When they reached Will's Creek, Hunter was astonished to find William Trent in residence, but the captain had left forty men with Ensign Ward, and had complete confidence in their ability to construct the fort on their own. In Hunter's opinion, forty men might be sufficient to build a fort, but it certainly wouldn't be enough to defend it. The French had thousands of soldiers in Canada, and if they chose to invade the Ohio Valley, Hunter knew one small fort would cost them no more than a few minutes' delay.
Because no one turned him away, he had stayed close as the officers discussed their plans, but when none expressed any fear of the French, he again thought they had a feeble grasp of the situation. With his sighting of the wolf still in mind, he was about to say so, when Washington announced he intended to move his reinforcements to the new fort with all possible haste. Hunter relaxed then. At Governor Dinwiddie's behest, Washington had gone to Fort Le Boeuf near Lake Erie in December, to insist the French remove themselves from territories belonging to the king of Great Britain, and it was apparent he understood that the threat posed by the French was very real indeed.
His initial impression of the intelligence of the young lieutenant colonel confirmed, Hunter went to bed eagerly anticipating the next part of their journey. From Will's Creek, it was one hundred forty miles to the new fort. They would be traveling through dense forest now, and crossing two mountain ranges, innumerable hills, and fording fast-moving streams. It would not be an easy trip, but this was the exciting kind of traveling Hunter relished, where a man had to rely on all his skills to survive.
The next morning plans were still being made, and the troops were taking a much needed rest, but Hunter wasn't tired and left camp early to scout the trail. He had not gone far when he heard someone moving up fast behind him. Not wanting company, he stepped into the trees to let them pass. When Vernon Avey and his two cronies trotted by, Hunter was tempted to laugh out loud. They had no reason to enter the forest, but if they were tracking him, they would soon turn back, and he remained hidden to see what they would do.
Vernon was positive the scout hadn't left camp more than three minutes ahead of them, but when they reached a long level stretch and there was no sign of the Indian on the trail ahead, he stopped abruptly. "The devil's vanished," he announced in disgust.
"Maybe he took another path," Hank suggested.
Vernon cuffed him hard. "Fool! There ain't no other path."
"Then he must be traveling much faster than we are," Willis argued. "Come on, let's hurry."
"I'll decide what we'll do!" Vernon didn't waste a second, however, before continuing on down the trail at a near-run. Hank and Willis exchanged a knowing glance before following, and the three men traversed another hundred yards before giving up their pursuit.
"He must have left the trail to hunt," Vernon finally surmised. "We'll have to jump him in camp. After dark there won't be no witnesses, and we can say he came after us."
"Who'd believe that?" Hank asked, and this time he was smart enough to duck out of Vernon's way before he got hit.
"Everyone will believe it!" Vernon insisted. "The word of three white men will be taken over an Indian's, and with any luck, there won't be enough left of the bastard to talk."
Hank and Willis pondered that possibility a moment, and agreed. "Sure. Whatever we say will be believed, but we ought to get our stories straight first, just to make certain we're convincing," Willis suggested.
Vernon herded them back along the trail as he continued to plan. "We'll say he wasn't watching where he was going, and plowed right into us. We backed off, but he came at us again. All we was doing was defending ourselves."
Hunter waited until the three soldiers were within ten feet of him to step out into the path. Startled, they slammed into each other. Tripping over Willis's feet, Hank would have fallen had Vernon not caught him by the scruff of the neck. They had left their muskets in camp, so Hunter wasn't worried about getting shot, but if they wanted a fight, he was ready.
"Did Washington decide I need help to scout?" he asked. "Or are you three just lost?"
Vernon had first planned to overtake Hunter in the woods and beat him senseless before the Indian knew who had hit him, but standing face-to-face with the brave, he lacked the courage to carry out his underhanded plot. He still loathed him though, and tried to make Hunter start the fight he was aching to have. He moved a step ahead of his friends.
"We was looking for you," he said.
"Why?"
"We don't like Indians who think they're better than us!"
Hunter eyed Vernon coldly. This was the first time anyone had come after him after he had put them in their place, but Hunter wasn't surprised that Vernon hadn't learned his lesson in one session. "Can you name a man who doesn't?" he asked.
Outraged by that sarcastic taunt, Vernon nearly strangled on a snarl, but it was Willis who carried him forward as he lunged for Hunter. With the finesse of a matador, the Indian stepped aside, and both Willis and Vernon landed facedown on the dusty trail. Cursing each other they struggled to get up, and when they succeeded, they found Hunter observing them with an amused smile.
"I'm going to kill you!" Vernon shrieked.
"No, you can only try." Hunter appeared relaxed, but he had shifted his weight forward to the balls of his feet, and was ready to block any punch Vernon might throw. He had learned how to fight with his fists at William Johnson's trading post, and he had never been beaten. "There isn't room here on the path. Let's go back to camp and settle our differences there."
Camp was the last place Vernon wished to go. "There's plenty of room for what I want to do to you!"
Hunter motioned for Vernon to come forward. "Show me you can do more than talk."
It was the cool disdain the Indian displayed that sent Vernon into a blind fury. He threw himself at Hunter, and again found his target shifting, while he was in midair. He put out his hands, but still landed so hard he knocked the wind out of himself. He lay gasping on the path and wondering how the Indian had managed to elude him again.
"Coward!" he gasped.
"I'm not the one crawling in the dirt," Hunter pointed out. He nodded toward Willis and Hank. "Carry your friend back to camp, and I'll fight all three of you there." With that he turned his back on them and walked away with a long, confident stride. He had yet to meet a white man who could throw a knife with sufficient accuracy to stab him in the back, so that possibility didn't alarm him. His hearing was as acute as his eyesight, and while he appeared to have forgotten them, he was listening to their every move.
Hank was on the verge of tears. "Get up! Get up!" he cried. Terrified he would have to fight Hunter alone, he yanked on the back of Vernon's shirt.