CHAPTER XXIBAGGING A BUFFALO

CHAPTER XXIBAGGING A BUFFALO“Therewas an arrow shot; I saw it sticking in the side of that buffalo before it fell over, after running off a little way!” whispered Sandy, excitedly, when both he and his brother dropped back again beside the Irish trapper.“And I saw that wolf holding a short bow!” gasped Bob.“Oh! how could that be?” Sandy exclaimed.“Whist! don’t spake so loud on yees life, me byes,” broke in Pat, holding up a warning finger. “There do be danger to us all, right here.”“Danger!” echoed Sandy; “from the buffalo?”“From the Injuns, be the powers,” added the trapper. “Not a worrd now, above the faintest whisper, do ye mind, till we lay our plans. ’Tis a ticklish job Pat has on his hands, so it is.”“Indians!” breathed the startled Sandy;and then, like a flash, a look of comprehension passed over his face. “Oh! now I understand what you mean. That old wolf isn’t what he pretends to be; but an Indian brave, covered with a wolfskin.”“Glory be! the bye has guessed it!” chuckled Pat, who could be amused even when facing imminent peril.“Can we peep again, Pat?” asked Bob, really eager to see how the cunning red hunter managed to accomplish the slaughter of the great buffalo.“Av ye be mighty careful, and do not make any quick move to atthract attention; becase the chances are, the hathen do be havin’ frinds clost by, ready to cut up the game whin he secures the same. Aisy now, Sandy, and take it slow. Just the tip av yer nose, do ye mind.”Accordingly both boys elevated their heads until they could just barely see above the top of the moving grass. The fact that Bob wore a cap made from the skin of a coon, with several striped tails hanging behind, while that perched on the head of his younger brother was fashioned out of gray squirrel skins, added much to their security, as they were less likely to be noticed by watchful eyes.two men crouched in brush looking at open plain“THEY COULD NOW PLAINLY DISCERN THE FIGURE UNDER THE WOLFSKIN.”The strange wolf was moving now in the direction of a buffalo cow, that seemed to be a little suspicious, since she shook her head several times, and looked toward the gray animal as though not wholly convinced that a single wolf might not mean harm to the herd.Presently the chance for which the red hunter waited seemed to come. The watching boys saw him suddenly rise up, as though on his knees; and they could now plainly discern the figure under the wolfskin. He carried a short bow, and undoubtedly one of great power, that was calculated to send a barbed shaft half way through even so great an animal as a buffalo.Bob was touching the arm of his brother at the time. He plainly felt Sandy start when they caught the peculiar “twang” of a bow-string, telling them that the red hunter had fired his shaft. The buffalo cow started to run away; but, after going a dozen feet or so, fell to her knees, tried to rise, gave a low bellow, and then rolled over on her side.Some of the remaining animals raised their heads, and looked in mild surprise; then went on cropping the grass again, as though their alarm had been short-lived.The two boys dropped back to the side of Pat, who had possibly also been watching this strange panorama, to be seen nowhere else on the broad earth.Bob looked at Sandy, and the other returned his amazed gaze with interest.“Did you see him do that job, and ain’t he able to use that short bow better’n any Indian you ever met?” whispered Sandy.“That’s why so many of the buffalo look like they’re sleeping,” Bob went on to say. “That Indian hunter has been killing them off. I guess he’s shot six or seven by now.”“But what will he do with all that meat; just eat the tongues?” Sandy asked.Bob turned to Pat, a question in his eye, and the trapper, holding up that warning finger to make sure that they kept their voices toned down, so that they could not be heard above the rustle of the long grass in the breeze, answered him.“Jerk it for winter use; d’ye mind?” was all he said, but the boys understood.They had been in an Indian village, and seen how the surplus venison or buffalo meat was dried in strips. This jerked meat was stored away for the time when game might bescarce, or the red hunters felt indisposed to leave their comfortable wigwams to look for it. And, whenever a runner was sent on a long journey, this tough meat formed his sole stay while on the way. It required no cooking, and a piece put in the mouth could be masticated by degrees, serving the useful purpose of keeping the jaws working, and at the same time affording sustenance to the body.“But this upsets all our plans,” complained Sandy, who did not see how they were to make any attempt at getting a buffalo, when possibly a dozen red hunters were close by, waiting until their comrade with the short bow and the killing arrows had completed his bloody butcher business.“Oh! I doan’t know,” remarked Pat, rubbing his chin with his hand, as though considering some idea that had crept into his active mind.Of course both lads turned eagerly on their companion. They seemed to view his few words, and his manner, as suggesting hope.“You’ve thought of something, Pat; please tell us what it is, for I do hope we can find a way to get our share of all this meat,” Sandy asked, anxiously.“Arrah, now, listen to me, wud yees?” whispered the trapper. “And mebbe afther all we can sacure what we came out to kerry home, a pack av juicy mate. D’ye mind that the first young bull I saw a-runnin’ off had an arrow stickin’ in his side; but he managed to go some distance afore droppin’ to the ground? Whin I saw him last he was just passin’ beyant the bunch av timber that stands to the lift, it might be a quarrter av a mile. An’, saing as he niver showed up agin, the chances are he fell there. Me ijee is to worrk around in that quarrter, and whin the hunt is over, and the reds do be busy skinnin’ an’ cuttin’ up the game, what is to hinder the three av us from securin’ all we want from the carcase av the young bull as lies out yonder? Sure the trees wull be afther consalin’ us from the eyes av the Injun hunters; an’, by the same token, it may be they niver noticed that animal at all, at all!”The proposition struck both boys as a splendid one. They nodded their heads, and their eyes sparkled; and Pat needed nothing more to tell him that his plan met with their unqualified approbation.“Hadn’t we better be backing out of thisthen, right away?” suggested Sandy, always ready to act.“Yis, but be mighty careful,” advised the trapper. “Av we have not been sane up till now, we doan’t want to spile the broth by anny undue haste. Aisy it is, byes.”So they retreated in the same track by which they had advanced, and there came no sound or sign to tell them that their presence in the vicinity had been noticed by the other red hunters, doubtless crouching likewise in the grass, and waiting for the time to come when they might burst into view, to take a last shot at the remnant of the buffalo herd, by that time alarmed and in full flight.It stood to reason that these eager hunters would have eyes only for the game, and this accounted for the fact that the palefaces had not been discovered.Pat would take no unnecessary chances, however, daring though he was by nature. He felt a weight upon his shoulders, since he had been trusted with the responsibility of Mr. Armstrong’s two sons; and wished to account for them both when they came to the boat again.By degrees, after going back to the timberbelt, they managed to move around until they had reached a point directly behind the patch of trees to which Pat had called their attention a while previously.“I saw something there that looked like a buffalo on the ground,” whispered Sandy, after they had been crawling forward again for several minutes.“It’s all right!” declared Pat. “The young bull niver pulled out at all. And ’twas his carcase ye saw, sure. We’re in great luck, so we be, lads.”“Oh! listen to that!” exclaimed Sandy, as a series of wild yells broke out.“The game is ended, and the balance of the herd has taken off,” declared Bob.They raised their heads to watch, and it was a sight well worth seeing, with the lumbering buffalo dashing away in a compact mass, and here and there an Indian brave popping up from the long grass, to discharge his arrow at the fleeing animals.But they did not seem to drop any, as the distance was too great; so presently they could be seen hurrying back toward the spot where quite a number of slain animals awaited their attention.“There must be one to every brave,” declared Bob.“So much the better,” remarked Pat; “av it kapes thim busy for the nixt hour or so, while we sacure our mate. This way, lads, and kape quiet on yer lives.”They made their way to the side of the fallen young bull, and Sandy’s eyes glistened when he realized what a piece of good luck had come their way; when it might just as well have been a tough old fellow they were given the chance to carve.Pat posted each of the boys at a certain spot to keep watch. They were to give him a signal if any of the red hunters approached to look up the animal which had fallen behind the patch of trees, and which had undoubtedly been marked by their keen, all-seeing eyes.There were only about nine of the Indians, Sandy had said as he left his companions; and his tone told Bob how he must be figuring on their chances, should the adventure wind up in a fight; for Sandy would never consent to abandon such a fine store of buffalo meat, if it could possibly be avoided.From the spot where he was posted Bob could easily see the Indians working over theslain animals that had fallen before the deadly arrows of the hunter who had made use of the skin of a wolf, and kept to the leeward of the herd, in order that they might not catch his scent, and take the alarm.He could not but feel a certain thrill as he watched them work, knowing that, if they dreamed of the presence of the hated palefaces near by, they would only too quickly drop their operations, and go on the war-path, looking for scalps.And yet Bob would have been glad to have had an opportunity to watch how the whole process of curing the meat was carried out, because he always felt a great interest in such things.He lay there for a very long time, it seemed to him. At least on three separate occasions he feared the time had come when discovery could not be avoided, and that one of the busy braves meant to look for the bull that had fallen further off than any of the rest. But, on each occasion, it proved to be a false alarm, and Bob found no need of whistling like a quail to warn Pat, so that the trapper might be on his guard.And then, when Bob was beginning to bevery nervous, under the belief that discovery could not now be long delayed, he caught the whistle of a gopher, thrice repeated. This had been the signal by means of which Pat would let the boys know he had completed his task, and that they were to join him without delay.So Bob quickly crawled back, at times taking to his heels, and bending low, so as to keep under the curtain of long grass.He arrived at just the same time as Sandy; and they were delighted to find that the expert Pat had not only succeeded in cutting up the young bull, but had three packs of the best portions of the meat ready to be transported.Making use of the trees as a means to hide their retreat, the three whites succeeded in getting away without attracting the notice of the Indian buffalo hunters. Pat had purposely blinded the trail, as he came along last of all. He hoped that, when one of the Indians approached the spot, and saw that the bull had already been attended to, he would turn around without making an examination, under the belief that another of the band had been ahead of him.Something of the sort must really have happened, for, though the boys kept on the alert forhalf an hour, listening, and expecting to catch shrill yells of anger from the back trail, nothing of the kind came to pass. And more than once Bob saw Sandy start when he heard a bird rustle the grass near by, as though he half expected to see a feathered head thrust up, and come face to face with an enraged Indian warrior.They reached in safety the spot where the flatboat was tied up, and great was the rejoicing of the entire company at sight of the toothsome burdens the three hunters carried on their backs. Around the little fire that afternoon the story was told of the wolf that handled a bow with such deadly accuracy; and the Yankee boy, Amos Terry, who was something of a greenhorn concerning all woodcraft, sat there with his eyes “as big as saucers,” as Sandy expressed it, hardly knowing whether to believe the tale or not.But Pat was a little uneasy concerning the possible coming of the Indians, and made up his mind to keep an extra careful watch that night.Taken all in all, the members of the company were delighted with things as they found them. Mr. Armstrong had discovered that the soilwas of wonderful fertility, entirely different from that of the Ohio hills where their first home had been located; the women were pleased with the countless wild flowers that dotted the long grass of the level prairie; while Sandy and Bob already believed that the region near the Mississippi must be like the Indian “Happy Hunting Grounds,” and that game would be three times as abundant as they had ever known in the past.

