a struggle had taken place between two white men on foot, but both were
gone, and the trail was lost in an adjacent brook, down which one had fled
and the other had likely followed, at least for a distance.

The fact that he did not find the body of Sam Barringford gave James Morris
hope. If the old frontiersman was not seriously wounded it was more than
likely he was on the trail of those who had attacked the pack-train, with a
view to finding out where they were going, or to ascertain exactly who was
responsible for the affair.

"I know Sam will do what he can," he thought, and with this small degree of
comfort he loaded his steed with such things as he could carry and started
on the return to the trading-post.

It was a hard journey, and he did not reach the Ohio until long after
nightfall. He found the post being guarded by five frontiersmen and eight
Indians, who had been hastily called together as soon as Henry and Jadwin
appeared.

"Father!" cried Dave joyfully, as he ran to meet his parent. "I am glad you
are back safe."

"Has Henry come?"

"Yes, and I made him lie down, he was so weak. What an awful fight it must
have been! Did you discover who did it?"

"Partly. One of the dead redskins was a Wanderer, and a dead white man was
that good-for-nothing Baptiste Masson I have often mentioned to you."