Within an hour the two men had become firm friends. They were alike only in the saving grace of humour, for Audubon had been trained in a gentler school than Norton. The latter was amazed to find that his new comrade, as Rosier had said, left his family and business at Louisville, in order to spend weeks in the woods; yet when Norton saw the drawings and sketches of birds which Audubon proudly displayed, he was forced to confess that the long weeks had borne fruit.
"I can't see what use they are, except to science," he said ruefully, "but I presume you get out of them the same keen satisfaction that I get out of a trail well blazed or a hunt well finished."
"Exactly," laughed the other. "But enough of this. Tell me about Blacknose."
Norton did so, relating all that had happened to him since his eventful arrival at the Taylor farm. Audubon listened in keen interest, stroking his long powerful chin but saying nothing. When Norton had made an end, the naturalist—for this, and not shopkeeping, was his real profession—quietly bundled up his drawings in a portfolio. He arranged them neatly and in precision, and not until he had buckled the last buckle did he break the silence which had fallen. Then his eyes clenched on the keen sword-gaze of Norton, and he smiled.
"I will go with you. My wife is with General Clark, and need fear nothing; I myself am accounted as a little crazed, so no man would hurt me. But let them wait! The day is coming when this country of ours shall take her rightful place among the nations who sit at the feet of science! Look at our bison and elk, our countless new species of every bird and animal——"
He broke off suddenly, laughed at his own hot enthusiasm, and continued.
"But, sir, your pardon. You are a soldier, and I am not—but in truth I have served in the navy of France, so let us demolish these river pirates together. Poor Rosier would scarce credit me joining you, I fear!"
Norton smiled. He liked this animated, vivacious, strong young fellow immensely, and was far too well educated to share in the prejudices of the Kentuckians against him. Audubon had been in Louisville only a few months, his life having alternated between France and America, but his business venture with Rosier had been sadly crippled by the activity of the river pirates, and also by his own indifference. He did not lack energy for any pursuit which attracted him, however, and flung himself into Norton's problem with a whole-hearted enthusiasm which delighted the Louisianian.
The latter went over each point, from the description of the would-be assassin to his last meeting with Duval and Grigg. On this last, Audubon managed to throw some faint light.
"Grigg was accused of horse-theft this spring," he said thoughtfully. "He was even had up in court, but Duval defended him most ably, and had him acquitted. I have often seen them together, too. This fellow Duval is a most able lawyer, Norton; he is said to be a second Hercules in strength, and seems to have plenty of money. So you met the famous Colonel Boone, eh? I hope for that pleasure some day; he is a famous man, a famous man!"
Norton tried to elicit some information about the two mysterious Indians whom he had met, but Audubon merely shook his head, knowing nothing of the redskins and caring less.
"As to this river piracy, one of our merchants, a Mr. Tarascon, last year tried to capture the men. His hogsheads of tobacco were privately marked in a certain place, and after losing two cargoes he had all the river captains watching for them. One Captain Brookfield, who runs a horse-power barque of forty tons, stated later that he had received a number of hogsheads from a settler at Blue River. He believed them to be the ones in question, but the private mark had been branded over very cleverly. So that plan came to nothing."
"At least," exclaimed Norton eagerly, "it would go to show that the Tarascon boats were looted between Louisville and Blue River, eh? Of course, others have vanished at different points; a band of pirates with confederates on the boats would not be so foolish as to commit all their piracies at one spot, especially after what happened to the Mason and Harpe gang through just such work. Well, I believe we can do no better than to seek this man, Red Hugh—if indeed you are willing to incur the risk of helping me."
"Do you wish me?" Audubon looked at him calmly. "I do not want to intrude——"
"Why man," and Norton laughed in sheer happiness until his brown face lost all its cold grimness and expressed only eager delight—"when I left Louisville I wished that one of two men were with me—one of them Daniel Boone, the other a younger frontiersman named Crockett, whom I know well. Now I extend that to a third, and the third is named Audubon; I think, perhaps, that I would sooner have this same Mr. Audubon than either of the other two! You are a man, sir."
Audubon put out his hand, and Norton gripped it, eye to eye.
"And you," returned the other slowly, "are—well, that compliment gains its whole value, sir, in coming from you. I can say no more."
It was enough, and with a song in his heart Norton returned to get his horse, while Audubon gathered his scattered belongings and made ready to depart. The bird-lover had a small double-barrelled rifle which he had bought in Philadelphia some years before, and when he had replenished his stock of ammunition from Norton's store, the two set forth.