“Therewas an arrow shot; I saw it sticking in the side of that buffalo before it fell over, after running off a little way!” whispered Sandy, excitedly, when both he and his brother dropped back again beside the Irish trapper.

“And I saw that wolf holding a short bow!” gasped Bob.

“Oh! how could that be?” Sandy exclaimed.

“Whist! don’t spake so loud on yees life, me byes,” broke in Pat, holding up a warning finger. “There do be danger to us all, right here.”

“Danger!” echoed Sandy; “from the buffalo?”

“From the Injuns, be the powers,” added the trapper. “Not a worrd now, above the faintest whisper, do ye mind, till we lay our plans. ’Tis a ticklish job Pat has on his hands, so it is.”

“Indians!” breathed the startled Sandy;and then, like a flash, a look of comprehension passed over his face. “Oh! now I understand what you mean. That old wolf isn’t what he pretends to be; but an Indian brave, covered with a wolfskin.”

“Glory be! the bye has guessed it!” chuckled Pat, who could be amused even when facing imminent peril.

“Can we peep again, Pat?” asked Bob, really eager to see how the cunning red hunter managed to accomplish the slaughter of the great buffalo.

“Av ye be mighty careful, and do not make any quick move to atthract attention; becase the chances are, the hathen do be havin’ frinds clost by, ready to cut up the game whin he secures the same. Aisy now, Sandy, and take it slow. Just the tip av yer nose, do ye mind.”

Accordingly both boys elevated their heads until they could just barely see above the top of the moving grass. The fact that Bob wore a cap made from the skin of a coon, with several striped tails hanging behind, while that perched on the head of his younger brother was fashioned out of gray squirrel skins, added much to their security, as they were less likely to be noticed by watchful eyes.

two men crouched in brush looking at open plain“THEY COULD NOW PLAINLY DISCERN THE FIGURE UNDER THE WOLFSKIN.”

“THEY COULD NOW PLAINLY DISCERN THE FIGURE UNDER THE WOLFSKIN.”

The strange wolf was moving now in the direction of a buffalo cow, that seemed to be a little suspicious, since she shook her head several times, and looked toward the gray animal as though not wholly convinced that a single wolf might not mean harm to the herd.

Presently the chance for which the red hunter waited seemed to come. The watching boys saw him suddenly rise up, as though on his knees; and they could now plainly discern the figure under the wolfskin. He carried a short bow, and undoubtedly one of great power, that was calculated to send a barbed shaft half way through even so great an animal as a buffalo.

Bob was touching the arm of his brother at the time. He plainly felt Sandy start when they caught the peculiar “twang” of a bow-string, telling them that the red hunter had fired his shaft. The buffalo cow started to run away; but, after going a dozen feet or so, fell to her knees, tried to rise, gave a low bellow, and then rolled over on her side.

Some of the remaining animals raised their heads, and looked in mild surprise; then went on cropping the grass again, as though their alarm had been short-lived.

The two boys dropped back to the side of Pat, who had possibly also been watching this strange panorama, to be seen nowhere else on the broad earth.

Bob looked at Sandy, and the other returned his amazed gaze with interest.

“Did you see him do that job, and ain’t he able to use that short bow better’n any Indian you ever met?” whispered Sandy.

“That’s why so many of the buffalo look like they’re sleeping,” Bob went on to say. “That Indian hunter has been killing them off. I guess he’s shot six or seven by now.”

“But what will he do with all that meat; just eat the tongues?” Sandy asked.

Bob turned to Pat, a question in his eye, and the trapper, holding up that warning finger to make sure that they kept their voices toned down, so that they could not be heard above the rustle of the long grass in the breeze, answered him.

“Jerk it for winter use; d’ye mind?” was all he said, but the boys understood.

They had been in an Indian village, and seen how the surplus venison or buffalo meat was dried in strips. This jerked meat was stored away for the time when game might bescarce, or the red hunters felt indisposed to leave their comfortable wigwams to look for it. And, whenever a runner was sent on a long journey, this tough meat formed his sole stay while on the way. It required no cooking, and a piece put in the mouth could be masticated by degrees, serving the useful purpose of keeping the jaws working, and at the same time affording sustenance to the body.

“But this upsets all our plans,” complained Sandy, who did not see how they were to make any attempt at getting a buffalo, when possibly a dozen red hunters were close by, waiting until their comrade with the short bow and the killing arrows had completed his bloody butcher business.

“Oh! I doan’t know,” remarked Pat, rubbing his chin with his hand, as though considering some idea that had crept into his active mind.

Of course both lads turned eagerly on their companion. They seemed to view his few words, and his manner, as suggesting hope.

“You’ve thought of something, Pat; please tell us what it is, for I do hope we can find a way to get our share of all this meat,” Sandy asked, anxiously.

“Arrah, now, listen to me, wud yees?” whispered the trapper. “And mebbe afther all we can sacure what we came out to kerry home, a pack av juicy mate. D’ye mind that the first young bull I saw a-runnin’ off had an arrow stickin’ in his side; but he managed to go some distance afore droppin’ to the ground? Whin I saw him last he was just passin’ beyant the bunch av timber that stands to the lift, it might be a quarrter av a mile. An’, saing as he niver showed up agin, the chances are he fell there. Me ijee is to worrk around in that quarrter, and whin the hunt is over, and the reds do be busy skinnin’ an’ cuttin’ up the game, what is to hinder the three av us from securin’ all we want from the carcase av the young bull as lies out yonder? Sure the trees wull be afther consalin’ us from the eyes av the Injun hunters; an’, by the same token, it may be they niver noticed that animal at all, at all!”

The proposition struck both boys as a splendid one. They nodded their heads, and their eyes sparkled; and Pat needed nothing more to tell him that his plan met with their unqualified approbation.

“Hadn’t we better be backing out of thisthen, right away?” suggested Sandy, always ready to act.

“Yis, but be mighty careful,” advised the trapper. “Av we have not been sane up till now, we doan’t want to spile the broth by anny undue haste. Aisy it is, byes.”

So they retreated in the same track by which they had advanced, and there came no sound or sign to tell them that their presence in the vicinity had been noticed by the other red hunters, doubtless crouching likewise in the grass, and waiting for the time to come when they might burst into view, to take a last shot at the remnant of the buffalo herd, by that time alarmed and in full flight.

It stood to reason that these eager hunters would have eyes only for the game, and this accounted for the fact that the palefaces had not been discovered.

Pat would take no unnecessary chances, however, daring though he was by nature. He felt a weight upon his shoulders, since he had been trusted with the responsibility of Mr. Armstrong’s two sons; and wished to account for them both when they came to the boat again.

By degrees, after going back to the timberbelt, they managed to move around until they had reached a point directly behind the patch of trees to which Pat had called their attention a while previously.

“I saw something there that looked like a buffalo on the ground,” whispered Sandy, after they had been crawling forward again for several minutes.

“It’s all right!” declared Pat. “The young bull niver pulled out at all. And ’twas his carcase ye saw, sure. We’re in great luck, so we be, lads.”

“Oh! listen to that!” exclaimed Sandy, as a series of wild yells broke out.

“The game is ended, and the balance of the herd has taken off,” declared Bob.

They raised their heads to watch, and it was a sight well worth seeing, with the lumbering buffalo dashing away in a compact mass, and here and there an Indian brave popping up from the long grass, to discharge his arrow at the fleeing animals.

But they did not seem to drop any, as the distance was too great; so presently they could be seen hurrying back toward the spot where quite a number of slain animals awaited their attention.

“There must be one to every brave,” declared Bob.

“So much the better,” remarked Pat; “av it kapes thim busy for the nixt hour or so, while we sacure our mate. This way, lads, and kape quiet on yer lives.”

They made their way to the side of the fallen young bull, and Sandy’s eyes glistened when he realized what a piece of good luck had come their way; when it might just as well have been a tough old fellow they were given the chance to carve.

Pat posted each of the boys at a certain spot to keep watch. They were to give him a signal if any of the red hunters approached to look up the animal which had fallen behind the patch of trees, and which had undoubtedly been marked by their keen, all-seeing eyes.

There were only about nine of the Indians, Sandy had said as he left his companions; and his tone told Bob how he must be figuring on their chances, should the adventure wind up in a fight; for Sandy would never consent to abandon such a fine store of buffalo meat, if it could possibly be avoided.

From the spot where he was posted Bob could easily see the Indians working over theslain animals that had fallen before the deadly arrows of the hunter who had made use of the skin of a wolf, and kept to the leeward of the herd, in order that they might not catch his scent, and take the alarm.

He could not but feel a certain thrill as he watched them work, knowing that, if they dreamed of the presence of the hated palefaces near by, they would only too quickly drop their operations, and go on the war-path, looking for scalps.

And yet Bob would have been glad to have had an opportunity to watch how the whole process of curing the meat was carried out, because he always felt a great interest in such things.

He lay there for a very long time, it seemed to him. At least on three separate occasions he feared the time had come when discovery could not be avoided, and that one of the busy braves meant to look for the bull that had fallen further off than any of the rest. But, on each occasion, it proved to be a false alarm, and Bob found no need of whistling like a quail to warn Pat, so that the trapper might be on his guard.

And then, when Bob was beginning to bevery nervous, under the belief that discovery could not now be long delayed, he caught the whistle of a gopher, thrice repeated. This had been the signal by means of which Pat would let the boys know he had completed his task, and that they were to join him without delay.

So Bob quickly crawled back, at times taking to his heels, and bending low, so as to keep under the curtain of long grass.

He arrived at just the same time as Sandy; and they were delighted to find that the expert Pat had not only succeeded in cutting up the young bull, but had three packs of the best portions of the meat ready to be transported.

