Front matter

MAD ANTHONY'S SCOUTS;

OR,

THE RANGERS OF KENTUCKY.

BY EMERSON RODMAN.

NEW YORK:

BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS,

98 WILLIAM STREET.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, by

FRANK STARR & CO.,

In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.

MAD ANTHONY'S SCOUTS;

OR,

THE RANGERS OF KENTUCKY.

CHAPTER I.

COMRADES OF THE FOREST.

"Haow dew yeou dew, cap.?"

"Fine, yer honor; and how is yerself?"

A tall, spare specimen of the backwoodsman, who was sitting by a smouldering camp-fire, had arisen and grasped the hand of a genial-faced Irishman, who was also clad in the habiliments of the forest.

"My name is Smith, Hezekiah Smith," said the former, "What is yours?"

"Pat Mulroony, lately from Tipperary, Ireland, may it plase yer honor."

"Haow did you—how was it you came to find me, if I may be allowed to inquire?" asked Smith, peering round in his face.

"I was jist thraveling through the forest, when I spied the shmoke of fire, and says I to meself, says I, 'There's ayther some graan youngster, or a band of haythen, as doesn't care who saas their camp-fire,' and with that, I pokes around in the wood till I spies you cookin' your legs over the blaze, when I knows by the swate expression of yer countenance, that ye was a gintleman, and, bedad, I finds I was right."

"What might you be doing? What's your business?" pursued Smith, laboring under a great curiosity.

"Faith, I'm an adventoorer, as the convict said. I've been wanderin' in these parts for siveral wakes, without catchin' glimpse of a white skin, till I came upon you."

"That ain't what I mean. What brought you out here in the first place?"

"Me legs," replied the Irishman, decidedly.

"Just so, just so; if you've no objection, I'd like to know your motive, not meaning any offence at all."

"Begorrah, but ye're axin' too much," replied Pat, with a shake of his head. "Niver ye mind the indoocement that I has for taking to the woods. If I may be so bold, what was the same motive that brought yerself here?"

"Nothing in particular—nothing in particular," replied Smith, as if the subject was distasteful to him.

It was plain that both of these characters had a secret history—a history which each was determined should remain a secret with himself. The short conversation recorded above had been sufficient for this fact to become evident to both, and as if by mutual consent, neither made any further reference to it. It sufficed that they were white, civilized beings, wanderers in a dangerous territory, where neither, for an hour, could be assured of his own safety, and where both lacked the great safeguard of experience. This was enough to make them firm and fast friends at once.

"Are you baound up or down the river," queried Hezekiah Smith, refering to the Ohio, which was but a few hundred yards distant.

"Faith, it's little difference where I'm bound, as the man said when then the haythen Injuns bound him to the stake. How is it wid yerself?"

"I'm goin' daown."

"So is meself, if ye's willin' to accept of me company."

"I'm right glad to have you, for I care mighty little abaout goin' much further in this all-fired country, without some one to keep me company. It's the ornerest piece of country I ever seed in all my born days."

"As we agraas so well on the principles, be the same token, we'll agraa on the partic'lars. I'm thinkin' I've seen more of this country pra'ps, than ye has yerself, but it's a mighty little I've seen, after all. But, be the howly powers, it's meself knows enough not to kindle a fire in broad daylight, in these parts."

"But, Pat, s'pose you fall in the creek, and get wet, as I did—how in the name of human nature are you to dry yourself?"

"Dry yourself, is it?" repeated the Irishman, surveying his friend from head to foot; "and what is it ye wishes to dry yerself fur? Bedad, you'll find, if you're long in these parts, you'll have to go wet and hungry more than once."

"About what time do you suppose it might be?" asked Hezekiah Smith, after a moment's pause.

Pat Mulroony squinted one eye up to the sky, as if he was looking at the face of a clock, and answered:

"It lacks an hour or so yet of noon. Are ye cravin' something to ate?"

"O ginger, no! S'pose we set out upon our journey, as I don't exactly see how we're goin' to gain anything by standing here."

"Who laids the way?"

"I'll follow you, as you know more of the woods than I do."

Pat Mulroony struck out toward the Ohio River, closely followed by Hezekiah Smith. Each took long, regular strides, frequently snapping the twigs beneath their feet in spite of the care and caution exercised by each. They were two noticeable personages as they thus pressed forward, each with a long, beautiful rifle slung over his shoulder, and each attired in a demi-savage dress. The New Englander being some five or six inches the taller, was constantly peering over the shoulders of his leader, his curiosity being almost sufficient several times to make him take the lead himself.

They had walked some distance, when Hezekiah caught the shimmer of water through the trees, and knew they were approaching the Ohio. Moving several yards further, they were almost upon the bank, when Pat Mulroony fell flat upon his face as suddenly as if his feet had been tripped from beneath, and Smith, perfectly dum-founded at this curious movement, gazed bewildered at him for a second. Then thinking he had fallen and injured himself, he stooped to assist him to his feet. Motioning him off, Pat spoke rapidly in a ghostly whisper:

"Drop down on yer face! hide quick! down wid ye! quick! quick! the devil himself is coming down the river."

This overwhelming intelligence caused Hezekiah also to "come down," as suddenly as the Irishman, and for a moment nothing but the deep breathing of each could have been heard. But at the end of that time, the curiosity of Smith began to show itself.

"What does he look like, Pat?"

"Did you ever set eyes on a tappin-snarkle?"

"Yes; one of them once bit half of my big toe off, when I was wadin' in a mill-pond."

"Well, bedad, when I cotched the glimpse of him, he looked like a tappin-snarkle, as big as a house."

The curiosity of Hezekiah Smith was roused to its highest pitch. Such a dreadful monster as had been seen by the Irishman, if coming down the river, must soon pass before his view also; and he accordingly lifted his head slowly, until he had raised it and his shoulders perhaps a couple of feet, when he suddenly dropped it again, as if a thousand pound weight had fallen upon his head.

"Did ye see it?" inquired Pat, not daring to lift his own head.

"No; but I was afraid it might see me," replied Hezekiah, slowly raising his head again.

Taking courage from his immunity, Pat Mulroony gradually straightened his arm until he had brought his head nearly on a level with his companion's, when they both looked long and searchingly through the trees, but without discovering the Satanic personage that had been announced.

