After a ride of close to nineteen or twenty miles across an open prairie of rolling hills, devoid of any meaningful tree growth, he spotted what appeared to be a sizable creek ahead. “Just about right,” he announced to Rascal. “We’ll find us a good spot and I’m gonna eat some of that deer meat you’re totin’.” When he reached the creek, he saw obvious signs that more than a few travelers had stopped on the banks to rest their horses. He turned Rascal upstream from the road and rode about a hundred yards before finding the spot that suited him. The notion to check the ashes of the old campfires close to the road never entered his mind. There was nothing cold ashes could tell him. He already knew he was a day, maybe a day and a half, behind the four outlaws. So, at this particular point, his interest was directed toward a clean campsite with grass for his horse and easy access to the water. While the buckskin was drinking water, Hawk gathered wood for his fire and soon had his little coffeepot working away. With some strips of venison roasting over the fire, he felt a sense of real contentment, like that he had when he had hunted with Bloody Hand. For days prior to this morning, his mind had wrestled with the question of whether or not it was his responsibility to continue following Booth. He had not been appointed by any authority to follow the four murderers. But he felt that, if he gave up the chase, then Booth and his cutthroats would likely disappear, never to answer for their evil crimes against the defenseless Quakers. So he had made his decision, and now he was at peace with it, so much so that he drifted off to sleep watching his horse grazing close to the creek.

He was awakened by the sound of Rascal pulling up grass close to his feet. His first reaction was to wonder how long he had been asleep. He looked up at the sun before checking his pocket watch. His watch read half past twelve. He had slept away the morning. His next thought was one of disbelief, for he was never one to sleep in the daytime. Now disgusted with himself for sleeping, he announced to the buckskin, “It’s a damn good thing there ain’t nobody tracking me ’cause I expect you’d have a new owner right now.”