Montgomery's party had followed the markers left by Hartung up the river to the place where the trail dropped into the broad valley, then had seen a cairn and an arrow made of stones that pointed through the marsh. They had made one camp in the marshland, and several men had built a rude blind by a large pond and shot several geese in the act of landing on its surface. They had feasted on roast goose and whiskey that night, and the festivities were at their height when Tate Hartung suddenly appeared, scaring Abner Thicke so bad he fell into the fire. "Where's Montgomery?" said Hartung.

Montgomery, jug in hand, approached the scout. "Hartung! Have a goddamn drink, boy! You did a fine job of laying trail for us!" Hartung's look froze Montgomery in his tracks. "And now," said the scout, "you want to alert them with your brouhaha and your bonfire. Put the fire out." Montgomery grinned, and pointed at Abner. "You heard the man! Make it snappy!" Hartung said "a word in private," and walked near the moon-lit pond. Montgomery saw the scout suddenly wince and grip his shoulder, and said "are you hurt?" Hartung sat upon a fallen cypress trunk. "It's nothing. I was clumsy," said Hartung, and Montgomery tried vainly to imagine the man doing anything "clumsy".

"Listen," said Hartung. "They are two miles ahead in a ramshackle cabin belonging to an old witch woman. We could try to take them there, but they are armed and the cabin is solid log. We'd have to lay seige, and the old lady has a month of supplies inside. So here's the plan : Four miles upstream, the river narrows as it comes out between two hills. The only path is along the stream and between cliffs on either side. It's very steep, and heavy with trees and fallen timber. We can hide ten men in there easy. I'll take this group and arrange an ambush. We'll leave tonight. There is an Indian lodge between here and the witch's house. We need to give it a wide berth, or they may tip off our prey. In the morning, I want you to head up the trail, making all the ruckus you can. Question the Indians at the lodge. Fire your rifles. I want the fugitives to run, and I want you to stay on their heels. When they reach the two hills, they'll be caught in a vise. They won't get past me. Make sure they don't escape past you."

Hartung picked the ten most sober men and left with them. They had ridden hard, and reached the two hills by sun up. Montgomery's men ate breakfast and broke camp, loading pack horses, strapping cookware on cookware to create maximum noise. The men were happy to fire at birds and rabbits they encountered on the trail through the swamp, since Montgomery commanded it. In several hours of slow traveling, they reached the Kickapoo lodge, deserted except for Wahkeeney, who had sent his family away, although his teenage son sat in a pine with rifle trained on the rowdy group's leader. Montgomery halted the men and walked his gray stallion up to Wahkeeney. "We are lookin for some people. Whites and blacks." The Indian smiled and shook his head, saying "no English!" Montgomery grinned back and produced a folded "wanted" poster with pictures of Gus, Millie, Willis and Lucius. He noted the sudden recognition in the Indian's eyes, even as the brave shook his head no. Montgomery said "that so?" and produced a Colt Navy Revolver, which he leaned over and pressed against Wahkeeney's forehead. He cocked it and said "take another look." The Indian closed his eyes, then calmly looked back at Montgomery and said "no slave, no see." The big man laughed and holstered his pistol, turning to holler "hear that boys? No slave, no see!" He spurred his horse, the others following. In the pine tree, his eldest son exhaled a deep breath and slung his rifle, climbing quickly down.

The posse rode slowly down the trail, and had gone scarcely a mile when they heard the sound of laughter. "We're too near" said Montgomery, and they backtracked several hundred yards before Lem was ordered to fire his shotgun in the air.