They were a strange pair—Audubon in his black satin and French shirt, Norton in his buckskin and magnificent moccasins. Both were well versed in threading wilderness pathways, however, and it was no great task to find the Ohio. Late that afternoon they pushed their horses to the brow of a small hill, and saw the great river lying before them. The hills, which drew close to the Ohio at Blue River, were some distance back from the banks at this point, dense patches of canebrake appearing along the lower ground. The summer heat had thoroughly dried out the canes, and at sight of the yellow-brown patches Norton nodded.
"I rode along the Indiana shore from Fort Massac to Louisville," he said, "and remember seeing these canebrakes from across the river. We're almost opposite a little settlement called Doe Run——"
"Yes," added the other quickly, "and we are some eight miles from the spot indicated to you by Boone. I went down-river to Henderson last month and remember seeing that rocky cliff on the Indiana shore. What think you—shall we press on and find your Red Hugh to-night, or wait till morning?"
Norton decided to camp where they were. The afternoon was far gone; there were no settlements on the Kentucky shore, and they would stand little chance of finding Red Hugh's cabin at night. So he went on with the horses, while Audubon went after meat; by the time Norton had made camp on a small hillock of dry ground among the canebrakes, his companion came in with a wild turkey and news that a storm seemed coming up from the south.
When darkness came down and their bird was cooking, Audubon's prediction was justified by a shrill whispering of the canes as the wind stirred them. A brush shelter was soon thrown up, however, and the two men settled down in comfort, regardless of the weather.
Norton found that his companion agreed with him on the course to be pursued. Leaving Ayres out of the case, they could do nothing but scout along the river shores, and with the help of Red Hugh might hope to accomplish something. This settled, the horses were picketed and Norton fell asleep to the rustling of the canes and the soughing of the wind in the cot ton woods.
He wakened once, to find the fire burned out, the sky overcast, and a stiff gale sweeping over the valley. No rain had fallen, however, and despite the uneasy feeling that should have warned him, Norton slept once more.
When he was roused again, it was by a shrill scream from a horse, followed almost instantly by a rush of feet and a volley of shots. Norton was on his feet at once, with a shout to his companion; Audubon was already up, however, as his voice testified.
"The cane's afire, Norton! A spark must have caught it——"
"Sparks don't fly against the wind," grunted Norton.
They stood silent, dismayed by the spectacle around them and by the truth of Norton's remark. Dawn had come up; the high wind from the south was still blowing, and the canebrake was afire along the edge of the higher ground behind them. The two horses had disappeared, frightened by the veil of smoke drifting over the camp.
"Had the canes been afire along the river below," went on Norton grimly, "we could lay it to our own fire. But this seems to me the work of other hands, Audubon. The canes have been fired at a dozen places——"
"Then we had best lose no time getting out of here," cried the other. "Hello! Where's my rifle?"
"Gone, with mine," Norton grunted angrily as he realized what had occurred. "The enemy has trapped us and——"
"What? You mean——"
"Blacknose," nodded Norton, pale to the lips. "No use trying to break through that line of fire, because we're hemmed in all round."
Audubon stared blankly at him, cursed, then turned his eyes to the fire-sweep. Both men were quite well aware of their position. An enemy had removed their rifles and freed their horses, and the fire would do the rest.
The thirty-foot canes were blazing fiercely, the drifted smoke and flames completely cutting off all egress by the neck of higher ground through which the two had entered toward the shore. As the fire took hold, the explosions of water in the cane-joints became continuous; so loud were they that Norton could not but imagine himself in the midst of a battle. Audubon stared at the spectacle, awe-struck, for the flames and smoke were rising high; he already held his precious portfolio, seeming to care for nothing else.
The two men were soon aroused to their danger, however. Across the little opening on which they stood slipped an immense rattlesnake, followed quickly by a rush of rabbits; from one side came a tremendous crashing amid the canes, and by the lurid glare which paled the growing daylight, Norton made out the form of a bear crushing his way in panic toward the river.
"Come on," he cried hastily, turning. "Our only hope is the river, Audubon! If we can splash through the shallows beyond the edge of the fire, we'll be safe."
"Lead the way, then," returned the other calmly. "Good God, what a sight!"
