“I was on the Ohio,” said Henry at last, “when the trapper brought me your message, but I started at once.”

“O’ course,” said Shif’less Sol, “I never doubted it for a minute.  I reckon that you’ve come about seven hundred miles.”

“Nearer eight,” said Henry, “but I’m fresh and strong, and we need all our strength, Sol, because it’s a great task that lies before us.”

“It shorely is,” said Sol, “an’ that’s why I sent the message.  I don’t want to brag, Henry, but we’ve done a big thing or two before, an’ maybe we kin do a bigger now.”

He spoke the dialect of the border, he was not a man of books, but that great look of exaltation came into his face again, and the boy on the other side of the fire shared it.

“It seems to me, Sol,” said Henry presently, “that we’ve been selected for work of a certain kind.  We finish one job, and then another on the same line begins.”

“Mebbe it’s because we like to do it, an’ are fit fur it,” said Sol philosophically.  “I’ve noticed that a river gen’ally runs in a bed that suits it.  I don’t know whether the bed is thar because the river is, or the river is thar ’cause the bed is, but it’s shore that they’re both thar together, an’ you can’t git aroun’ that.”

“There’s something in what you say,” said Henry.

Then they relapsed into silence, and, in a half hour, as if by mutual consent, they rose, left the fire burning, and departed, still walking steadily toward the south.

The country grew rougher.  The hills were higher and closer together, and the undergrowth became thick.  Neither took any precautions as they passed among the slender bushes, frequently trampling them down and leaving signs that the blindest could not fail to see.  Now and then the two looked back, but they beheld only the forest and the forest people.

“I don’t think I ever saw the game so tame before,” said Henry.

“Which means,” said Sol, “that the warriors ain’t hunted here fur a long time.  I ain’t seen a single sign o’ them.”

“Nor I.”

They fell silent and scarcely spoke until the sun was setting again, when they stopped for the night, choosing a conspicuous place, as Sol had done the evening before.  After supper, they sought soft places on the turf, and lay in peace, gazing up at the great stars.  Henry was the first to break the silence.

“One is coming,” he said.  “I can hear the footstep.  Listen!”

His ear was to the earth, and the shiftless one imitated him.  At the end of a minute he spoke.

“Yes,” he said, “I hear him, too.  We’ll make him welcome.”

He rose, put a fresh piece of wood on the fire, and smiled, as he saw the flame leap up and crackle merrily.

“Here he is,” said Henry.

The figure that emerged from the bushes was thick-set and powerful, the strong face seamed and tanned by the wind, rain and sun of years.  The man stepped into the circle of the firelight, and held out his hand.  Each shook it with a firm and hearty clasp, and Tom Ross took his seat with them beside the fire.  They handed him food first, and then he said: