A trickle of whisky through his lips brought Norton to his senses. A terrible lassitude had come upon him, but he shook it off with an effort and sat up in the arms of Red Hugh.
Brookfield was standing, watching him, biting at his moustache in anxiety. Behind them Diamond Island was fast slipping into the distance, while the boat's crew was watching Norton from afar, curiously. He looked out at the three-mile stretch of wide river, saw the clustered settlements which lined the banks on the opposite shore, and then—remembered.
"That letter was forged," he said slowly, striving to force himself into coherent calm. Brookfield jumped at the word.
"Forged—impossible!" he returned swiftly. "Why, Mr. Norton, I met two of the Regulators at Henderson last night, and they themselves said they had been recalled by Mr. Ayres and yourself——"
"Duped!" murmured Norton, and compressed his lips. Duval had sent another note to the Regulators, then! Had probably sent it days ahead!
The whole thing now lay plain before his mind. Cunning as a fox, Duval had known of their scheme almost from the first, beyond a doubt. Thinking that Norton would embark on the boat as originally planned, he had forged the letter from Ayres, together with another to the Regulators. Thus Norton and the richly-laden craft together would come into the hands of Grigg and the gang. Naturally, he could not have foreseen what had happened at the last moment.
Carefully and slowly, Norton told the other two what had taken place in Louisville, of that terrible ride, and lastly of how Duval must have tricked them all around. When he had finished, Red Hugh was plucking thoughtfully at his beard while Brookfield was staring at him in alarmed dismay. For this, Norton did not quite see the reason.
"It is not yet too late to repair matters, even though our plans have gone awry," he stated, as new hope began to creep through him. He got to his feet, shakily. After all, there was no great hurry. Thank heaven, he had been able to meet Brookfield and so warn him in time!
"How—repair matters?" frowned the captain.
"Why, 'tis simple enough"—and Norton essayed a faint smile. "We'll merely get back against the current to Henderson and take the Regulators aboard——"
"Think you I carry horses on my down voyage?" asked Brookfield, the veins in his stolid face standing out under his stress of emotion as he spoke. "Man, to get back is impossible! With only nine of us aboard in all, we could never row this craft upstream, and I have no horses to work the machinery."
Norton nodded, grasping the point, and looked out across the bulwark. They were now some seven miles below Diamond Island, and another island was in sight ahead. There seemed to be few settlements below.
"Well, then, we had best tie up at the first settlement which we reach, Captain Brookfield. There we can either take some extra men aboard to serve in place of the Regulators, or else you can tie up and wait till I can get back to Henderson for our own men——"
"That would take too long," broke in Red Hugh, speaking almost for the first time. "True, we might take some extra men aboard, but we know not whom we can trust down here. And Duval is ahead of us, eh?"
Norton nodded. Duval had probably crossed over to the Indiana shore, for they had caught no sight of him. At this juncture the sadly bewildered Brookfieid left them, to take charge of the island passage, and the Louisianian despatched Red Hugh in search of food and drink.
While he was making a hearty meal, which put new strength and life into his jaded body, Brookfield rejoined the two of them, and all discussed the situation, which began to assume rather alarming proportions.
Norton's suggestion was the most conservative. By tying up at one of the settlements they could take men aboard, and might find trustworthy men who could be initiated into the whole plot. Red Hugh, however, who had seemed to awaken thoroughly to the affair, now made a counter-proposal.
"Gentlemen, we are by no means cowards, I believe," he said, his deep-set grey eyes flaming a little as he spoke. "We are not so far from the Wabash at present. How about it, sir?"
Brookfield nodded gravely.
"Some twenty miles, for Slim Island is just ahead. Why?"
"Well, it seems to me that from what Captain Norton says," went on Red Hugh calmly, "all escape is cut off to Duval in the rear. He cannot well return to Louisville but must go on to Louisiana if he is to get away—and he must do so before this boat or others get down the river to give warning of him. And since it is most like that his gang has their camp somewhere near the Wabash, the militia would speedily make an end of him now that the secret of Blacknose is known."
"True enough," assented Norton. "Though he might also escape by way of Vincennes and Detroit to Canada. But what next?"
"Why should we not continue as we first planned?" said Red Hugh deliberately. "We will pass the Wabash by nightfall, so let us continue without pausing to tie up to-night, and if we run past Duval, so much the better. We can give warning of him at the lower settlements; at Fort Massac—"
"And from Fort Massac we can quarter back with men to find him," broke in Norton hastily.
"But what if he attacks us on the way?" argued the worried Brookfield. "He will know that we bear news of him, after all that has chanced behind us. He will not easily allow us to escape to bear this news down-river and so cut off all his chances——"
"Let him attack!" said Red Hugh boldly. "Not all of your crew are traitors, and Mr. Norton and I can keep good watch! Those dogs have only dared to destroy in the dark; one shot, and they will turn tail——"
"I doubt it," interrupted Norton drily. "Duval is no coward." He said no more for a little, but looked over the water with a frown.