While gazing thus, a sudden rushing sound was heard, and the heads of our two friends dropped so suddenly that Hezekiah bit his tongue sorely, and the chin of the Irishman dented far into the earth.

"Jerusalem! he hadn't wings, had he?" asked Hezekiah, turning his face around so as to speak to the Irishman.

"He was paddlin' when I saw him, and was too big to flit among the trees here—howly mother! there he comes agin!"

As he spoke, several quails sped overhead with that whirring noise peculiar to the bird. This explained the cause of their fright.

Familiarity with danger breeds contempt, and our two friends, gathering courage every moment, again raised their heads, and looked steadily and unflinchingly out among the trees upon the river. And while thus engaged, they saw what at first appeared to be a small house floating down the river. As it drifted slowly past, the two rose to their feet, and ventured nearer the shore.

"O thunder!" exclaimed Hezekiah Smith, with a sigh of relief, "that's what they call a flat-boat."

"How do you know?" asked Pat; "ye says ye have never been in these parts, and how do you know what one is?"

"When I was at Pittsburgh, I seen two set out down the river, and they looked just like that."

"Be jabers! if it's a flat-boat there must be some one aboard of it," added Pat, his countenance lighting up; "and if there's some one aboard of it, be the same token, there's a chance of our getting down the river."

Hopeful and joyous, both scrambled headlong down the bank with the brilliant idea in their heads. The flat-boat was in the centre of the current, and, had the appearance of a square box; or, perhaps, a better idea of it could be given by comparing it to a cabin resting upon a scow, whose gunwales run higher than usual on every side. A long, sweeping oar was hung at either end, for the purpose of keeping the vessel in the channel, and guiding it through eddies and dangerous passages in the river. Not a living soul upon it was visible.

"Drat the luck!" exclaimed Hezekiah Smith, after stumbling along the shore for several minutes.

"Be the powers, but we'll boord the craft, and take possession!"

Hezekiah caught at the idea, and had already stepped into the water to carry it into execution, when Pat, with an exclamation of astonishment and alarm, caught him by the shoulder and drew him back.

CHAPTER II.

BOARDING THE FLAT-BOAT.

The cause of Pat's alarm was immediately manifest to Hezekiah. The head and shoulders of a man were visible on the flat-boat, as was also the muzzle of a rifle he held in his hand. Thinking he was about to speak or fire, our two friends drew back and waited for his words. To their surprise, however, his head almost immediately disappeared, and their most urgent calls and entreaties could not induce him to show himself again.

By this time, the flat-boat had drifted some distance below them, and they ran down the bank so as to recover their lost ground.

"We've got to boord it," said Pat, as they took their station.

"How is it to be done?"

"Why, you jist wade out and climb up the side."

"And what are you going to do?"

"I'll stay on the bank to cover your retrate if you gits licked."

"Cover my retreat," repeated Hezekiah, as if he found it difficult to understand the exact meaning of his friend.

"Suppose that man fires at me and kills me?"

"Be that token, Pat Mulroony will consider that it's dangerous for him to follow yees, and will retrate, like a wise gineral, into the woods."

Hezekiah still debated whether it was his duty to run such a risk for the benefit of his companion or not, but finally compromised the matter by offering to carry him upon his back.

"The water ain't very deep," said he, "and as my legs are a yard or two the longest, I'll keep you dry, and you'll run the same chance of being struck that I will."

"It's a bargain," said Pat, immediately mounting the back of Hezekiah.

For the convenience of the latter, the Irishman took the guns of both, and with his heavy load upon his back, Hezekiah Smith stepped cautiously into the river. He had entered it some distance below the flat-boat, so that he would have no trouble in intercepting it, and he now strided as rapidly as possible through the water.

He had gone, perhaps, two-thirds of the distance, and the water reached almost to his waist, when the head of the man on the flat-boat again appeared, and pointing his rifle over it, he called out:

"You infernal decoys, what do you mean by coming out here? I'll give you just two seconds to reach the shore again, and if you come a foot nearer, I'll blow daylight through you."

Instead of turning round and retreating, Hezekiah ducked his head at this sudden command, so as to bring the Irishman as a sort of shield before him. Throwing him too far forward, the consequence was, that Pat went completely over his head into the water. At sight of this discomfiture of both, the man in the flat-boat evidently concluded their presence could be of little danger to him, and accordingly called out.

"Come out to the boat, and I'll help you on board."

"Murther! Can't ye pick us up?" cried Pat, floundering through the water. It being very manifest that such a feat, under the circumstances, was impossible, our two friends made the best of their way forward, and upon reaching the side of the boat were assisted on board by the man who, a few minutes before, had ordered them away so peremptorily.

"Who are you?" he demanded, as soon as they had recovered breath.

"Patrick Mulroony, from Tipperary, Ireland, at your service, sir."

"Hezekiah Smith, also."

"Isn't there any one else ashore?"

"Not that we knows of. Are you the only one on these premises?"

"No, sir, you will see my companions shortly."

The speaker was a young man of rather prepossessing address, one who, to judge from appearances, was as much a stranger in these wilds, as our two friends, who have been already introduced to the reader.

He was attired in a plain, homespun dress, such as, at the period of which we write, were more often seen in civilized communities, than as far west as this portion of the Ohio. He had a keen, black eye, dark, flowing hair, a pleasant face, considerably embrowned, and bearing the unmistakeable impress of a firm will, and iron determination. He scanned his visitors as they came aboard, and seemed to gather from a glance their character.

"If you've no objection, what might be your name?" asked Hezekiah, in his gentle, insinuating voice.

"Luther Waring."

"Eh, yes, just so; glad to hear. Ain't married, now, I dare say?"

"No, sir."

"Might be engaged, perhaps?"

"Yes; to tell the truth, I am," replied Waring, "and, if I ever get safely through this infernal Indian country, down to the settlements, I'll be married."

"Where might the—where might the lady be now?" pursued Hezekiah, evidently determined to get all he could out of Waring.

"She and her father are in the cabin, and, I suppose, will soon show themselves."

"What might be her name, now—that is, if you have no objection to telling me."

"Certainly not," laughed Waring. "She is from the same village that I have left; and her name is Virginia: daughter of Mr. George Lander. Anything else that I can impart?"