Making use of the trees as a means to hide their retreat, the three whites succeeded in getting away without attracting the notice of the Indian buffalo hunters. Pat had purposely blinded the trail, as he came along last of all. He hoped that, when one of the Indians approached the spot, and saw that the bull had already been attended to, he would turn around without making an examination, under the belief that another of the band had been ahead of him.

Something of the sort must really have happened, for, though the boys kept on the alert forhalf an hour, listening, and expecting to catch shrill yells of anger from the back trail, nothing of the kind came to pass. And more than once Bob saw Sandy start when he heard a bird rustle the grass near by, as though he half expected to see a feathered head thrust up, and come face to face with an enraged Indian warrior.

They reached in safety the spot where the flatboat was tied up, and great was the rejoicing of the entire company at sight of the toothsome burdens the three hunters carried on their backs. Around the little fire that afternoon the story was told of the wolf that handled a bow with such deadly accuracy; and the Yankee boy, Amos Terry, who was something of a greenhorn concerning all woodcraft, sat there with his eyes “as big as saucers,” as Sandy expressed it, hardly knowing whether to believe the tale or not.

But Pat was a little uneasy concerning the possible coming of the Indians, and made up his mind to keep an extra careful watch that night.

Taken all in all, the members of the company were delighted with things as they found them. Mr. Armstrong had discovered that the soilwas of wonderful fertility, entirely different from that of the Ohio hills where their first home had been located; the women were pleased with the countless wild flowers that dotted the long grass of the level prairie; while Sandy and Bob already believed that the region near the Mississippi must be like the Indian “Happy Hunting Grounds,” and that game would be three times as abundant as they had ever known in the past.

CHAPTER XXIIAT THE SETTING OF THE EVENING STARThedaring voyagers on the beamy flatboat knew that no matter how their adventure might turn out in the end, whether for good or evil, at least they were now on the home stretch. It was only a question of a few days before they would be able to feast their eager eyes on that great stream of which they had heard so much.Their caution did not decrease, however. They realized that enemies might lurk in the trees that bordered the river, and even amid the beds of waving green reeds in marshy places, which were capable of concealing treacherous foes, ready to let slip the swift arrow, or discharge the French guns with which the unscrupulous traders at the numerous posts were supplying the various tribes.Nor was this all they had to fear. The closer they came to the valley of the Mississippi the more peril they faced. Indians were had enough; but, deep down in their hearts, thepioneers dreaded an encounter with the outlaw trappers who, belonging to the old-time foe of England, had ever been a thorn in the flesh of those who would people the vast wilderness beyond the Alleghanies. (Note 11.)Mr. Armstrong fully expected to have to fight for his new possession. He believed, however, that, if they could only manage to hold out until the second detachment arrived, to augment their force, all might be well.As for Sandy, he was daily showing more and more signs of excitement. The dearest dream of his life was coming true; and, when presently he could feast his eyes on the rolling flood of the greatest of all rivers, he would feel contented—for a little while, at least.They were hardly a day without some new thrill.Now it was the sight of an Indian village in full view on the shore, with the smoke curling up from several fires, where the squaws seemed to be curing meat by some primitive process. Mr. Armstrong imagined that most of the warriors must be off on another grand hunt; for, while many old men, squaws and papooses crowded to the edge of the water, and loud derisive shouts floated to the ears of thevoyagers, there was no effort made to man the canoes and attack the drifting flatboat.Occasionally they discovered some lone brave in a small craft, hunting the wild water birds that still remained in quantities at certain favored places, while their feathered companions had swept away by millions to far northern breeding-grounds, to return again in the autumn months.Mr. Armstrong made it a point to have one of the men aboard the flatboat call out something in French whenever the chance arose. His object was to make the red hunters believe that the passengers and crew belonged to the nation with which the western tribes had long been at peace. He believed that all such devices were fair in war times; and that such an impression, if scattered broadcast among the Indians, was apt to save the little party from many hazards.But they were not always free from sudden perils that seemed to come like bolts from a clear sky.One night they had tied up to the southern shore, as usual. So far as Pat O’Mara had been able to decide, there need be no fear of Indians, although of course they meant to keepup a constant watch, so as to guard against a surprise.Supper had been cooked ashore, since they had become so tired of their confined quarters aboard the boat that every chance to stretch their limbs was eagerly seized upon, even though they realized that the greatest element of safety lay in remaining back of that stout bulwark formed by the sides of their floating home.The good mothers were busily engaged putting the smaller children to sleep, while the men sat around the small fire, smoking and comparing notes as to how long they would be in reaching their destination.It was a subject that they never wearied of talking about, since all their hopes were bound up now in building those new homes that they kept picturing in their family councils. The men did not mind this roving existence so much, for they had become reconciled to discomforts; but the wives and mothers yearned for the conclusion of the long and wearisome voyage. They missed all the conveniences of the cabins to which they were accustomed. In these later days a housekeeper would be apt to smile upon learning what little constituted the full assortmentof “comforts” which made up the life of one of those pioneer women; but it was all they had ever known, and a spinning-wheel, with the flax that went with it, meant a supply of clothing for the family that could be procured in no other way.One of the men had been posted at a certain point where it was believed he would be able to discover the slightest sign of an approaching enemy, and the balance rested in full confidence of their safety.Bob and Sandy had taken a notion to look over some of their highly-prized traps which might need oiling; for they wanted them to be in the best of condition when they started their fall campaign in the new country.They sat so that they might receive the benefit of the blaze that still kept up, as new fuel was occasionally added to the little fire, the evening being rather chilly, considering how far the season was advanced.And as they polished, or rubbed some bear’s grease on the traps that had seen long service through rain, snow and fair weather, the boys talked, as they nearly always did, about the prospects that were so soon to be realized.“Father thinks two more days ought tobring us to where the Ohio empties into the Mississippi,” remarked Sandy, rubbing vigorously the while.“I only hope he is right, and that two nights from now we’ll be camped on the shore of that wonderful river,” Bob replied, stopping his work to critically examine it, so as to see whether anything more could be done to keep that particular trap from being eaten by rust.“What was that dropped down just beside you, Bob?” suddenly asked the younger boy, staring hard as he spoke.“I heard something fall, but I supposed it was a nut dropped by a squirrel,” replied Bob, at the same time placing the trap on the ground while he leaned over to examine. “I never saw the squirrels and raccoons so tame as they are along here. Really now, I believe they would almost take a piece of mother’s hoe-cake right out of my hand. Where was it you saw the nut fall, Sandy? Am I near it now? Tell me when I get warmer or colder, like we do in that game the girls liked to play back in Virginia.”“There, it must have been about where your hand is now; and—why, what is that?” and Sandy stared with all his might at the objectBob was holding up in his hand. “An arrow! An Indian arrow! Oh! some prowling red wolf has been trying to shoot us down as we sit here. What a narrow escape you had!”“Wait, Sandy!” exclaimed Bob, quickly, and with that vein of authority in his voice which he at times almost unconsciously assumed when endeavoring to check the hasty actions of his younger brother. “Look again, and perhaps you may remember seeing just such an arrow as this before.”Sandy sank back in his seat, as though his sudden fright had passed away.“Oh! it is the same Delaware arrow!” he cried. “Our good, but unknown friend has once more sent us a warning that danger hangs over our heads! Pull the message off, Bob, and let us see what it says! How splendid of this strange protector to follow us all the way from our old home, away up the Ohio, to this new land. What could we have done to deserve such kindness, such faithfulness?”Bob had not been idle all the time Sandy was talking. As before, there was a strip of birch bark fastened to the stout reed that constituted the shaft of the feathered arrow, bearing the Delaware flint barb.Again were crude but easily understood figures scratched upon the light brown side of the bark; this time they were very numerous, and told a story as plain as though it had been printed with types.There was a campfire, and a tied-up flatboat, which must belong to them. About that fire a number of people seemed to be leisurely taking their ease. Stars dotted what was intended for the sky overhead; and one large one in particular was just above the horizon, indicated by a straight line. Many recumbent figures, with feathers, different in arrangement from any seen before, adorning their scalplocks, were evidently crawling up through the long grass, coming from both sides. They carried bows and arrows, and a few of them guns.Sandy looked at the drawing, holding his very breath meanwhile.“It means that we will be attacked by a tribe of Indians we’ve never met before, doesn’t it?” he demanded. “Because, I remember how the Shawanees, the Delawares, the Pottawottomies, the Senecas, the Miamis and the Hurons wear feathers in their hair when on the war-path, and these are different.”“Yes, I think you are right, Sandy,” repliedthe other; “but an Indian must always be an Indian to us, if he is hostile. Do you notice how he has drawn this big star close down to the level of the horizon? That must be meant for the evening star up yonder; and the attack is planned for the time of its setting.”“Which will come in another hour, Bob,” Sandy went on, feverishly. “Come, let us gather all our traps together, and get them aboard. I’ll look after that; and do you show our father what our kind friend has done for the Armstrongs for the third time.”“Just what I was going to say to you, Sandy,” remarked Bob. “But remember, you must not look so excited, for many reasons. Why, right now, at this very minute, how do we know but that a number of savage Indians may be watching us, ready to send in a shower of arrows if they understand that we have guessed their game? Go about your work just as if we didn’t have the least suspicion of danger.”“I will, Bob, you can depend on me; and what you say is good, hard sense, every word of it. I only wish I could keep myself held down, and cool, as you do. But it just seemsas though something inside of me is always ready to jump at the very first sign of excitement. But there’s father looking this way now. Perhaps he has discovered that you are holding an arrow in your hands, and wonders where you got it. Please go over and beg of him to get aboard with mother and Kate right away. And hold on to your gun—hold on to your gun!”This last piece of advice was wholly unnecessary, for Bob was determined to be in a condition to help defend the boat, should a sudden emergency arise before the time set for the attack.While Sandy hurried to get the bunch of traps aboard, and return to the shore again, Bob sauntered over to where his father stood, and as quietly as possible explained what had happened.“You have a long head, for a boy, son,” was what Mr. Armstrong remarked, as his hand fell affectionately on Bob’s shoulder; and such few words of praise always made the boy’s heart thrill with pride, for his greatest ambition was to deserve the commendation of those who were nearest and dearest to him. “We will try to let the men know, without showingany undue alarm. The sentry, too, must be informed, so that he may come in, and be ready to spring for the boat at the signal.”This was soon accomplished. Then, at the given word, everybody leaped for the side of the boat. Instantly a scene of great excitement followed. A gun sounded, and a number of arrows came hurtling through the air, to strike the side of the cabin; while blood-curdling yells arose from a point near by, showing where the enemy had been crawling up all the while the voyagers rested under the belief that they were safely guarded.Fortunately no one was severely hurt by these feathered shafts, fired so hastily, and without proper aim, though Mr. Bancroft, who had been on guard, and had further to run than any of the rest, received one through the fleshy part of his left arm as he climbed up the side of the boat.But by now the guns of the whites began to answer back, and the Indians, who were coming headlong through the brush, evidently meaning to follow them aboard, met with such a hot reception that they were glad to drop flat, and creep behind trees or rocks.“Cut the cable free!” shouted Mr. Armstrong.“Keep the women under shelter, and let every gun be ready to repel boarders, if they come on again!”He himself boldly seized one of the push poles, and threw his whole weight upon it, the instant the cable had been released that held the upper end of the boat to a tree.Arrows hurtled around him in a cloud, and it seemed as though he must surely be struck down at any second; but Mr. Armstrong appeared to bear a charmed life, for he did not receive even a trivial wound.The boat was already moving with the sluggish current close to the shore. It was fortunate that all these things had been prepared for at the time they tied up there. In the time of necessity a second might mean safety or disaster to those hardy souls who had entrusted their all to a slender chance.Seeing that their expected quarry was leaving them in the lurch, the Indians increased their fire; and then some of the more rash among them rushed into full view, as though meaning to board the craft.But they counted without their host. Those frontiersmen knew how to defend their craft desperately. They never pulled trigger withoutlessening the number of their assailants. Bob and Sandy were on the firing line, and had no sooner discharged their muskets than they set to work with feverish haste to get another load rammed home again.Several of the Indians managed to dash through the water up to the waist, and started to make their way aboard; but clubbed guns smote those feathered heads with such unerring skill that not a single bronzed warrior ever set foot on deck.Now the boat was leaving the shore, influenced by the sweep, which two of the voyagers managed to work fairly well. The danger seemed over, and lusty shouts broke from the lips of the defenders of the craft as they noted that the scene of the late battle was being left far behind, with the baffled Indians giving short, sharp yelps, like wolves that have been cheated out of their prey.“Well done!” exclaimed Mr. Armstrong, breathing freely for the first time since he had heard Bob tell how the warning arrow had fallen close at his side. “And now, Neighbor Bancroft, let us look at that wound you’ve received. I can pull the arrow through easier than break or withdraw it. A painful but nota dangerous wound; you must let my wife bathe it, and put on some of her magic salve.”“I only hope the heathen have not taken to poisoning their arrows,” remarked Mr. Bancroft; and Bob and Sandy exchanged glances.It happened that, many months before, one of them had watched an Iroquois brave irritate a rattle-snake with a pole until he had the reptile in a furious mood, and then allow it to strike a piece of fresh meat many times, filling it with the green venom from his poison sack. After this meat had become impregnated with the virus, arrow points were dipped in it and allowed to dry until each had been thoroughly infected. But it was seldom the Indians used such terrible weapons; somehow they seemed to be bound by some code of honor that influenced them to refrain from adding to the seriousness of an arrow wound.Pat came up, and by the light of a lantern, held by one of the boys, helped Mr. Armstrong draw the arrow through the wound, for it was nearly half-way out, and could not be broken without additional pain to the victim.Then Bob’s mother, who was a splendid nurse, came to dress the wound, and applysome of her salve, upon which every one relied so completely.Bob had been keeping an eye on Pat, who he saw was examining the arrow closely. As Pat was well acquainted with the peculiarities of the many separate Indian tribes, as connected with their arrows and head-dress of feathers, Bob felt positive that he could tell him what he wanted to know.“That is no Shawanee arrow, Pat, I take it?” he remarked.“That’s jist it, Bob, me bye,” the trapper declared, nodding as he looked up. “No Shawanee brave iver made his arrow afther the likes av that. Sac, I says till mesilf, as soon as I set me eyes on it, an’ Sac I says shtill. They do be the manest rids av the whole bunch, I’m thinkin’; though, belave me, I’d hisitate to say that same in the prisince av Mrs. Armstrong, bliss her swate heart for an angel, wid her healin’ salve an’ her coolin’ lotions, becase she has been thryin’ to belave that all the bad Injuns has been lift behint entirely; whin the thruth be, there’s jist as many out along the ould Mississippi as we knew afore.”After passing down several miles in the semi-darkness they anchored the boat off abar, and kept close watch until dawn brought safety; when the voyage was resumed, with grateful hearts that another peril had been safely passed, thanks to that unknown red friend who had a debt to settle with the Armstrong boys.Still another night passed, and again they slept on board, for the women were averse to taking any more chances. This brought them to the day when, according to all the figuring done by Mr. Armstrong, assisted by what knowledge Pat O’Mara had on the subject, they should be close to the place of the joining of the two great rivers.All morning long they kept a vigil. Eager eyes looked ahead, in the hope of discovering the mighty stream which had lured them all the way from their old home far up the picturesque Ohio.The afternoon was pretty well advanced when Sandy gave a whoop that was characteristic of the lad. No need to ask what made him leap about so boisterously, waving his coonskin cap around his head. Every eye turned in the direction of the expected vision; and, when they saw the great sweep of water that lay ahead, with its further shore but dimlymarked against the western horizon, a silence fell upon them.It was indeed the Mississippi that spread before the eyes of that brave little company, up to then almost a sealed book to English colonists, though well known to the French trappers and traders, whose cordon of posts from north to south united Canada with the warm regions of the gulf.They had finally come to the region where their new home was to be built—on the bank of the Mississippi.

