“Ramsey,” said he, “what boats have left in the last two weeks to go down the river?”

“Only three, sir.”

“Three!  Did you see them all?”

“I did.”

“Did you know any of the passengers?”

“I did.  Colonel Thomas Marshall commanded one of the boats, with whom there were a number of Virginians, several of them personally known to me.”

“Was there a family by the name of Walton among them?”

“Walton—­Walton?  I don’t know them.”

“A father, mother and daughter; the girl eighteen, and uncommonly good looking—­present a much richer appearance than is usual with emigrants.”

“I remember them; they went in another boat.”

“Do you think they have reached Maysville yet?”

“If unusually lucky, they have; but most probably not.”

“Then there is a possibility of their being overtaken, you think?”

“There may be; particularly if any bad luck has attended them.”

“Quick, then, quick! away!—­Have the boat decoyed to the shore, and captured by the Indians!  You understand, captured:  the girl must on no account be killed.”

“You don’t mean that I shall start out to-night in this storm and darkness?”

“Yes, and without a moment’s delay.  Set the red dogs on the scent—­capture the girl, and you shall be rewarded on your own terms.  Go, or it will be too late!”

With some hesitation Ramsey obeyed, and when once in for the business, pushed it forward with all the energy he could master.  This fellow was on friendly terms with the Indians, a band of whom—­kind of renegades—­whenever he could come across them, would follow his orders, or do his bidding.  With a dispatch that would have done credit to the swiftest courier in the days of chivalry, he pushed forward through the wilderness to the usual place of rendezvous of this band, hoping to find and enlist them in the enterprise on hand; but they were absent on some expedition of their own.  Not to be discouraged by one disappointment, Ramsey paused only long enough to determine that his expected coadjutors were not to be found in or about their usual lurking place, then continued his course down the Ohio with unabated ardor, and on the second day came in sight of a boat just at dusk of the evening.  A momentary scrutiny convinced him that it was the one he was in pursuit of, and he concluded it must have been delayed by some misfortune, as he did not expect to come up to it so soon, if at all.  However this might be, one thing was certain, the boat was there, and more still, the crew were careless, a certain sign that they felt secure and free from any dread of danger.  So much the better for his purpose, thought the villain.