"You are bound to the settlement, down the river, I suppose?"

"I have hinted as much; yes, that is our destination."

Hezekiah paused at this point, as he seemed to have run out of questions, seeing which, Pat Mulroony whispered—

"Begorrah, ye isn't going to sthop in this place, be yees?"

The querulous New Englander placed the stock of his rifle a few inches from his feet, and holding his arms over the muzzle, seemed to be engaged in a deep study for a few moments. Suddenly, slinging his right leg around the other, so that it rested upon the tip of the foot, he turned his beaming face toward Waring, and continued—

"Is the gal good-looking, now?"

Waring laughed outright.

"You shall be the judge, if you only wait a few minutes."

"Of course—of course—I only asked to—that is, I just asked——"

"To find out," put in Pat, with a comical expression, as he looked down and surveyed his clinging garments.

"Do you wish to change your clothes?" asked Waring, who had noticed the furtive glance of the Irishman.

"There bein' ladies in the neighborhood, p'rhaps they might 'bjact, as, be the token that we have no clouthes to put on, our costume would be rather picturesque, as the man said when he came out from the river, and found a cow had ate up his garments."

"We can furnish you with something I think."

"It's entirely unnecessary, entirely unnecessary," said Hezekiah, with a graceful wave of his hand. "The water is not cold at all, and the bathing was quite pleasant. But, I was going to ask whether the Indians had troubled you yet?"

"If you had examined the side of the boat as you came up, you would have seen several bullets imbedded in it. They were fired by Indians."

"Deu tell!" gasped Hezekiah.

"We paid no heed to them at first, in the hopes that they would leave us, when they found we were aware of their motives; but, as they kept following us, Mr. Lander and myself sent several shots among them, that made them howl, and send volley after volley after us in return."

"They didn't kill yer?"

"They did no damage, as our boats were constructed with a knowledge of all the exigencies that might arise. How is it with yourselves?"

"I haven't seen an Indian in a long time," replied Hezekiah; "but I have smelt their camp-fires several times."

"I've saan plenty of the haythen," added Pat, "but have given them a wide barth, and so I'm plased to state, I've suffered no harm up to this point in the prosadings."

"I have never been in this part of the country before," said Waring, speaking in a more serious tone than he had used thus far; "but I am aware of the perils and dangers that encompass us. Our immunity from danger thus far, leads me to hope for the best, as, from the knowledge that I gained before starting, the settlement, which is our destination, cannot be more than twenty miles distant, near enough for us to reach it to-morrow, if nothing unexpected occurs. I must say, however, I am filled with considerable misgivings. We are in the most dangerous point of the river; and I cannot help thinking that the crisis will come to-night. I am indeed glad that you two have come on board."

"Thunder! so am I," said Hezekiah, "for I was lost in the woods, and was beginning to get scart. We are bound with you for the settlement. Hello!"

At this juncture the cabin-door opened, and a man, some sixty years of age, made his appearance. He was very grey, with a feeble, attenuated frame, and the air of one who, for years, had not seen a day of perfect health.

Waring immediately introduced him to the Irishman and New Englander, the former grasping him heartily by the hands, and the latter scraping his feet very elaborately, as he returned his pressure.

The face of the elderly personage was careworn, and he spoke but a few words, merely expressing his pleasure at meeting his two friends, when he returned to the cabin.

Hezekiah Smith was just on the point of asking a question concerning him, when the cabin-door again opened, and Virginia Lander made her appearance. She had the same black eyes and hair as her lover—a bright, hopeful expression of countenance, singularly in contrast with that of her parent, and a nervous restlessness of manner, such as is often seen in the mere child. She was not beautiful, but she was handsome, and inspired every one in her favor. Waring immediately introduced her, as he had her father. Hezekiah retreated a step or two, lifted his hat from his head, and was just in the act of making another sweeping scrape with his foot, when she brought these preparations to an end by taking his hand, speaking her pleasure, and turning to the Irishman, and doing the same.

"Extremely happy to meet you," said Hezekiah. "If you've no objection, I would like to know——"

"Be the powers! but look yonder jist!" interrupted Pat, pointing down the river. "What does that mane?"

Waring had already caught sight of the suspicious object, and turned to Hezekiah.

"What do you make of it?"

"A lot of Indians, as sure as thunder."

CHAPTER III.

THE SHADOW OF DANGER.

"It's a canoe—one of them infernal Indian ones," added Hezekiah. "I know enough of 'em to be sure of it."

The object in question was close under the Ohio shore, and at the distance when first seen, might have been mistaken for a common log; but Waring, who had learned to regard every such manifestation with suspicion in the Indian country, was convinced that it was something more the instant he caught a glimpse of it. Besides, Hezekiah was positive, and if any individual was competent to judge in regard to the identity of such a vessel, his experience, as related at the commencement of this tale, should certainly have pointed him out as that man.

If there were any lingering doubts in the minds of the whites, they were instantly set at rest by seeing the canoe put out from the shore, and head across toward the Kentucky bank. The tufted heads of three Indians were visible, and their paddles flashed brightly in the sunlight, as the frail vessel shot swiftly over the surface of the water.

"I didn't mane to alarm yees, but maning no offince to the iligant lady present, might I vinture to suggest in the mildest terms possible, there'd bist be none but men on deck jist now."

"He is right," said Waring, in a lower tone to our heroine, "it is best that you go below."

"I will do so, if you think I should," she replied, suiting her action to her word. "Do you wish father to come up?"

"There is no need of it."

The girl closed the door, and Waring turned toward his friends.

By this time the canoe had nearly crossed the stream. A few moments later, it glided under the Kentucky banks, and three Indians sprang out.

It was with peculiar emotions that the inmates of the flat- boat gradually came opposite this canoe. They had just seen three of their deadly enemies withdraw under the protection of the shrubbery and undergrowth of the shore, and they had every reason to believe that there were others in the vicinity.

"It can't be that they are friendly," suggested Waring, who was all but certain that such could not be the case.

"Friendly divils!" repeated Pat Mulroony. "Every mother's son of 'em is in the war paint, and they'd sooner scalp all of us, not barring the lady—God bless her. Talk of friendly Injins in this part of the wurruld!"

