“What is it?” I asked.

For reply he pointed me to a canoe half hidden in the bushes where roadside and river-edge came together.

I laughed.  “An empty pirogue.  Shall we charge and run it through?”

“Hist!” said he; “that canoe was afloat a minute since.  Mark the paddle—­’tis dripping yet.”

As he spoke an Indian stood up in the bushes beside the pirogue, holding out his empty hands in token of amity.  We rode up and were presently shaking hands with our old-time ally, the Catawba.

“How!” said he; “heap how!  Chief Harris glad; wah!  Make think have to go to Sal’bury to find Captain Long-knife and Captain Jennif’.  Heap much glad!”

“Chief Harris?” I queried.  “Who may he be?”

The Catawba drew himself up and drummed upon his breast.

“Chief Harris here,” he answered, proudly.  “The Great War Chief,” by which we understood he meant General Greene, “say all Catawba take war-path ’gainst redcoat; make Uncanoola headman; give um new name.  Wah!”

At this we shook hands with him again, well pleased that our stanch ally should have recognition at the hands of the general.  Then I would ask if he were on the way to raise his tribesmen to fight with us.

“Bimeby; no have time now; big thing over yonder,” pointing across the river.  “Manitou Cornwally fool Great War Chief, mebbe, hey?”

“How is that?” said Dick; and the query elicited a bit of news to make us prick our ears.  The Catawba had been in the British camp at Forney’s, posturing again as a Cherokee friendly to the king’s side.  Some sudden movement had been determined upon, though what it was to be he could not learn.  At the end of his own resources he had crossed the river in a stolen pirogue to find and warn us.

“What say you, Dick?” I asked, when we had heard the Catawba through.

The lad was holding his lip in his hand and scowling as one who pits duty against inclination.

“’Tis our cursed luck!” he gloomed.  Then he swore it out by length and breadth, and, when the air was cleared, let me have what was in his mind.

“After all, ’tis like enough we should find Appleby house deserted.  Gilbert Stair will cling to Lord Cornwallis’s coat-skirt as long as he can for sheer safety’s sake.  At all events, our business must wait; the country’s weal comes first.”  Then to the Indian:  “If we can make the beasts take the water, will you ferry us across, Chief?”

The Catawba nodded, and made the nod good by setting us dry-shod on the farther bank of the brown flood.  By the time we had the horses rubbed down and resaddled ’twas twilight in the open and night dark in the wood; but we were on our own ground and knew every by-path through the forest.

So, when we had sent the Indian back to carry news of us to General Davidson at the lower ford, and to advertise him of our purpose, we mounted to begin a scouting jaunt, keeping to the wood paths and bearing cautiously northward toward the enemy’s camp at Forney’s plantation.