Thedaring voyagers on the beamy flatboat knew that no matter how their adventure might turn out in the end, whether for good or evil, at least they were now on the home stretch. It was only a question of a few days before they would be able to feast their eager eyes on that great stream of which they had heard so much.

Their caution did not decrease, however. They realized that enemies might lurk in the trees that bordered the river, and even amid the beds of waving green reeds in marshy places, which were capable of concealing treacherous foes, ready to let slip the swift arrow, or discharge the French guns with which the unscrupulous traders at the numerous posts were supplying the various tribes.

Nor was this all they had to fear. The closer they came to the valley of the Mississippi the more peril they faced. Indians were had enough; but, deep down in their hearts, thepioneers dreaded an encounter with the outlaw trappers who, belonging to the old-time foe of England, had ever been a thorn in the flesh of those who would people the vast wilderness beyond the Alleghanies. (Note 11.)

Mr. Armstrong fully expected to have to fight for his new possession. He believed, however, that, if they could only manage to hold out until the second detachment arrived, to augment their force, all might be well.

As for Sandy, he was daily showing more and more signs of excitement. The dearest dream of his life was coming true; and, when presently he could feast his eyes on the rolling flood of the greatest of all rivers, he would feel contented—for a little while, at least.

They were hardly a day without some new thrill.

Now it was the sight of an Indian village in full view on the shore, with the smoke curling up from several fires, where the squaws seemed to be curing meat by some primitive process. Mr. Armstrong imagined that most of the warriors must be off on another grand hunt; for, while many old men, squaws and papooses crowded to the edge of the water, and loud derisive shouts floated to the ears of thevoyagers, there was no effort made to man the canoes and attack the drifting flatboat.

Occasionally they discovered some lone brave in a small craft, hunting the wild water birds that still remained in quantities at certain favored places, while their feathered companions had swept away by millions to far northern breeding-grounds, to return again in the autumn months.

Mr. Armstrong made it a point to have one of the men aboard the flatboat call out something in French whenever the chance arose. His object was to make the red hunters believe that the passengers and crew belonged to the nation with which the western tribes had long been at peace. He believed that all such devices were fair in war times; and that such an impression, if scattered broadcast among the Indians, was apt to save the little party from many hazards.

But they were not always free from sudden perils that seemed to come like bolts from a clear sky.

One night they had tied up to the southern shore, as usual. So far as Pat O’Mara had been able to decide, there need be no fear of Indians, although of course they meant to keepup a constant watch, so as to guard against a surprise.

Supper had been cooked ashore, since they had become so tired of their confined quarters aboard the boat that every chance to stretch their limbs was eagerly seized upon, even though they realized that the greatest element of safety lay in remaining back of that stout bulwark formed by the sides of their floating home.

The good mothers were busily engaged putting the smaller children to sleep, while the men sat around the small fire, smoking and comparing notes as to how long they would be in reaching their destination.

It was a subject that they never wearied of talking about, since all their hopes were bound up now in building those new homes that they kept picturing in their family councils. The men did not mind this roving existence so much, for they had become reconciled to discomforts; but the wives and mothers yearned for the conclusion of the long and wearisome voyage. They missed all the conveniences of the cabins to which they were accustomed. In these later days a housekeeper would be apt to smile upon learning what little constituted the full assortmentof “comforts” which made up the life of one of those pioneer women; but it was all they had ever known, and a spinning-wheel, with the flax that went with it, meant a supply of clothing for the family that could be procured in no other way.

One of the men had been posted at a certain point where it was believed he would be able to discover the slightest sign of an approaching enemy, and the balance rested in full confidence of their safety.

Bob and Sandy had taken a notion to look over some of their highly-prized traps which might need oiling; for they wanted them to be in the best of condition when they started their fall campaign in the new country.

They sat so that they might receive the benefit of the blaze that still kept up, as new fuel was occasionally added to the little fire, the evening being rather chilly, considering how far the season was advanced.

And as they polished, or rubbed some bear’s grease on the traps that had seen long service through rain, snow and fair weather, the boys talked, as they nearly always did, about the prospects that were so soon to be realized.

“Father thinks two more days ought tobring us to where the Ohio empties into the Mississippi,” remarked Sandy, rubbing vigorously the while.

“I only hope he is right, and that two nights from now we’ll be camped on the shore of that wonderful river,” Bob replied, stopping his work to critically examine it, so as to see whether anything more could be done to keep that particular trap from being eaten by rust.

“What was that dropped down just beside you, Bob?” suddenly asked the younger boy, staring hard as he spoke.

“I heard something fall, but I supposed it was a nut dropped by a squirrel,” replied Bob, at the same time placing the trap on the ground while he leaned over to examine. “I never saw the squirrels and raccoons so tame as they are along here. Really now, I believe they would almost take a piece of mother’s hoe-cake right out of my hand. Where was it you saw the nut fall, Sandy? Am I near it now? Tell me when I get warmer or colder, like we do in that game the girls liked to play back in Virginia.”