By this time, the flat-boat was opposite the canoe, whose stern could be distinctly seen underneath the dense shrubbery that lined the bank. The conversation ceased of its own accord, and the three men carefully lowered their heads, so that no stray shot could reach them. In the sides of the boat were one or two small orifices, which Waring had had perforated for the purpose of gazing out, just at such times as these, and our friends used them on this occasion.

Looking out, Hezekiah discerned through the interstices of the undergrowth the forms of two crouching Indians, their eyes glowing, their faces all agleam with ferocity, and their bedaubed visages ten times more horrid in appearance than he could have dreamed it possible for a human being to be.

When just fairly abreast of them, a jet of fire was seen to flash among the shrubbery, and as the sharp report of a rifle broke the stillness of the woods, a bullet grated over the top of the flat-boat, and was plainly heard by all, as it plainly cut its way through the leaves on the opposite side of the river, with that peculiar zip-zip made by the rapid passage of a stone or other object through the trees of a forest.

"By the Howly Virgin! take that!" exclaimed Pat, springing up and discharging his rifle at the spot where he saw the faint wreath of smoke curling upward. "How does that faal?"

"They haven't felt it at all," whispered Waring. "Be careful and keep your head out of sight, or you'll be struck."

"How do you know he wasn't struck?" demanded Pat in high dudgeon. "Did you see the passage of the bullet?"

"A wild Indian always yells when a bullet hits him, and they haven't made the least noise."

"Begorrah! but you're right. I've struck a redskin afore to-day, and he always screamed like a painter. It was an uncomfortably close rub, faith, for all that."

Both shores were closely scanned, but nothing more of the savages was seen; and after drifting half a mile or so down stream, our three friends ventured occasionally to show their heads to any who might be lingering along the banks. This, however, was a dangerous proceeding almost at any time, and as there was no necessity for it, it was not often done by any of the three. The reason why Waring was not visible when Hezekiah and Pat first hailed the flat-boat, was not because he did not see or hear them, but because he had prudence enough to keep himself out of sight.

By this time the afternoon was considerably advanced, and Waring invited his two friends to descend into the cabin and partake of the dinner, which Virginia Lander had just announced.

"And who stays above, if I may be allowed to ask?" inquired Hezekiah, with an anxious expression of countenance.

"I do myself; have no apprehension upon that score."

His alarm thus quieted, Hezekiah hesitated no longer.

In the cabin he found a plain, substantial meal prepared, to which he, Pat, Mr. Lander, and our heroine seated themselves. The elderly personage besought the blessing of God upon the food spread before them, and spoke not a another word during the meal.

Great as was Hezekiah's hunger, his curiosity was equally great, and, accordingly, as he masticated the food, he kept his eyes rolling continually about him in search of knowledge. He noticed that the cabin was divided into two compartments, one of which he naturally concluded was devoted to the exclusive use of the young lady who presided at the table. Several times he was on the point of asking permission to take a look into this. But his sense of propriety prevented him, and he devoured his victuals in silence.

As for Pat, he was hungry—that was sufficient. Excepting the food itself, nothing presented the least attraction to him, and he devoured this with a gusto that put to shame the achievements of the others.

The meal finished, the two returned to the deck, and took the place of Waring, while he partook of his dinner. As our two friends looked out upon the still, solemn forest, and the placid, unruffled river, down which they were so noiselessly gliding, they could hardly realize that the profound silence that then held reign was as treacherous as the calm which precedes the marshaling of the storm king's forces upon the ocean. And yet they well knew that within the depths of this wilderness lurked the Indian, whose life was devoted to the one object of exterminating the white race: that he was as cunning and crafty as years of war and bloodshed could make him, and that no means would be left untried to encompass the death of themselves and those with them.

"Hezekiah," said Pat, upon whom this impressive scene had not been entirely lost, "have you ever been in these parts before?"

"Never in all my born days, and I wish to Heaven I wasn't here now."

"What's the trouble now? Begorrah, ye isn't scart, be yees?"

"Yes, Pat, I ain't ashamed to own it—I am scart. I tell you, 'twixt you and me, there's danger hangin' over this craft. I can smell it in the air, I can feel it in my bones. If we don't see trouble afore to-morrow morning, then I'm most mightily mistaken."

"I incline to the same opinion, though I wouldn't be saying it afore the lady down there, and frightenin' the wits out of her. I'd like to know, be the same token, what that old curmudgeon is doin' on this boat?"

"You mean the old man? I should think it would be the last place for him. Never mind, Pat, let come what will, you and I stick together, don't we?"

"Of course we do."

There is nothing that will make friends as soon as a sense of impending danger hanging over both. Let two entire strangers meet under circumstances like these, and in ten minutes they will be on as good terms, and devoted to each other, as though they had been bosom friends for a dozen years. The cause of this is very plain—it is the interest of both to be so.

Hezekiah thought he had never met so fine a fellow as Pat Mulroony; one, whose kindness of heart was so great, and whose friendship was as disinterested; and as for the Celt, although he did not express himself thus, his opinion of the New Englander was very nearly the same.

"You asked awhile ago," said Hezekiah, after a moment's pause, "whether I had ever been in these parts. If you have no objection, I should like to know whether you have been here?"

"Yes, I was about this place last summer with a party, but we didn't go any farther down the river."

"I understood that you were further west than you had ever been before; but then I might have been mistaken. If you have no objection, I should like to hear the particulars of your visit."

"Can't tell it now," replied the Irishman, as though the subject were distasteful to him.

At this moment Waring made his appearance, and was shortly followed by Mr. Lander, who, taking a seat near the cabin, maintained a strict silence during the conversation of the others.

Hezekiah merely glanced at the young man, and saw, as if by instinct, that the same sense of impending danger that so troubled himself, was shared by him also. There was an anxious expression upon his countenance that he had not seen there before; a certain restless nervousness in his manner, which he sought in vain to conceal.

"We are going to have a dark night of it," said he, looking up to the sky.

"As dark as Egypt," added Hezekiah. "I recollect that I nearly battered my brains out, last night, in trying to walk through the woods."

"The moon will not be up till three o'clock in the morning, and, I might as well be plain with you, friends, it will be life and death with us before that time."

"Just what we're thinkin'. Drat the Indians," exclaimed Hezekiah. "I can feel it in my bones that I am going to get into a scrape to-night."