Somewhere in that wilderness was Kitty Grigg, and practically in the power of Duval. Up to a certain extent, he believed Abel Grigg would protect her; but that protection would not go far with such a man as Duval. At thought of how he had failed in his task, of how he had been outwitted and snared and duped, he groaned inwardly. A great weariness closed in upon him, and he turned haggard eyes on the two men beside him.
"Settle it as you will," he said slowly. "I care not, gentlemen; I must have sleep. Whatever decision you reach, I will agree to it. Now show me a place to sleep in peace, Brookfield."
The anxious-eyed riverman nodded and led him forward to a cabin, where Norton turned in on a bunk and was asleep instantly.
While he rested, the other two discussed the situation for an hour or more. Brookfield was in dread anxiety for his ship and cargo, bitterly regretting that he had ever entered upon the venture. Red Hugh, in some contempt, stuck firmly to it that his plan was the best.
In the end, his insistence overbore the hesitation of the other, who helplessly consented to continue the voyage. After all, they were not far behind Duval, and there was a good chance that they might slip past down the river before the gang would expect them. Moreover, by not stopping they would not be so liable to attack as they would be if tied up over-night after the usual river fashion.
Of the six men who composed the crew, Brookfield could trust two of them, brothers, to the death; of the other four he was by no means so certain. Once the decision had been reached, Red Hugh instructed these two men to sleep on deck that night with their rifles ready at hand.
Toward sunset Norton was aroused, and came on deck to find that they were just approaching Wabash Island. They passed by the Indiana sound, and when darkness fell the Wabash itself lay behind them and Brookfield breathed more freely.
The Louisianian agreed to the proposed plan. Red Hugh took watch until midnight, but as Norton no longer felt the need of sleep after his day-long slumber, he remained on deck with the hunter.
Brookfield himself slept little. He was exceedingly anxious for the safety of his craft, and after an hour of sweeping along through the pitch darkness, his over-wrought nerves went to pieces.
"Gentlemen," he broke out nervously, approaching Norton and Red Hugh as they were smoking together in the bow, "I can stand this no longer! I beg of you, let us set in to the bank and be done with this strain! We need fear no attack here; we are just above Shawneetown, in a well-settled district, and not even Blacknose would take the chance of making an attack on us here."
Red Hugh was furiously angry, but Norton quieted him. He saw that the responsibility for ship and lading had quite unnerved Brookfield, and felt sorry for the man. Moreover, it looked very much as though Duval would never dare an attack in this well-settled district of the river.
That their plans were turned topsy-turvy mattered nothing to him. He was indifferent as to what course was adopted, and said so.
"If it will please you to seek the bank, then do it," he said quietly. "It seems there may be danger in whatever we do, so do you act as you think best in the matter, Captain Brookfield."
With obvious relief, the latter quickly routed out his men and set them at the sweeps, grumbling and cursing. Red Hugh went to his bunk in the cabin in huge disgust with everyone in general; Norton, however, remained on deck, determined to watch the night out at least.
The boat was fetched close in to the Indiana shore and after carefully sounding the channel, Brookfield at last tied her up to a huge jutting tree. Norton ascertained that they were three miles above Shawneetown, which was a large settlement of nearly thirty cabins, and that Brookfield's spirits had now bounded high above any thought of danger.
None the less, Norton stayed in the bow, one of the two trusted men agreeing to keep watch in the stern, for he would take no chances. The night was peaceful, warm, and rippling; had it not been for Kitty Grigg, the Louisianian would have been more than content to pursue his journey to the south and let Duval be dealt with later. He had already resolved to leave the boat at Fort Massac; with Red Hugh, he could work back on a scout along the——
Whether the horse-boat had been watched and followed, or whether her riding-light had betrayed her position, Norton never knew for certain. He was just filling his pipe afresh when all his dreams were shattered abruptly.
From the shadows aft beneath the horse-gallery there flitted a little sparkle of steel in the moonlight, and a knife thudded into the bulwark between his uplifted arm and his side.
Norton dropped his pipe with a crash, and fell back motionless, his hand on his rifle. Every sense was on the alert instantly, every fragment of woodcraft to the fore. From the shore he heard nothing except the soft ripple of waves, but there was a low murmur aft, and the sound of wood striking on wood, as though a boat had ground into the stern. The man on guard there, Norton concluded swiftly, must have been finished off by another knife.
Suddenly and softly, a man appeared crawling forward in the shadow of the port bulwark, watching his recumbent figure; Norton recognized one of the crew. Quietly he shifted his rifle as he lay, hot rage swelling within him. A moment later the man's body came in line with the sights, and Norton pulled trigger.
The roar of the shot blew the night quiet to shreds. The riverman gave one convulsive spring and dropped half across the bulwark, where he lay motionless. Norton leaped up with a shout of alarm.
"Brookfield! Hugh! On deck!"
Then he dropped behind a huge tobacco hogshead as another shot split the night and the bullet sang past his ear. From somewhere aft there came a wild confusion of voices, oaths, and the scuffle of feet. Norton feverishly reloaded, taking the pistol from his belt also. Beyond all doubt, Blacknose had struck.