“There, it must have been about where your hand is now; and—why, what is that?” and Sandy stared with all his might at the objectBob was holding up in his hand. “An arrow! An Indian arrow! Oh! some prowling red wolf has been trying to shoot us down as we sit here. What a narrow escape you had!”

“Wait, Sandy!” exclaimed Bob, quickly, and with that vein of authority in his voice which he at times almost unconsciously assumed when endeavoring to check the hasty actions of his younger brother. “Look again, and perhaps you may remember seeing just such an arrow as this before.”

Sandy sank back in his seat, as though his sudden fright had passed away.

“Oh! it is the same Delaware arrow!” he cried. “Our good, but unknown friend has once more sent us a warning that danger hangs over our heads! Pull the message off, Bob, and let us see what it says! How splendid of this strange protector to follow us all the way from our old home, away up the Ohio, to this new land. What could we have done to deserve such kindness, such faithfulness?”

Bob had not been idle all the time Sandy was talking. As before, there was a strip of birch bark fastened to the stout reed that constituted the shaft of the feathered arrow, bearing the Delaware flint barb.

Again were crude but easily understood figures scratched upon the light brown side of the bark; this time they were very numerous, and told a story as plain as though it had been printed with types.

There was a campfire, and a tied-up flatboat, which must belong to them. About that fire a number of people seemed to be leisurely taking their ease. Stars dotted what was intended for the sky overhead; and one large one in particular was just above the horizon, indicated by a straight line. Many recumbent figures, with feathers, different in arrangement from any seen before, adorning their scalplocks, were evidently crawling up through the long grass, coming from both sides. They carried bows and arrows, and a few of them guns.

Sandy looked at the drawing, holding his very breath meanwhile.

“It means that we will be attacked by a tribe of Indians we’ve never met before, doesn’t it?” he demanded. “Because, I remember how the Shawanees, the Delawares, the Pottawottomies, the Senecas, the Miamis and the Hurons wear feathers in their hair when on the war-path, and these are different.”

“Yes, I think you are right, Sandy,” repliedthe other; “but an Indian must always be an Indian to us, if he is hostile. Do you notice how he has drawn this big star close down to the level of the horizon? That must be meant for the evening star up yonder; and the attack is planned for the time of its setting.”

“Which will come in another hour, Bob,” Sandy went on, feverishly. “Come, let us gather all our traps together, and get them aboard. I’ll look after that; and do you show our father what our kind friend has done for the Armstrongs for the third time.”

“Just what I was going to say to you, Sandy,” remarked Bob. “But remember, you must not look so excited, for many reasons. Why, right now, at this very minute, how do we know but that a number of savage Indians may be watching us, ready to send in a shower of arrows if they understand that we have guessed their game? Go about your work just as if we didn’t have the least suspicion of danger.”

“I will, Bob, you can depend on me; and what you say is good, hard sense, every word of it. I only wish I could keep myself held down, and cool, as you do. But it just seemsas though something inside of me is always ready to jump at the very first sign of excitement. But there’s father looking this way now. Perhaps he has discovered that you are holding an arrow in your hands, and wonders where you got it. Please go over and beg of him to get aboard with mother and Kate right away. And hold on to your gun—hold on to your gun!”

This last piece of advice was wholly unnecessary, for Bob was determined to be in a condition to help defend the boat, should a sudden emergency arise before the time set for the attack.

While Sandy hurried to get the bunch of traps aboard, and return to the shore again, Bob sauntered over to where his father stood, and as quietly as possible explained what had happened.

“You have a long head, for a boy, son,” was what Mr. Armstrong remarked, as his hand fell affectionately on Bob’s shoulder; and such few words of praise always made the boy’s heart thrill with pride, for his greatest ambition was to deserve the commendation of those who were nearest and dearest to him. “We will try to let the men know, without showingany undue alarm. The sentry, too, must be informed, so that he may come in, and be ready to spring for the boat at the signal.”

This was soon accomplished. Then, at the given word, everybody leaped for the side of the boat. Instantly a scene of great excitement followed. A gun sounded, and a number of arrows came hurtling through the air, to strike the side of the cabin; while blood-curdling yells arose from a point near by, showing where the enemy had been crawling up all the while the voyagers rested under the belief that they were safely guarded.

Fortunately no one was severely hurt by these feathered shafts, fired so hastily, and without proper aim, though Mr. Bancroft, who had been on guard, and had further to run than any of the rest, received one through the fleshy part of his left arm as he climbed up the side of the boat.

But by now the guns of the whites began to answer back, and the Indians, who were coming headlong through the brush, evidently meaning to follow them aboard, met with such a hot reception that they were glad to drop flat, and creep behind trees or rocks.

“Cut the cable free!” shouted Mr. Armstrong.“Keep the women under shelter, and let every gun be ready to repel boarders, if they come on again!”

He himself boldly seized one of the push poles, and threw his whole weight upon it, the instant the cable had been released that held the upper end of the boat to a tree.

Arrows hurtled around him in a cloud, and it seemed as though he must surely be struck down at any second; but Mr. Armstrong appeared to bear a charmed life, for he did not receive even a trivial wound.

The boat was already moving with the sluggish current close to the shore. It was fortunate that all these things had been prepared for at the time they tied up there. In the time of necessity a second might mean safety or disaster to those hardy souls who had entrusted their all to a slender chance.

Seeing that their expected quarry was leaving them in the lurch, the Indians increased their fire; and then some of the more rash among them rushed into full view, as though meaning to board the craft.

But they counted without their host. Those frontiersmen knew how to defend their craft desperately. They never pulled trigger withoutlessening the number of their assailants. Bob and Sandy were on the firing line, and had no sooner discharged their muskets than they set to work with feverish haste to get another load rammed home again.

Several of the Indians managed to dash through the water up to the waist, and started to make their way aboard; but clubbed guns smote those feathered heads with such unerring skill that not a single bronzed warrior ever set foot on deck.

Now the boat was leaving the shore, influenced by the sweep, which two of the voyagers managed to work fairly well. The danger seemed over, and lusty shouts broke from the lips of the defenders of the craft as they noted that the scene of the late battle was being left far behind, with the baffled Indians giving short, sharp yelps, like wolves that have been cheated out of their prey.

“Well done!” exclaimed Mr. Armstrong, breathing freely for the first time since he had heard Bob tell how the warning arrow had fallen close at his side. “And now, Neighbor Bancroft, let us look at that wound you’ve received. I can pull the arrow through easier than break or withdraw it. A painful but nota dangerous wound; you must let my wife bathe it, and put on some of her magic salve.”

“I only hope the heathen have not taken to poisoning their arrows,” remarked Mr. Bancroft; and Bob and Sandy exchanged glances.

It happened that, many months before, one of them had watched an Iroquois brave irritate a rattle-snake with a pole until he had the reptile in a furious mood, and then allow it to strike a piece of fresh meat many times, filling it with the green venom from his poison sack. After this meat had become impregnated with the virus, arrow points were dipped in it and allowed to dry until each had been thoroughly infected. But it was seldom the Indians used such terrible weapons; somehow they seemed to be bound by some code of honor that influenced them to refrain from adding to the seriousness of an arrow wound.

Pat came up, and by the light of a lantern, held by one of the boys, helped Mr. Armstrong draw the arrow through the wound, for it was nearly half-way out, and could not be broken without additional pain to the victim.

Then Bob’s mother, who was a splendid nurse, came to dress the wound, and applysome of her salve, upon which every one relied so completely.

Bob had been keeping an eye on Pat, who he saw was examining the arrow closely. As Pat was well acquainted with the peculiarities of the many separate Indian tribes, as connected with their arrows and head-dress of feathers, Bob felt positive that he could tell him what he wanted to know.

“That is no Shawanee arrow, Pat, I take it?” he remarked.

“That’s jist it, Bob, me bye,” the trapper declared, nodding as he looked up. “No Shawanee brave iver made his arrow afther the likes av that. Sac, I says till mesilf, as soon as I set me eyes on it, an’ Sac I says shtill. They do be the manest rids av the whole bunch, I’m thinkin’; though, belave me, I’d hisitate to say that same in the prisince av Mrs. Armstrong, bliss her swate heart for an angel, wid her healin’ salve an’ her coolin’ lotions, becase she has been thryin’ to belave that all the bad Injuns has been lift behint entirely; whin the thruth be, there’s jist as many out along the ould Mississippi as we knew afore.”

After passing down several miles in the semi-darkness they anchored the boat off abar, and kept close watch until dawn brought safety; when the voyage was resumed, with grateful hearts that another peril had been safely passed, thanks to that unknown red friend who had a debt to settle with the Armstrong boys.

Still another night passed, and again they slept on board, for the women were averse to taking any more chances. This brought them to the day when, according to all the figuring done by Mr. Armstrong, assisted by what knowledge Pat O’Mara had on the subject, they should be close to the place of the joining of the two great rivers.

All morning long they kept a vigil. Eager eyes looked ahead, in the hope of discovering the mighty stream which had lured them all the way from their old home far up the picturesque Ohio.

The afternoon was pretty well advanced when Sandy gave a whoop that was characteristic of the lad. No need to ask what made him leap about so boisterously, waving his coonskin cap around his head. Every eye turned in the direction of the expected vision; and, when they saw the great sweep of water that lay ahead, with its further shore but dimlymarked against the western horizon, a silence fell upon them.

It was indeed the Mississippi that spread before the eyes of that brave little company, up to then almost a sealed book to English colonists, though well known to the French trappers and traders, whose cordon of posts from north to south united Canada with the warm regions of the gulf.

They had finally come to the region where their new home was to be built—on the bank of the Mississippi.