CHAPTER IV.

THE NIGHT ATTACK.

The night gradually closed down upon the flat-boat. Upon inquiry, Hezekiah found that their elderly companion, Mr. Lander, instead of being an assistant to them, was an encumbrance. A confirmed invalid, he was barely able to remain on his feet for more than a few moments, and had expressed the wish only that he might be allowed to reach the settlement and die.

He was totally unfit to handle a rifle, and had not attempted it for years, so that, although Waring had another weapon beside his own, it may be stated that he started upon this expedition entirely alone—a proceeding, that in its foolhardiness, was unaccountable.

As Waring had predicted, the night proved of intense darkness.

In a few hours, both shores became entirely invisible, and shortly after, it was almost impossible to see the length of the boat. Under these circumstances, it was proposed to work the flat-boat into shore, and tie up for the night. All were totally unacquainted with the windings of the river, and they were fearful that they might run aground in the darkness, and be unable to get the craft afloat again. They were pretty certain, too, that they had been constantly watched from the banks, and that it would not be long before the Indian canoes would be ranging up and down the river in search of them.

If this were the case, their only plans of escaping them would be by sweeping into shore, and remaining there until the moon arose. On the other hand, it was hardly probable that the flat-boat could approach nigh enough to the shore, to gain any protection from it.

The water was so shallow, that it was likely to ground when several rods distant, in which case, the situation of the fugitives would be far worse than if attacked while in the midst of the channel. And beside this, they also ran the chance of being discovered, even if they should reach the bank without grounding.

The savages would be passing up and down the shore; and as it would require considerable effort and some noise to work the lumbering concern out of the course it was pursuing, the trained ears of the redskins could hardly fail to detect it.

All these considerations being taken into account, it was decided that, for an hour or two at least, they would keep their position in the midst of the channel.

The greatest cause for alarm, as we have before hinted, lay in the fact that not one of the whites in the flat-boat was acquainted with the river.

They were drifting aimlessly downward, only conscious of their general direction. The Ohio River abounds, as all our readers are aware, with numerous islands, and many of these lying directly in the middle of the stream—our friends had good cause to apprehend running upon one of them.

The flat-boat had a long oar swung at either end, by which its motions were controlled, much in the same manner that the rafts which descend our rivers at this day are managed.

To guard as much as possible against the calamity mentioned, Hezekiah Smith and Pat Mulroony passed to the forward part of the boat, so as to be ready, not only to sheer the boat off, when "breakers" were discovered, but to be prepared for any venturesome Shawanoes that might choose this as their point of attack.

Mr. Lander and his daughter remained below, as both well knew their presence would be of no assistance to those above; and the whites were thus disposed when the incident we are about to describe took place.

Hezekiah stood leaning over the prow, listening intently for the least evidence of the approach of their enemies. The only sound as yet heard, was what might be characterized as the audible silence of the forest—that deep, solemn roar, like the distant voice of the ocean, that is as eternal as the great sea itself.

Now and then, the melancholy night wind moaned through the tree tops, with a dismal and lonely voice, in consonance with the feelings of the three listeners; and once or twice the far off scream of some denizen of the forest was borne faintly forward to their ear.

Then, again, the silence became so profound, that the soft ripple of the current could be heard against some projecting root, or dipping branch. But these sounds were all natural to the wilderness, and excited no emotions, except to add to the dreary loneliness of the scene.

The New Englander had stood in the attitude of attention for more than an hour, when he detected the cautious dip of a paddle. He instantly raised his head and peered out in the direction from which it came, but in the Stygian darkness could detect nothing at all. He maintained the same attitude for full an hour, during which he heard the sound repeated twice. Fully satisfied that strangers were in the vicinity, he gave utterance to a suppressed whistle, to place Waring on the guard, and leaning toward Pat, he asked in a whisper whether, if he had no objection to tell, he had detected any suspicious sound.

"There's a haythen canoe that has been following us for the last hour or more, or my name isn't Pat Mulroony."

"Hist! there it is again!" admonished Hezekiah, arching his neck, and gazing out in the darkness. Both listened, but Pat failed to hear that which had startled his companion.

"They're mighty oncareful is them same Injins," added the Irishman. "Whisht! but look! there's the divils this minute!"

As he spoke, Pat sprang up in great excitement, and pointed out on the river. Looking in the same direction Hezekiah caught the outlines of a long Indian canoe, filled with shadowy figures, which glided under the prow of the flat-boat, and came to rest as noiselessly as a phantom. Almost at the same instant a tufted head appeared above the gunwale, but it was crushed like an eggshell by a tremendous blow from the clubbed rifle of the Irishman. This was scarce done when the head and shoulders of another rose within a foot of where Hezekiah stood.

"Take that, you thundering redskin!" he exclaimed, striking him a terrible blow square in the face, that sent the dusky savage spinning out in mid-air, with the blood spouting from his nostrils. "Dern your picter! what business you got poking your head up here? I say, Waring, the Indians have come—look out for them."

In his excitement, Hezekiah Smith dropped his rifle, and springing up and down, as though the deck had suddenly become red hot, he delivered his fearful blows indiscriminately, while Pat kept his rifle swinging like the arms of a windmill.

"Begorrah! but the shillaleh comes natural to the Tipperary boys!" he exclaimed, between his set teeth, "and Pat Mulroony was born with one in his hand, and has been trained up to the illigant profession of breaking heads. Some of ye will go home to-night with bootiful faces, barrin' yer won't have any faces at all to go home with."

The Indians had evidently counted upon a surprise, and were not prepared for the furious courage with which they were received. They had followed the flat-boat until they judged the inmates were either asleep or off their guard, when they had come upon them in the stealthy manner narrated. The consequence was that in less than five minutes after the attack, the canoe had disappeared with the surviving Shawanoes, and nothing was heard save the slapping of Hezekiah's feet as he still sprang up and down the deck, and swung his arms around him ready for the next bronzed head that might offer. It required Pat some time to convince him that the danger for the present had passed, and there were no more enemies to contend against. By degrees he became quieted, and was able to converse rationally when Waring made his appearance among them.

