anybody else. It was sinister and full of menace. It was the smile of
a man who rejoiced in sanguinary work, and it made Robert think again
of his extraordinary history, around which the border had built so
much of truth and legend.

"I will help, of course," he replied. "It's my trade. It was my
purpose to warn 'em before I met you, but I feared they would not
listen to me. Now, the words of four may sound more real to 'em than
the words of one."

"Then lead the way," said Willet. "'Tis not a time to linger."

Black Rifle, without another word, threw his rifle over his shoulder
and started toward the north, the others falling into Indian file
behind him. A light, pleased smile played over his massive and rugged
features. More than the rest he rejoiced in the prospect of combat.
They did not seek battle and they fought only when they were compelled
to do so, but he, with his whole nature embittered forever by that
massacre of long ago, loved it for its own sake. He had ranged the
border, a torch of fire, for years, and now he foresaw more of the
revenge that he craved incessantly.

He led without hesitation straight toward the north. All four were
accomplished trailers and the flitting figures were soundless as they
made their swift march through the forest. In a half hour they reached
the crest of a rather high hill and Black Rifle, stopping, pointed
with a long forefinger toward a low and dim light.

"The camp of the Pennsylvanians," he said with bitter irony. "As I
told you, fearing lest the savages should miss 'em in the forest they