still watching above he considered as evidence that his stratagem to insure the escape of Kingman had been perfectly successful; for, if they suspected anything, they would not still be lying in ambush as they were. With these thoughts, he now made his way toward the river for the last time, trusting to come upon Kingman and the boat. He reached the river at a point _behind_ the Shawnees, pursuing our hero, so that the two latter were below him on the river. It was singular that the three should be in such proximity and still ignorant of the other’s proceedings. The appearance of Moffat upon the ground would have made a material difference in the programme of affairs; but such was not destined to be the case. Moffat took a careful survey of the river bank, but of course saw nothing either of Kingman or the boat. Not doubting, however, but the latter had made off with it, and was waiting at some point lower down for him, he proceeded onward. Scarcely a hundred feet lower he saw the boat lying under and fastened by one of the overhanging bushes. He was considerably surprised at this, and feared that it augured ill for Kingman. He waded out and examined it. There were no signs of a struggle having taken place, and the oars lay precisely as they did when he left the boat himself. Still, only partially satisfied, he stepped into it, shoved it out clear from the bushes, and commenced rowing down stream. The noise made doing this reached the ears of the Shawnee above, but did not succeed in drawing him from his watch; for, as the reader has probably noticed, he had fixed his heart upon obtaining Kingman’s scalp, and was determined that nothing else should draw him from it.