During all this tumult, Lander had not shown himself, nor even so much as given evidence that he felt the least concern at the conflict going on. His daughter, when the firing had subsided, cautiously opened the door, and called the name of her lover. He instantly assured her that the savages had fled, and besought her to return to her room. First receiving a hurried but fervent kiss upon her blanched cheek, she complied, imploring him to be careful and not expose himself unnecessarily to danger.

A silence as profound as that of the tomb, succeeded the onslaught of the savages. Some minutes later, the noise of paddles was again heard; but, as Hezekiah had, by this time, gained his equilibrium of mind, and convinced that the Shawanoes could not immediately attempt the same stratagem in which they had so signally failed, he returned to his place beside Waring, leaving the Irishman alone at the bow of the boat.

"If you have no objection to tell me," said Hezekiah in his usual insinuating voice, "what do you propose to do, now that we are in the midst of danger? How, in thunder, are we to get out?"

"I am afraid," replied Waring, "that the Indians are constantly ranging up and down the river, and so long as we remain in the channel we are not safe."

"How do you propose to get out of the channel?"

"Let us work the craft into shore, and wait till the moon rises before starting. Thinking that we are in the middle of the current, they will not look along the bank for us, and we shall thus be safe until we can see where we are."

It was Waring who first proposed to run in under the protection of the bank, and he had never once doubted its expediency. He advocated it now so earnestly that neither Hezekiah nor Pat made any objection. Accordingly, the long, sweeping oars were dipped deeply and silently into the water, and under the powerful impulse of the sturdy-armed men it began gradually veering off toward the Ohio shore. The greatest caution was exercised, as the creaking of one of the sweeps might tell any savages in the vicinity what the whites were doing. This was a delicate task, but our friends believed they were succeeding as well they could wish. All at once, the dark line of trees were discovered through the darkness, and ceasing their efforts, the boat continued approaching, until the branches brushed over their heads, and the bottom, striking the mud of the stream, the forward motion of the craft was checked.

The whites had every reason to be pleased with their situation had not a slight accident caused them a little anxiety. As Pat Mulroony attempted to shove a limb from before him, it broke with a cracking noise that could have been heard across the river. This caused so much apprehension, that for a time, Waring was on the point of working the boat out into the current again; but, finally, his fears subsided, and he concluded to remain in his present position until the rising of the moon. The flat-boat lay about ten feet from the mainland, and had grounded so slightly that had it not been secured by tying it to one of the branches ahead, it would have floated off again. This was the precise situation in which Waring had been anxious to get it; and, excepting the slight accident alluded to above, he had every reason to be satisfied with the state of affairs. The darkness was so great, and the peculiar position in which the craft lay so favorable, that no Shawanoe would have discovered it in passing within a dozen feet of it had not his suspicion been first attracted to it.

The three whites remained on deck, now and then whispering to each other, and passing on tiptoe from one portion to another, but nothing more of their enemies was seen or heard for a long time.

Pat Mulroony was leaning over the prow, as he had been leaning for the last hour, and was looking down in the water, when he discerned a dark, ball-like object moving along on the surface. At first, he took it to be a piece of floating wood; but, as it passed around the prow, in a manner that the motion of the current could not have caused, he was not long in identifying it. It was the head of an Indian.

Communicating this fact to Waring and Hezekiah, the hold upon the branch was loosened, and under the additional impulse of the oars, the flat bottom was once more floating down the Ohio.

CHAPTER V.

GROUND.

The whites on the flat-boat had committed a mistake natural to persons in their situation.

As they waited along shore, in the most painful suspense, the hours wore slowly away, and seemed double their usual length. Thus it happened that at the moment of sweeping out into the current, each believed it to be about three o'clock in the morning, and were looking for the appearance of the moon, when, in reality, it was barely midnight.

Waring and Pat experienced some peculiar sensations, as they toiled at the oar. Knowing that one Indian, at least, had discovered their hiding-place, they had every reason to believe that a whole war-party were aware of it, and so long as the shadowy outline of the shore was discernible, they were in constant expectation of receiving a volley from their invisible foes.

But, as the dark mass of trees blended with the night, and at length faded from their view altogether, they ceased their efforts, and breathed freer.

"Now," said Waring, "I don't care how soon the moon shows itself. With all the windings and islands, we need light to see the way."

"If you have no objection, I should like to inquire how soon do you expect the moon to rise?"

"Why, right away—that is, within a few minutes."

"So it seems it ought to do: but, Waring, don't you know how much longer time seems to persons in our circumstances, than it does as other times. I know when I used to court Jemima Hopkins, after ten o'clock, the hour didn't seem more than ten minutes long; and then again, when I had to sit up in the winter, and keep the wolves out of the sheep-pen, every hour seemed a month long. Now, Waring, I don't want to hurt your feelings—it may be three o'clock in the morning, but I don't believe it."

"I know how apt we are to miscalculate time on such occasions, and I have tried to make allowance for it. With all that allowance made, it strikes me that the moon must be in the horizon by this time."

"I hope it is so; but the best thing we can do, is to calk'late as how it ain't agwine to be there for some hours yet and making our arrangements accordingly. Eh, Waring?"

"You are right, I admit. In fact, we can do nothing else. We are going it blind now—knowing only that we are going down the Ohio."

"Do you think, that is, if you have no objection to tell, do you think that these Indians will try the same method of attacking us?"

"It is not to be supposed they will, unless their party is large enough to insure them victory. Nevertheless, we must be on the lookout for their devilments. I say, Pat, ahead there, don't forget to keep a sharp lookout for mischief."

"Aye, aye, that I will, barring it isn't possible to look out at all. Be the Hooly Virgin! I see something now, sure."

Hezekiah was at his side in an instant. Looking ahead, he saw a dark mass looming up in the darkness directly before them, as if it was approaching.

"It's one of them islands," he exclaimed. "The all-fired thing is afloat, and is running into us. Quick, Waring, the oar."

As he spoke, he and Pat seized the sweep of the oar, and commenced using it with all their energy. Close as they were upon the land, they would have cleared it, had they not, in their hurry and excitement, committed the blunder of working against each other; that is, while Pat and Hezekiah did their utmost to veer the boat toward the Ohio shore, Waring struggled to clear the island by going on the Kentucky side. The consequence of these efforts was, that ere they had taken a dozen strokes, the flat-boat grated upon the gravelly bottom, and went broad side upon the island.