CHAPTER XXIIIWHAT THE DEAD ASHES OF A FIRE TOLD“Pullhard, Sandy; father wants to land at that spot where the big crooked tree hangs over the water. Pat has told him that it was there he spent the night a year ago, when he was here spying out the land and learning what the Frenchmen were doing in the trapping line. And he also says it is the finest place for our new home he knows about.”While saying all this Bob was himself throwing his strength upon the sweep he and his younger brother were managing, while some of the men rested, or frolicked with their children inside the cabin of the flatboat.They were afloat on the Mississippi, and had been descending the mighty stream most of the day. To cross it with only a clumsy flatboat was next to impossible. It would have been exceedingly dangerous to have risked the diverse currents that lay in wait for the incautious voyager, far out from shore.Some of the men had even proposed thatthey try to make one of the islands that they had passed, and where it would seem they might be free from an attack on the part of the Indians; but to this Mr. Armstrong would not agree.“Look back, friends,” he had said when this bold scheme was proposed, “and try to imagine what would have become of us and our families, had we been on such an island when the flood came. It was bad enough on the main land, watching our cabins being undermined, and carried off; but how much worse had we been watching the waters slowly but surely covering the very land on which all we loved stood, with the raging torrent on every side, and no means of reaching the shore? For my part, after what I have passed through, nothing can tempt me to leave this firm foundation. True, the Indians and French trappers may get at us the easier; but we know where we are, and in the other case we would not.”And his words were of such a nature that even those who had been loudest in exploiting the benefits to be obtained by resorting to an island, changed their minds, and would have none of it.The boat was brought in without a greatamount of trouble, for they had been keeping only a short distance away from the bank while allowing themselves to be carried along at the will of the strong current.Pat was, as always, the first to spring ashore. While the rest were busy securing the boat, the trapper was circling around up the bank, looking for recent signs of enemies near the spot.He had claimed it was a well-known stopping-place for all those passing up or down-stream. Boats loaded with French trappers might possibly come along at some time or other; but already time was bringing about a change in the relations of the colonists and the sons of France; and if, as seemed very likely, a break did occur between King George and his American colonies, the French would be found taking the part of the latter.Indeed, Mr. Armstrong had taken this into consideration when arranging to carry his family into the heart of the country controlled and claimed by the French. He expected to have some little trouble with them at first; but, after a little time, they would hear great news from the sea-coast that would lift the scales from their eyes, these rough and daring trappers,so that they would hold out their hands to make peace with the newcomers, as common allies against England.“How does this suit you, Sandy?” asked Bob, when they, too, had clambered over the side of the boat, and stood on the bank.“It is a fine place for a camp, and for a cabin, too,” replied the other, looking about him with kindling eyes. “Plenty of big trees to cut down, or leave standing, just as we think best; and it looks as if there ought to be a heap of rich furs to be taken along that ridge back yonder, and the valley that must lie further on. Yes, I like this place. It is even better than what I could see, whenever I shut my eyes, and tried to picture our new homestead by the Mississippi.”They looked out upon the great river, where rested the bones of the discoverer, De Soto, and the copper plates he had sunk beneath its waters when he claimed the whole region for his royal master; and tears came into the eyes of Sandy, whose emotions were easily stirred.“Higher up there, and a little way back, we would build our cabins, I think,” Bob went on to remark, in his usual thoughtful way. “One bout with a flood will be more than enough forfather. Think of what it meant to us, the destruction of our garden; the uprooting of the supports of our cabin; and then the loss of mother’s little strong-box in which she kept her few precious remembrances of the past, as well as that wampum belt given to us by Pontiac, when we saved his life. Yes, it answers all the needs of our little company; and, once it is decided that we stay here, watch how soon the axes begin to ring, and the trees to fall. Inside of three days, we could have a roof over our heads again.”“I should be glad of that,” ventured Sandy, heaving a little sigh as his eye roved toward their mother, just climbing down from the side of the boat, assisted by the steady hand of her husband; “for mother has grown weary of this wandering. She wants to have her own fire to work over, and cook meals for her family, instead of the whole company.”“Suppose we look around a little,” suggested Bob.“Count me in with you on that,” agreed the other, quickly, for it was just what Sandy was about to propose himself, being fairly wild to do a little exploring on his own hook.Of course they carried their guns as theyleft the vicinity of the flatboat, for the pioneer of that day never knew at what moment he would have urgent need of his weapons.Pat was no longer in sight. He had started to circle rapidly around, and had already covered so much territory that it seemed as if there certainly could be nothing near by that might be dangerous.A rabbit jumped out from almost under their feet; squirrels frisked among the oaks that grew in abundance in the woods; plump partridges whirred when they happened to stir the brush, and inside of five minutes these evidences of the abundance of small game had Sandy laughing in great glee.“Oh! I guess none of those stories could have been untrue, brother,” he declared, as they glimpsed a deer that had evidently been lying down near by, and was only disturbed by their approach; “why, I came near getting a shot at that doe; but, when that branch closed in behind her flank, I thought it would be silly to fire, with only a chance of wounding the poor thing. Mother has taught us not to be cruel when we take our toll of meat, and I am glad now I did not fire.”“I believe you will have plenty of chancesto shoot all you want, if father decides to stay right around here,” remarked Bob. “As for myself, I fancy that fine ridge just back there. If our cabin topped that, we could see up and down the river, just as we used to do, before, up on the Ohio; but what a different thing the Mississippi is from its tributary!”“But,” broke in Sandy, just then, “didn’t you hear Pat tell about that other big river that comes down from the unknown country away off to the northwest, and empties its volume of water into the Mississippi not two hundred miles north of the mouth of the Ohio? He said it was the real Mississippi, and that the Indians so regarded it, because it comes from so far away, hundreds and hundreds of miles, so that no man knows the beginning, up in the country of the Crows; and the strange Indians with the white skin, called the Mandans; and the Sioux, who, the French say, are the most savage fighters of all the red race.”Bob looked at his brother doubtfully. He knew something was working on the mind of the boy, for he was used to reading the signs.“You listen too much to these idle tales Pat tells, Sandy,” he remarked. “First thing I know, you’ll be wanting to go off and explorethat other river, where no English settler has yet built his cabin, and only savage foes lurk.”Sandy made no reply, but a flush crept over his face; and Bob sighed; for he knew that his brother had even then been indulging in dreams of some day seeing that other great river, lying still deeper in the wilderness that lay toward the land of the setting sun.“Pat was telling us that trappers call this the most favored place for many miles along the river,” Bob remarked, as he glanced around him.“Yes,” added the other, quickly, “and he said he had camped here once himself, when he came to the country of the Mississippi to see what the Frenchmen were doing, and find out if it was really as fine a place as others had reported. Why, even now that looks like the ashes of a campfire over yonder.”“You are right, Sandy,” declared Bob; “some one has been in camp here, and not so long ago, too; for the ashes have never been rained on; and you remember that just three days ago we had a long siege of it.”Bob had touched the flaky ashes with the toe of his moccasin when saying this. Versed in the knowledge of woodcraft, this was only anatural thing for the boy to remark. It fell from his lips just as readily as a lad of the present day might read a printed message that had been left in the crotch of a stick, after the departure of late campers.“I wonder who they could have been, Indians, or French trappers heading for the nearest trading post with their winter’s catch of pelts?” mused Sandy, looking thoughtfully around him while speaking.“The chances are the last,” Bob replied. “If Indians had been here we would see some signs to tell us of that fact. Chances are they would leave a broken arrow behind, or some feathers that were cast aside; and I do not see any such, do you?”“No, not here,” replied Sandy, and then added: “It seems to me there is something lying there, in that clump of grass, that has been thrown aside. Wait until I get it, Bob; perhaps it may give us a clue concerning the men who made this fire.”Carelessly he stepped aside, and, bending, picked up the object that had caught his attention. As Sandy stood staring, Bob advanced to his side with quick strides. Then he, too, seemed to have been turned into stone, for hiseyes were glued upon what Sandy held in his shaking hand.The eyes of the two boys met in a startled look; and it could be plainly seen that they were deeply moved by the discovery Sandy had made, close to the dead ashes of the abandoned fire.

“Pullhard, Sandy; father wants to land at that spot where the big crooked tree hangs over the water. Pat has told him that it was there he spent the night a year ago, when he was here spying out the land and learning what the Frenchmen were doing in the trapping line. And he also says it is the finest place for our new home he knows about.”

While saying all this Bob was himself throwing his strength upon the sweep he and his younger brother were managing, while some of the men rested, or frolicked with their children inside the cabin of the flatboat.

They were afloat on the Mississippi, and had been descending the mighty stream most of the day. To cross it with only a clumsy flatboat was next to impossible. It would have been exceedingly dangerous to have risked the diverse currents that lay in wait for the incautious voyager, far out from shore.

Some of the men had even proposed thatthey try to make one of the islands that they had passed, and where it would seem they might be free from an attack on the part of the Indians; but to this Mr. Armstrong would not agree.

“Look back, friends,” he had said when this bold scheme was proposed, “and try to imagine what would have become of us and our families, had we been on such an island when the flood came. It was bad enough on the main land, watching our cabins being undermined, and carried off; but how much worse had we been watching the waters slowly but surely covering the very land on which all we loved stood, with the raging torrent on every side, and no means of reaching the shore? For my part, after what I have passed through, nothing can tempt me to leave this firm foundation. True, the Indians and French trappers may get at us the easier; but we know where we are, and in the other case we would not.”

And his words were of such a nature that even those who had been loudest in exploiting the benefits to be obtained by resorting to an island, changed their minds, and would have none of it.

The boat was brought in without a greatamount of trouble, for they had been keeping only a short distance away from the bank while allowing themselves to be carried along at the will of the strong current.

Pat was, as always, the first to spring ashore. While the rest were busy securing the boat, the trapper was circling around up the bank, looking for recent signs of enemies near the spot.

He had claimed it was a well-known stopping-place for all those passing up or down-stream. Boats loaded with French trappers might possibly come along at some time or other; but already time was bringing about a change in the relations of the colonists and the sons of France; and if, as seemed very likely, a break did occur between King George and his American colonies, the French would be found taking the part of the latter.

Indeed, Mr. Armstrong had taken this into consideration when arranging to carry his family into the heart of the country controlled and claimed by the French. He expected to have some little trouble with them at first; but, after a little time, they would hear great news from the sea-coast that would lift the scales from their eyes, these rough and daring trappers,so that they would hold out their hands to make peace with the newcomers, as common allies against England.

“How does this suit you, Sandy?” asked Bob, when they, too, had clambered over the side of the boat, and stood on the bank.

“It is a fine place for a camp, and for a cabin, too,” replied the other, looking about him with kindling eyes. “Plenty of big trees to cut down, or leave standing, just as we think best; and it looks as if there ought to be a heap of rich furs to be taken along that ridge back yonder, and the valley that must lie further on. Yes, I like this place. It is even better than what I could see, whenever I shut my eyes, and tried to picture our new homestead by the Mississippi.”

They looked out upon the great river, where rested the bones of the discoverer, De Soto, and the copper plates he had sunk beneath its waters when he claimed the whole region for his royal master; and tears came into the eyes of Sandy, whose emotions were easily stirred.