The next moment, while he was still ramming his bullet home, a swarm of dark figures appeared rushing forward, along the port side of the deck. A shot and the roar of Brookfield's stentorian voice sounded from the stern. Norton caught up his pistol and discharging it into the mass of figures stopped them momentarily; he was answered by a scattering fire which swept above him harmlessly.
Upon that, the whole craft leaped into a mad swirl of fighting yelling men in utter confusion. Brookfield appeared on the horse-galley up above the deck, his pistols in hand, and he fired down twice into the crowd. A dozen shots replied, and Norton saw him reel and go down.
With a rush, the assailants now came at him in the bow. By this time the Louisianian had re-primed, and without hesitation he flung up his long rifle and fired at short range.
He had got two of the pirates in line, and both went down with a yell; at the same instant there swelled up a wild war-whoop, and the tall figure of Red Hugh appeared in the moonlight. As his yell shrilled high, he fired into the group of men; instead of breaking before him, they closed on him instantly. Red Hugh's prediction was proving terribly false, Norton thought swiftly.
Somewhere the cold terrible voice of Duval was directing the attack. Norton had no more chance to reload. Other dark figures came running forward, and a moment later Red Hugh on the fore-deck and Norton in the bow were surrounded by a whirl of fighting men.
For a little, Norton almost believed that they would clear the ship unaided. Both were fighting with clubbed rifles, and the long six-foot guns made terrific weapons for such close work. The pirates must have emptied their own guns, for they fired no more shots, and there was no chance to reload; the battle had become hand to hand, savage in its brutality.
Twice Norton swept his gun-butt down full upon a man, and each time the pirate went down like an axed ox with his skull crushed; the Louisianian was now fighting for his life, and realized it thoroughly. A tomahawk struck him and fell to the deck with a clang, thrown unskilfully; Norton leaped forward and whirled his rifle on the thrower with all his strength.
As he did so, his foot slipped and he half-fell; the rifle came down on a hogshead and shattered in his hands. With one savage yell of exultation, the enemy closed in upon him.
Then, out of the turmoil of blows and shouts and curses, rose the clear laugh of Norton as his foes drew back. He was on one knee, pressed against the bulwark, but he held knife and tomahawk in hand, and somewhere ir the press before him he had caught sight of Duval. The man's face goaded him, and while his foes drew back a pace, Norton laughed again and leaped into the midst of them, striking savagely.
His weapons flashed and bit in the moonlight, and with a thrill he heard the war-whoop of Red Hugh rising again. His assailants were all masked save for Duval, whom he had not seen again; the next instant, however, he caught sight of Grigg coming at him.
There was no mistaking the man's size and figure, despite his mask and the black paint which covered his face and clotted his beard. From one side a clubbed rifle swung down on Norton; he warded it off, and seeing that the man was one of the treacherous crew-members, flung out his tomahawk. The keen edge bit into the man's brain and he went down. Then Grigg was leaping out.
Whirling, Norton ducked the knife-thrust. There was no chance to use his own weapon, and as he swung around he brought up his fist, closed on the knife-haft, and drove it straight into Grigg's beard. All Norton's weight was behind the blow, and the big man went down with a single groan, caught full on the point of the chin and knocked senseless.
In the same moment, Norton realized that all was lost. A wild yell of triumph had quavered up, and now a solid mass of men came charging down on him. Red Hugh had been overcome at last. Then, as Norton drew back and faced the snarling ring of savage masks and weapons, the uproar quieted with unexpected suddenness to the cold voice of Duval.
"Quiet, boys!"
He stepped forth, unarmed, dominant, terrible. Norton, his chest heaving and with a wild riot of sheer hatred surging high in his brain, watched the man as there fell deep silence—a silence broken only by the groaning of wounded men and the peaceful ripple of water.
"Surrender, Mr. Norton," said Duval calmly. "You——"
"Dog!" snarled Norton, mad with rage and with the pain of his wounds and bruises. "Yellow dog!"
And dropping his knife, he sprang out upon Duval, for there was no thought of surrender in his mind. A single yell of warning from the circle of men; then the two were fighting like madmen with their bare fists.
Try as he would, Norton found his blows blocked, while Duval's fists hammered home upon him terrifically. Slowly his rage cooled of its flaming fury, and with new caution he realized that this was no common adversary. He staggered into a clinch, desperate.
A moment more, and Norton felt savage joy as he began to drive his fists into Duval's face and felt himself slowly mastering the other. Back went Duval—and back again, with Norton sending in relentless blows, while the lawyer fought back in grim silence.
Then a sudden low growl swept the watching circle as Duval reeled and clutched out at the air. Too late, Norton saw a rifle thrust between his legs. He tripped, and as he did so three men flung themselves on him bodily.
At last he went to the deck—pummelled, covered with slight knife-wounds, but still fighting savagely. Little by little they pinned him down, drew hands and feet together, bound him fast.
Brookfield's horse-boat was captured.