As the current was quite rapid at this portion of the river the raft was driven with such force upon the beach that Waring saw at once that it would be impossible to get it off again, unless it was lighted of its entire load. Springing down upon the island, he took a hasty survey of its situation, so far as the darkness would permit, and as Hezekiah and Pat joined him, mentioning the plan that we have stated, he said—

"There is no other help for it, and we must make quick work of it. The moon at the very farthest will be up in twenty minutes, and it won't do for any of the savages to discover us, but, to get off, it will be necessary for your father to come ashore. Is he awake?"

"Yes," said Virginia, who arose upon hearing the bottom of the boat grating upon the gravel, "and will be here in a moment."

Virginia was assisted to descend by her lover, and a moment later her father followed her. The other three men instantly set to work, and in ten minutes the boat was sufficiently lightened to make the attempt to get it afloat again. By the united efforts of the three it was shoved out into deep water, where, to their dismay, they saw it commence settling down, as though it were sinking.

"Begorrah! but what does that mane?" cried Pat, in astonishment.

"Hark! if I ain't mistaken, I hear the water rushing in its bottom."

With one bound, Waring sprang upon the gunwale, and descended into the cabin. One glance was sufficient. An immense hole had been stove in by the concussion, and a foot of water was already in the cabin. The flat-boat was now going down, and there was no hope of saving it.

With rare presence of mind, Waring leaped back into the water, and attempted to shove the boat far enough away to make it sink out of sight when it did go down, it being his wish that the Indians should discover nothing of their mishap when the moon arose, or in the morning. But in this he did not succeed. He had hardly touched his shoulder to it when he felt that it had already touched bottom, the water being scarcely eighteen inches deep—so low, in fact, that no one viewing it from the shore, would suspect its true condition.

"This is a little more than I suspected," said Waring, gloomily, as he stepped ashore. "That rotten old flat-boat will never do us one bit of good, with such a hole smashed in it."

"Can it not be repaired in the morning?" asked Mr. Lander, who seemed affected as little by adverse as by favorable circumstances.

"Repaired? no, we should never have ventured out on the river, in such an old hulk as that. But it can't be helped now; we must make the best of a bad bargain. When the moon rises, we'll get an idea of our situation."

"It may be," said Hezekiah, hoping to encourage Virginia, "that this island is near enough for us to wade to the main land."

"Suppose it is, what good will it do us?" asked Waring.

"Why, as the settlement can't be more than a dozen miles distant, if you have no objection, we might walk the rest of the way through the woods."

"If we could only get the boat afloat again, or make it sink out of sight; but there's the trouble. However, there's no use of crying for spilt milk. Can you propose nothing for us to do, Pat?"

"I propowses to wait till we get some more light, and then we'll take a luk at things."

"And in the meantime let us make ourselves as comfortable as the circumstances will permit," added Mr. Lander, philosophically.

It being a warm summer night, the whites suffered little or no personal inconvenience from their exposed situation. It was found that this portion of the island, at least, was covered with trees and rank undergrowth, which protected them from the night wind, slight as it was. To make matters in that respect sure, however, Mr. Lander proposed that a fire should be started, but when he found what a storm of objection he had raised, he said no more upon that subject.

There being nothing else for them to do, then, the whites withdrew within the trees, and seating themselves upon the ground, waited the advent of the moon, which from some unaccountable cause to them, was so long delayed.

CHAPTER VI.

RECONNOITERING THE ISLAND—A STARTLING OCCURRENCE.

As the moon rose above the forest, and shone down upon the river, the whites began to gather some idea of their situation. They found that the island upon which they had been stranded was about in the centre of the stream, and that, as a consequence, it would require considerable wading to reach the mainland on either side.

The wooded bank of the Kentucky shore being thrown into deep shadow by overhanging branches, it was impossible for them to discern whether any canoes were lying under it or not. The hearts of all beat painfully as they looked upon the flat-boat, now of no further earthly use to them, standing out like a beacon to inform all where the whites had taken refuge. It seemed to them impossible that the Shawanoes could fail to see it.

The island was found to be more considerable in extent than had been first supposed. It was over an eighth of a mile from one extremity to another, thickly wooded, and covered with rank grass and a dense undergrowth. It was oval-shaped, and remarkably regular in its contour, being somewhat over two hundred feet broad in its widest portion.

"What a splendid summer sate this would make fur a gintleman like meself," said Pat, as the two stood under the shadow of a tree, on the lowermost portion of the island.

"It really would," replied Hezekiah. "Now I shouldn't wonder if it should be used for that very purpose in a few years."

The speaker was right in his prophecy. These very lines are being written upon that very island—one of the most beautiful of all the isles of the beautiful river.

"Be the same token, it's the summer sate of a party of travelers at this minute, and it's likely that we'll make quite a stay upon it."

"I hope there ain't any Indians watching us," said Hezekiah, as he shiveringly looked toward the shore of the dark and bloody ground.

"So does Pat Mulroony, but"——

"Jerusalem! jest look there!" exclaimed Hezekiah, springing clean off his feet.

"Whisht! where? I see nothing."

"Here! here! this way!" whispered Hezekiah, pulling his shoulder around. "It ain't there—it's on the island, right above us! Look—don't you see it?"

"I see the traas, and the darkness, and that's all."

"It was gone the minute you looked. There it is again! There, it's gone! What makes it act that way?"

"What is it, man, you're making such a hullabaloo about?"

"Why, sir," said Smith, solemnly, "as sure as you and I are living, I seen a light moving around on the island!"

"It's Pat Mulroony that"——

Smith suddenly caught the Irishman's shoulder as with a grip of iron, and without whispering a word pointed meaningly toward the trees where he had first seen the alarming manifestation. There was no mistaking this time. Pat Mulroony saw a bright light shining steadily through the trees, so brightly and steadily that he knew it could not be many rods from them. Withdrawing more closely under the dark shadow of their own tree, Pat whispered:

"We must craap up and see what the haythens are doing."

"I say, Pat, I say—that is—you've no objection to go alone, have you?"

"Why can't yees go with me?"

"I can, of course I can, but then what's the use? I'll stay here, and keep watch."

"And what's the naad of your kaaping watch at this poortion?"

"You know some of the Indians might slip onto the island while we are gone, or," added Hezekiah, catching at the thought, "these same Indians might try to slip off. Jerusalem! that wouldn't do, you know."