“Higher up there, and a little way back, we would build our cabins, I think,” Bob went on to remark, in his usual thoughtful way. “One bout with a flood will be more than enough forfather. Think of what it meant to us, the destruction of our garden; the uprooting of the supports of our cabin; and then the loss of mother’s little strong-box in which she kept her few precious remembrances of the past, as well as that wampum belt given to us by Pontiac, when we saved his life. Yes, it answers all the needs of our little company; and, once it is decided that we stay here, watch how soon the axes begin to ring, and the trees to fall. Inside of three days, we could have a roof over our heads again.”

“I should be glad of that,” ventured Sandy, heaving a little sigh as his eye roved toward their mother, just climbing down from the side of the boat, assisted by the steady hand of her husband; “for mother has grown weary of this wandering. She wants to have her own fire to work over, and cook meals for her family, instead of the whole company.”

“Suppose we look around a little,” suggested Bob.

“Count me in with you on that,” agreed the other, quickly, for it was just what Sandy was about to propose himself, being fairly wild to do a little exploring on his own hook.

Of course they carried their guns as theyleft the vicinity of the flatboat, for the pioneer of that day never knew at what moment he would have urgent need of his weapons.

Pat was no longer in sight. He had started to circle rapidly around, and had already covered so much territory that it seemed as if there certainly could be nothing near by that might be dangerous.

A rabbit jumped out from almost under their feet; squirrels frisked among the oaks that grew in abundance in the woods; plump partridges whirred when they happened to stir the brush, and inside of five minutes these evidences of the abundance of small game had Sandy laughing in great glee.

“Oh! I guess none of those stories could have been untrue, brother,” he declared, as they glimpsed a deer that had evidently been lying down near by, and was only disturbed by their approach; “why, I came near getting a shot at that doe; but, when that branch closed in behind her flank, I thought it would be silly to fire, with only a chance of wounding the poor thing. Mother has taught us not to be cruel when we take our toll of meat, and I am glad now I did not fire.”

“I believe you will have plenty of chancesto shoot all you want, if father decides to stay right around here,” remarked Bob. “As for myself, I fancy that fine ridge just back there. If our cabin topped that, we could see up and down the river, just as we used to do, before, up on the Ohio; but what a different thing the Mississippi is from its tributary!”

“But,” broke in Sandy, just then, “didn’t you hear Pat tell about that other big river that comes down from the unknown country away off to the northwest, and empties its volume of water into the Mississippi not two hundred miles north of the mouth of the Ohio? He said it was the real Mississippi, and that the Indians so regarded it, because it comes from so far away, hundreds and hundreds of miles, so that no man knows the beginning, up in the country of the Crows; and the strange Indians with the white skin, called the Mandans; and the Sioux, who, the French say, are the most savage fighters of all the red race.”

Bob looked at his brother doubtfully. He knew something was working on the mind of the boy, for he was used to reading the signs.

“You listen too much to these idle tales Pat tells, Sandy,” he remarked. “First thing I know, you’ll be wanting to go off and explorethat other river, where no English settler has yet built his cabin, and only savage foes lurk.”

Sandy made no reply, but a flush crept over his face; and Bob sighed; for he knew that his brother had even then been indulging in dreams of some day seeing that other great river, lying still deeper in the wilderness that lay toward the land of the setting sun.

“Pat was telling us that trappers call this the most favored place for many miles along the river,” Bob remarked, as he glanced around him.

“Yes,” added the other, quickly, “and he said he had camped here once himself, when he came to the country of the Mississippi to see what the Frenchmen were doing, and find out if it was really as fine a place as others had reported. Why, even now that looks like the ashes of a campfire over yonder.”

“You are right, Sandy,” declared Bob; “some one has been in camp here, and not so long ago, too; for the ashes have never been rained on; and you remember that just three days ago we had a long siege of it.”

Bob had touched the flaky ashes with the toe of his moccasin when saying this. Versed in the knowledge of woodcraft, this was only anatural thing for the boy to remark. It fell from his lips just as readily as a lad of the present day might read a printed message that had been left in the crotch of a stick, after the departure of late campers.

“I wonder who they could have been, Indians, or French trappers heading for the nearest trading post with their winter’s catch of pelts?” mused Sandy, looking thoughtfully around him while speaking.

“The chances are the last,” Bob replied. “If Indians had been here we would see some signs to tell us of that fact. Chances are they would leave a broken arrow behind, or some feathers that were cast aside; and I do not see any such, do you?”

“No, not here,” replied Sandy, and then added: “It seems to me there is something lying there, in that clump of grass, that has been thrown aside. Wait until I get it, Bob; perhaps it may give us a clue concerning the men who made this fire.”

Carelessly he stepped aside, and, bending, picked up the object that had caught his attention. As Sandy stood staring, Bob advanced to his side with quick strides. Then he, too, seemed to have been turned into stone, for hiseyes were glued upon what Sandy held in his shaking hand.

The eyes of the two boys met in a startled look; and it could be plainly seen that they were deeply moved by the discovery Sandy had made, close to the dead ashes of the abandoned fire.

CHAPTER XXIVA NEW HOME ON THE MISSISSIPPI“Thelittle box in which mother kept her few treasures!” exclaimed Bob.“And our wampum belt, which Pontiac presented to us with his own hands!” echoed Sandy, as he once more let his gaze rest on the object he had discovered, thrown aside in the grass near the ashes of the deserted fire.“Those rascally French traders have been right here on this spot, brother,” remarked Bob, glancing around, and unconsciously half-raising his gun, as though he partly expected to see the vicious faces of Jacques Larue and Henri Lacroix peering at them out of the undergrowth.“And only a day or two ago, just think of that!” exclaimed Sandy, a sudden glow coming into his face. “Oh! what if, after all, we should have the great good luck to meet the robbers some fine day; wouldn’t we demand that they return our property, though? And if so much as one single thing belonging to ourdear mother were missing, they would have to account for it!”But Bob shook his head. He did not possess the same sanguine spirit as his younger brother, and consequently could not see things in the same light.“It is true they have been here, and lately, too,” he remarked, seriously; “but you must not allow yourself to hope too much that there is any chance for our meeting them. We are far below the mouth of the Ohio River now; and the fact of their having been here seems to say that even now these Frenchmen may be on their way down to the town their countrymen have started on the lower waters of the Mississippi, and which they call New Orleans.”“But we could follow them!” exclaimed Sandy.“As well look for a needle in a haystack,” observed the far-seeing Bob.“Just to think, if only we could have come upon them while they were seated here, eating their supper, and never dreaming that those they had robbed were at their elbows! Wouldn’t we have given the wretches a scare, though, Bob?” and Sandy gritted his white teeth savagely, as he stared at the dumb ashes,just as if they might be to blame for the misfortune that had befallen the brothers in arriving too late.“Of course there is one little hope that we will yet run across them,” Bob said, as though he, himself, wanted to cling to such a shred. “Perhaps they may be lingering around this part of the country, meaning to rest and hunt, after the long trip they have just made from away up the Ohio. And if they do, Sandy—”“Yes, if they do!” echoed the impulsive lad, shaking his gun impressively, so that further words were unnecessary.“Let us go and show father what we’ve found,” remarked Bob. “Poor mother will feel so sad when she sees this little box, for it held a number of pretty trinkets which she valued more because they were connected with the past, when her children were small, than on account of their worth in a money sense. To think of those big thieves carrying them around in their pockets or medicine bags; it will make father furious.”“But how does it come, do you think,” Sandy went on, “that, after carrying the box all this distance, they threw it away here?”“That is hard to say, Sandy; and I can onlyguess at it. Perhaps, now, they liked the looks of this pretty little casket, which a cabinetmaker once fashioned for our mother when she lived in Jamestown, back in Virginia. But, in the end, it began to get in the way; and, tired of carrying it, the men took out the contents while sitting here by this fire, and threw the box into the bushes.”“Never dreaming that the Armstrong boys would come along a day or two later, and find their property again,” mused Sandy. “Finding this box seems to tell me that next we will be fortunate enough to run across our wampum belt.”“I hope so,” was all Bob said, as he turned around, to return to where the rest of the party were busily employed.Great indeed was the surprise of Mr. Armstrong when he saw what the boys had discovered on the very spot where they meant to build their new home. As for the little mother, she took the quaint casket in her hands again with a look that told of renewed hope in her heart. It was all so very remarkable that the final recovery of the lost articles now seemed to lie within the bounds of possibility.The balance of that day was given up tosettling themselves as comfortably as they could. Already, the pioneers liked the situation so much that they were unanimously agreed upon staying there permanently. Nowhere could they hope to find a location uniting more natural advantages than here. Long years ago the wandering Indians and white trappers had discovered this fact, as witness their stopping to pitch their camps in the vicinity. It was noted as a country teeming with game, and offering the adventurous settler the finest soil possible.Then there was the great river close at hand, from which considerable of their needed stock of food might be procured—fish the live long year, and ducks and geese during the colder months.Everybody seemed fully satisfied that they could not possibly fare better by continuing on down the river; while there were many chances that they would never run across so splendid a site for a settlement.That night passed peacefully, and, with the advent of another day, operations immediately commenced. They were so wearied of the close confinement aboard the cumbersome flatboat, which had really been overcrowded, that all ofthem longed to possess their own homes. Humble though these log cabins might be, at least they would prize them highly, with their few possessions giving the interiors the air of home, so dear to the hearts of women the world over.The merry sound of axe blades biting eagerly into the trees could soon be heard. Every head of a family selected the site where he wished to build his cabin. These were so arranged that, while the structures themselves were close together, each had a gradually increasing strip of land running back, which could be quickly cleared, so that a small crop of corn and some vegetables might yet be planted, for the season was not late.As they worked, the men always kept their guns within easy reach. They had been brought up to know how trouble often springs out of a clear sky, and did not mean to be taken unawares.Until the separate homes were completely done, the women and children lived aboard the boat, secure within that stout log cabin which had sheltered them all so long during the cruise down the Ohio.Several days passed, and the four cabinswere fast nearing completion. Indeed, another twenty-four hours would see the finishing touches given to a couple of the rough log buildings; and that of the Armstrongs was one of the most advanced, since the two boys assisted their father considerably in the work.The chimney was partly built, out of slabs and mud that would harden with the heat and smoke until it became like granite. That generous fireplace they anticipated would ere long take on the “homey” look that had always marked the gathering place of the little family after the candle or the crude lamp was lighted for the evening; though, as a rule, they depended altogether upon the glow of the blaze itself for illumination, since the candles, made mostly from bear fat, were too precious to waste.Kate had been greatly pleased with the situation of the new home in the western wilderness. Often she had heard her father talking about what Washington advocated in connection with giving every survivor of the French and Indian wars a large tract of fine land in the bountiful west, and thus start a movement that sooner or later would oust the French from that debatable territory. And, when she sawthe charming nature of the land, Kate felt in full sympathy with all her father had said upon that subject.She spent half her time wandering around, picking the most wonderful wild flowers she had ever seen, listening to the birds singing in the trees, or paddling in the little dugout upon the sluggish current of the river; for, owing to a point of land that extended out some distance above, the eddies had formed what was almost a great pond in front of, and below, their camp.Of course she had been warned many times to be exceedingly careful, and not go far away; but, as Pat O’Mara kept circulating around the vicinity, and reported seeing absolutely no signs of Indians, Kate soon lost all fear.On the fourth day, which was near the end of the week, the girl had allowed the boat to drift a little way down the river, as she watched the shore for a good spot where she might land and find new treasures in the form of curious flowers. She knew that the boys had gone off on a hunt that morning, as there was need of fresh meat in the camp; and, besides, the cabin was by this time so far advanced that Mr. Armstrong declared himself able to completeit, and move in their few possessions; so that, when they came back, Bob and Sandy might expect to be invited to take their first meal in their own home.The afternoon was half spent, and the sun well on his journey toward the horizon that Sandy so often viewed with yearning, because it held so much of mystery that appealed to his adventurous nature.Kate had drawn the dugout up on the sandy beach, and, landing, strolled into the edge of the great woods. She had promised her mother never to go out of hearing of the busy axes; and even now she could catch their steady fall, as the men hewed the logs they had secured from the fallen trees and adapted them for the walls of their cabin homes.In a short time the girl had her arms filled with the most beautiful flowers she could remember ever having come across. Each new treasure excited her afresh, and she almost forgot her promise not to wander too deeply into the forest, where there was always a chance that some savage wildcat might be lurking.Kate had just turned around, meaning to head back toward her boat again, which couldjust be seen through the forest aisles, when she thought she heard a stick snap. Turning around with a half-laugh, under the impression that it might be her two brothers stealing up with the intention of surprising her, the poor girl was amazed and horrified to see a rough man, whom she immediately knew must be a French trapper, standing within five feet of her. Before she could think of screaming a second man arose from the bushes, and clapped a hand over her mouth.