His leathern shirt already hot against his skin, Norton turned and plunged to where the bear was still crashing through the canes. The river was a hundred yards away, and so thick were the high canes that to force a passage was impossible; their only hope lay in following the course of the frightened bear. With hot anger raging in him against the fiends who had laid this trap, and with quick realization that Audubon's shot at the turkey the previous evening must have drawn their foes upon them, Norton dashed forward into the muck.
It was high time, for the nearer canes were already being fired by sparks. On every side the explosions were crashing out while small animals scurried past in blind panic. A moment later the two friends gained the shore, however, and as they did so a canoe appeared a dozen feet away, paddled by a single man.
"Help!" cried Norton eagerly. "Come in here and get us off, friend!"
The canoe was drifting slowly, and even as the two plunged out into the shallow water, they were halted abruptly. The high brake around them shut out the glare from behind, and by the rapidly increasingly daylight they saw that the single occupant of the canoe was covering them with a rifle.
"Hold on, thar!" he cried hoarsely. "This gun's primed!"
And Norton recognized Audubon's double-barrelled rifle. There was now no doubt as to the identity of the canoeist—it was he who had thieved their rifles and set the cane-brake afire.
"You'll pay for this work," exclaimed Norton, trying to repress his rage. His hand went to his belt. Audubon, also realizing at once who the man was, took a forward step.
"Come on, Norton—wade around the brake——"
"Stop!" The man in the canoe levelled the rifle full at them; he was barely three yards away, and an eddy of the stream floated the canoe around. "You-all ain't in no danger. This here's a warnin' to git. They's a flatboat comin' around the bend—swim out an' git took off; stay on her clar to Saint Looey, an' keep out o' this country, you"—and Norton perceived that the remarks were addressed to him.
He also perceived something else. The man was holding the rifle at his left shoulder; he was bearded, wore a buckskin coat and a cap of fox, with the brush hanging over his back. Norton started suddenly. He had no need to see powder-horn or moccasins.
"So you're completing your work, eh?" he cried savagely. "You're the man who shot at me on the Beargrass Creek road the other day, eh?"
The villainous face of the man contracted.
"Ain't no 'lasses sticking to your feet, is they?" he jeered. "Right ye are, pardner. Now, you-all git aboard that flatboat an' stay thar, see?"
Norton thought swiftly, his hand closing on the hatchet in his belt. This was one of the Blacknose gang, beyond a doubt, and was the man whom Ayres had seen talking with Duval. Was it possible that——
"Who hired you for this dirty work?" he demanded swiftly. "Tell me who Blacknose is, and I'll give you five hundred dollars—"
"Git out an' swim, ye cussed spy," snarled the man evilly. "I ain't goin' to miss ye next time——"
Norton, who had drawn his hand behind him, flicked forward his wrist in an underhand throw, having no chance to raise the tomahawk. Even as the steel flamed out, the man caught the motion and fired; Norton flung himself forward, felt a hot sear of pain across his head, and plunged bodily on the canoe.
It was a desperate expedient, but Norton was too hot with anger to care for possibilities. Before the man could fire his second barrel, Norton's weight sent the canoe over backward; he went with it, felt himself grappled, and had a brief glimpse of Audubon leaping at the canoe as he went under.
The water was little more than knee-deep, but Norton felt something sting at his shoulder and knew his opponent had a knife out. Smashing down with his fist through the smother, he tried to free himself of the hand at his throat, but vainly. Already wounded, he felt a terrible weakness stealing over him, and the water choked his lungs. His fingers closed on a wrist, and he gripped it desperately as he struggled up to get his head above the water.
In this he succeeded, pulling his opponent with him, and for a moment the two men stood breast to breast. The riverman fought with an appalling savagery, snarling like a beast, and Norton knew his case was desperate. Blood blinded him: the hand about his throat drew tighter; and with only his right hand holding off the menacing knife, he put down his left hand to his belt in a last desperate effort.
The other saw his object, but could not prevent it without loosing his hold on Norton's throat. Snarling again, he threw himself forward; Norton was not braced against the move, and went over backward into the water. It was life or death now, and the Louisianian knew it. Jerking his own knife free, he lashed out frantically. The blade drove home, but he pulled it free and struck, again and again.
Wounded, throttled, choked with mud and water, Norton felt himself loosed from that terrible death-grapple. He tried weakly to lift himself erect, but could only raise his head from the water, sobbing in the smoke-laden air, while burning cane-flakes fell all around. He could see nothing, but felt hands lifting him and heard the voice of Audubon in his ear. The words sounded faint and very far away.
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.