- Boone: There we was, eight months in the Kentucky frontier trappin' and skinnin' elk - well along my third bale - when they came upon us. No less than a dozen Shawnee hunters had us surrounded at the point of musket and arrow. My bush partner froze up stiff. The fear chilled me the same but I managed to muster what little Shawnee I was knowin'. The leader spoke too quick but I gathered we was poachin', havin' crossed into their territory a month or so hence. Their musket barrels stared us down - the heads of their arrows smilin' sharp at our backs. I bumbled a proposition in busted Shawnee: our full piece - my three bales and my partner's two less a half - in exchange for us quittin' the Shawnee bush on our own legs. Leader nods to his boys. They load up our take and start back into the trees. The honcho stays a spell longer just starin'. Starin' right through us with his two black eyes. And then he was gone. We picked up and set back east the way we came - months of profit lost but our own hides intact. Never saw the Shawnee again but I know they was followin' us. I could feel their eyes on our backs clear to North Carolina...
Connor looked for clues at the Frontiersman camp, and found the corpse of an explorer. A wolf attacked him, but he managed to kill it.
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