“Thelittle box in which mother kept her few treasures!” exclaimed Bob.

“And our wampum belt, which Pontiac presented to us with his own hands!” echoed Sandy, as he once more let his gaze rest on the object he had discovered, thrown aside in the grass near the ashes of the deserted fire.

“Those rascally French traders have been right here on this spot, brother,” remarked Bob, glancing around, and unconsciously half-raising his gun, as though he partly expected to see the vicious faces of Jacques Larue and Henri Lacroix peering at them out of the undergrowth.

“And only a day or two ago, just think of that!” exclaimed Sandy, a sudden glow coming into his face. “Oh! what if, after all, we should have the great good luck to meet the robbers some fine day; wouldn’t we demand that they return our property, though? And if so much as one single thing belonging to ourdear mother were missing, they would have to account for it!”

But Bob shook his head. He did not possess the same sanguine spirit as his younger brother, and consequently could not see things in the same light.

“It is true they have been here, and lately, too,” he remarked, seriously; “but you must not allow yourself to hope too much that there is any chance for our meeting them. We are far below the mouth of the Ohio River now; and the fact of their having been here seems to say that even now these Frenchmen may be on their way down to the town their countrymen have started on the lower waters of the Mississippi, and which they call New Orleans.”

“But we could follow them!” exclaimed Sandy.

“As well look for a needle in a haystack,” observed the far-seeing Bob.

“Just to think, if only we could have come upon them while they were seated here, eating their supper, and never dreaming that those they had robbed were at their elbows! Wouldn’t we have given the wretches a scare, though, Bob?” and Sandy gritted his white teeth savagely, as he stared at the dumb ashes,just as if they might be to blame for the misfortune that had befallen the brothers in arriving too late.

“Of course there is one little hope that we will yet run across them,” Bob said, as though he, himself, wanted to cling to such a shred. “Perhaps they may be lingering around this part of the country, meaning to rest and hunt, after the long trip they have just made from away up the Ohio. And if they do, Sandy—”

“Yes, if they do!” echoed the impulsive lad, shaking his gun impressively, so that further words were unnecessary.

“Let us go and show father what we’ve found,” remarked Bob. “Poor mother will feel so sad when she sees this little box, for it held a number of pretty trinkets which she valued more because they were connected with the past, when her children were small, than on account of their worth in a money sense. To think of those big thieves carrying them around in their pockets or medicine bags; it will make father furious.”

“But how does it come, do you think,” Sandy went on, “that, after carrying the box all this distance, they threw it away here?”

“That is hard to say, Sandy; and I can onlyguess at it. Perhaps, now, they liked the looks of this pretty little casket, which a cabinetmaker once fashioned for our mother when she lived in Jamestown, back in Virginia. But, in the end, it began to get in the way; and, tired of carrying it, the men took out the contents while sitting here by this fire, and threw the box into the bushes.”

“Never dreaming that the Armstrong boys would come along a day or two later, and find their property again,” mused Sandy. “Finding this box seems to tell me that next we will be fortunate enough to run across our wampum belt.”

“I hope so,” was all Bob said, as he turned around, to return to where the rest of the party were busily employed.

Great indeed was the surprise of Mr. Armstrong when he saw what the boys had discovered on the very spot where they meant to build their new home. As for the little mother, she took the quaint casket in her hands again with a look that told of renewed hope in her heart. It was all so very remarkable that the final recovery of the lost articles now seemed to lie within the bounds of possibility.

The balance of that day was given up tosettling themselves as comfortably as they could. Already, the pioneers liked the situation so much that they were unanimously agreed upon staying there permanently. Nowhere could they hope to find a location uniting more natural advantages than here. Long years ago the wandering Indians and white trappers had discovered this fact, as witness their stopping to pitch their camps in the vicinity. It was noted as a country teeming with game, and offering the adventurous settler the finest soil possible.

Then there was the great river close at hand, from which considerable of their needed stock of food might be procured—fish the live long year, and ducks and geese during the colder months.

Everybody seemed fully satisfied that they could not possibly fare better by continuing on down the river; while there were many chances that they would never run across so splendid a site for a settlement.

That night passed peacefully, and, with the advent of another day, operations immediately commenced. They were so wearied of the close confinement aboard the cumbersome flatboat, which had really been overcrowded, that all ofthem longed to possess their own homes. Humble though these log cabins might be, at least they would prize them highly, with their few possessions giving the interiors the air of home, so dear to the hearts of women the world over.

The merry sound of axe blades biting eagerly into the trees could soon be heard. Every head of a family selected the site where he wished to build his cabin. These were so arranged that, while the structures themselves were close together, each had a gradually increasing strip of land running back, which could be quickly cleared, so that a small crop of corn and some vegetables might yet be planted, for the season was not late.

As they worked, the men always kept their guns within easy reach. They had been brought up to know how trouble often springs out of a clear sky, and did not mean to be taken unawares.

Until the separate homes were completely done, the women and children lived aboard the boat, secure within that stout log cabin which had sheltered them all so long during the cruise down the Ohio.

Several days passed, and the four cabinswere fast nearing completion. Indeed, another twenty-four hours would see the finishing touches given to a couple of the rough log buildings; and that of the Armstrongs was one of the most advanced, since the two boys assisted their father considerably in the work.

The chimney was partly built, out of slabs and mud that would harden with the heat and smoke until it became like granite. That generous fireplace they anticipated would ere long take on the “homey” look that had always marked the gathering place of the little family after the candle or the crude lamp was lighted for the evening; though, as a rule, they depended altogether upon the glow of the blaze itself for illumination, since the candles, made mostly from bear fat, were too precious to waste.

Kate had been greatly pleased with the situation of the new home in the western wilderness. Often she had heard her father talking about what Washington advocated in connection with giving every survivor of the French and Indian wars a large tract of fine land in the bountiful west, and thus start a movement that sooner or later would oust the French from that debatable territory. And, when she sawthe charming nature of the land, Kate felt in full sympathy with all her father had said upon that subject.

She spent half her time wandering around, picking the most wonderful wild flowers she had ever seen, listening to the birds singing in the trees, or paddling in the little dugout upon the sluggish current of the river; for, owing to a point of land that extended out some distance above, the eddies had formed what was almost a great pond in front of, and below, their camp.

Of course she had been warned many times to be exceedingly careful, and not go far away; but, as Pat O’Mara kept circulating around the vicinity, and reported seeing absolutely no signs of Indians, Kate soon lost all fear.

On the fourth day, which was near the end of the week, the girl had allowed the boat to drift a little way down the river, as she watched the shore for a good spot where she might land and find new treasures in the form of curious flowers. She knew that the boys had gone off on a hunt that morning, as there was need of fresh meat in the camp; and, besides, the cabin was by this time so far advanced that Mr. Armstrong declared himself able to completeit, and move in their few possessions; so that, when they came back, Bob and Sandy might expect to be invited to take their first meal in their own home.

The afternoon was half spent, and the sun well on his journey toward the horizon that Sandy so often viewed with yearning, because it held so much of mystery that appealed to his adventurous nature.

Kate had drawn the dugout up on the sandy beach, and, landing, strolled into the edge of the great woods. She had promised her mother never to go out of hearing of the busy axes; and even now she could catch their steady fall, as the men hewed the logs they had secured from the fallen trees and adapted them for the walls of their cabin homes.

In a short time the girl had her arms filled with the most beautiful flowers she could remember ever having come across. Each new treasure excited her afresh, and she almost forgot her promise not to wander too deeply into the forest, where there was always a chance that some savage wildcat might be lurking.

Kate had just turned around, meaning to head back toward her boat again, which couldjust be seen through the forest aisles, when she thought she heard a stick snap. Turning around with a half-laugh, under the impression that it might be her two brothers stealing up with the intention of surprising her, the poor girl was amazed and horrified to see a rough man, whom she immediately knew must be a French trapper, standing within five feet of her. Before she could think of screaming a second man arose from the bushes, and clapped a hand over her mouth.

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