Obviously the fresh animal stood saddled for a new journey--probably a mission of general warning. Bear Cat drew back into the invisibility of the steep hillside to watch, and it was only a short time before the door of Kinnard's own house, on the opposite slope, opened. Towers himself he only glimpsed, for the chieftain did not make a practice of offering himself as a target by night, framed in lighted doorways. But Black Tom came down the path to mount and ride away, and Bear Cat struck off at right angles through the woods. The horseman must follow the road he had taken to the next crossing, and the pedestrian could reach the place more quickly by the footpath. Having arrived, he lay belly-down on a titanic bowlder in time to hear the cuppy thud of unshod hooves on the soft road and, a little later, to see Black Tom dismount and hitch. Carmichael turned into the woodland trail without suspicion. He was on territory which should be safe, and he walked with a noisy carelessness that swallowed up what little sound Turner Stacy could not avoid as he followed. By the simple device of playing shadow to the man in front Bear Cat drew so near to the still that he could both see and hear, though the last stage of the journey through the interlocked thickets he accomplished with such minute caution that Black Tom sat by the fire with a tin cup of white liquor in his hand before his follower lay ensconced a stone's throw away. It was a nest of secrecy, buried from even a near view by the tops of felled hemlock which would hold their screen of foliage throughout the winter. Edging the narrow circle of firelight, walls of rock and naked trees were sketched flat and grotesque against the inky void beyond them. Two figures in muddied overcoats huddled close to the blaze, and Black Tom was reciting the events of the day over on Little Slippery. "They didn't p'intedly aim ter harm Bear Cat Stacy last night--he jest run inter ther ruction. Hit war ther furriner thet Kinnard wanted kilt." "Drink all ye craves an' tell me ther whole story," amicably invited "Little" Jake Kinnard. "I aimed ter warn ye erbout this Bear Cat's threat ter rip out stills--albeit we deems hit ter be mostly brash talk," Carmichael explained. "We didn't invite no trouble with ther Stacys. Kinnard fixed hit with Mark Tapper ter hev old Lone jailed so thet ther thing could he done easy like--an' peaceable--but Bear Cat come a-beltin' back an' hit went awry." The simmering fury of his blood boiled over in Turner's veins while he listened. All the duplicity of to-day now stood revealed and positive. All his suspicions were proven. With two quick shots from his rifle he could put an end to both these assassins, but he remained rigid. "No, by God," he mused. "I aims ter do hit on ther gallows-tree--not from ambush."