"Doesn't yees wish to go with me?" persisted Pat.

"I would prefer remaining here, my dear Patrick."

"Well, then, kaap quiet and sthill like, and I'll soon be back wid yees. Don't stir if you hear a noise."

"I say, Patrick"——

But the Irishman was gone.

"I hope he doesn't think I'm afraid," soliloquized Hezekiah when he found he was alone. "I think I have proved by this time that I am not. If I was scairt any I would never have come out into this outlandish country. I don't know about that though," he added, after a moment's thought; "I did hate to come into this wilderness most terribly, but I had to do it, and I might as well own up, when there's no one to hear me, that I was most thunderingly scairt, and am this minute. What do I want to go crawling around this cussed island for? I wish I had never seen it. I've a great notion to wade over to the Kentucky shore, and go home."

We must do Smith the credit, however, of stating that he did not even attempt to act upon this thought. When a moment's reflection showed him how contemptible and cowardly such a course would be, he felt like butting his head against a tree, that he should have allowed himself to entertain such an idea for a moment.

"I hope the Irishman knows enough to keep his eyes about him," he continued. "That young Waring was right in saying the crisis of the danger would be reached to-night. We're in the crisis now, and a derned ticklish affair it is, too."

Hezekiah was standing in the attitude of acute attention, every faculty absorbed in the one of listening, when his whole being was thrilled by the explosion of two rifles, followed by a series of horrid yells that made his blood curdle. It needed no thought to tell him that these came from the throats of the Shawanoes, and that the most that he had feared had taken place.

His first impression was that Pat Mulroony had been discovered, and fired upon, and that his own safety was in imminent danger; but, when he came to reflect more quietly, he knew by the distance of the sounds, that they came from the upper portion of the island, and that it was the friends who had been left behind that were attacked. Believing, then, that Pat was safe for the present, he decided to remain in his present position until he was rejoined by him.

Hezekiah had hardly come to this conclusion when a slight grating noise upon the shingle of the beach caught his ear, and turning his head he saw that a canoe had just landed within twenty feet of him, and, at that very moment, two painted Indians were in the act of stepping ashore. With his heart in his throat, he shivered around to the opposite side of the tree, and tremblingly watched the actions of these savages.

They were very deliberate in their movements, seeming to take notice of the tumult which, a moment before, had broken the profound stillness of stream and wood.

First pulling the canoe high upon the land, each took a rifle from it, and then strode directly toward the tree which concealed the frightened man. As they passed so near, that he could have touched him with his own rifle, he absolutely believed they would hear his heart beat. But such a thing has never taken place, no matter how wildly that organ has throbbed, and then the Indians, who would have detected the faintest sound, passed on, and disappeared in the wood of the island, without once suspecting how nigh they had been to one of the very beings for whom they were searching.

They had hardly gone, when Pat Mulroony stole cautiously forth into view, and looking carefully about him to satisfy himself that he had not lost his reckoning, ran on tiptoe to where Hezekiah stood.

"What did you see?" breathlessly inquired the latter.

"May our howly mother presarve us, but the island is full of the haythen!"

"What was that light we seen?"

"It was the camp-fire of a whole pack of the divils! But we're in a bad fix."

"Didn't you hear them rifles? They're in a worse fix," said Hezekiah, in an undertone. "What's to be done?"

"That's what puzzles me. We must get back if we can, and see what the outlandish divils have been at."

The two started toward the upper end of the island, the Irishman not disdaining to use the utmost caution. Every dozen yards or so, he paused and listened for the slightest warning of danger; and, as for Hezekiah, he expected each moment to see a whole horde of screeching Shawanoes rush out from the trees and annihilate them.

Some two-thirds of the distance was thus accomplished without any further evidence of the presence of their foes, when the Irishman, who was only a few feet in advance, again halted with a whispered exclamation.

Following the direction of his finger, Hezekiah saw several dark objects moving away from the island, which he made out to be canoes.

Fearful of being seen, the two whites withdrew further from the shore.

They had gone but a few feet, when they found themselves in a sort of natural clearing, some twenty yards in diameter, seemingly made by some terrific whirlwind. And here, in the centre of this clearing they saw a sight that made their blood run cold with horror!

The moon by this time was high in the heavens, and the centre of the clearing was lit up as if at noon day; and directly under the full tide of light, was stretched the lifeless form of Mr. Lander. He lay on his back, all his limbs outstretched, with his skull cloven by a tomahawk! He seemed to have made no resistance when the awful blow was given, but had fallen back, and instantly expired. His features were so disfigured that, had it not been for his clothes, our friends could not have recognized him. Spell-bound, and horror-struck, they gazed at the heart-sickening sight for a long time!

CHAPTER VII.

ADVENTURE ON THE ISLAND.

For some time after the departure of Hezekiah and Pat Mulroony, Waring and Virginia Lander stood silent and thoughtful. Several feet away, they could see the form of her father, seated upon the ground, his head bowed forward, and his whole soul seemingly stricken with despair.

"He appears to feel our sorrow more than we do," whispered Waring, whose heart bled for the suffering man.

"It is not that," replied Virginia; "it is his bodily sufferings that trouble him. Poor father! how I wish to brush the hair from his clammy brow. I will go to him in a minute—he is praying now."

A soft, murmuring monotone was audible, and young Waring knew that he was engaged with his Maker. The scene was too impressive, their surroundings too solemn, for them to indulge in conversation, and they preserved a respectful silence; the maiden leaning upon her betrothed, and waiting until her parent was through before she should go to him.

After the lapse of several more minutes, she saw him raise his head, and walking hastily toward him, threw her arms around his neck, and gave way to her tears of sorrow. Her whole soul was in agony, and her grief could not be restrained. Waring, who was accustomed to the suffering of the father, witnessed the emotion of the loving daughter, and was so overcome that he suddenly turned his head, and moved away. It was too much for him.

Hardly conscious of what he was doing, he walked slowly out from the protection of the trees, and stood on the moonlit beach. He placed the stock of his rifle on the hard shingle, and leaning upon it, gave way to the most gloomy meditations.

Directly before him, as motionless as a rock, rested the hulk of the sunken flat-boat. The soft ripple of the Ohio against the sand at his feet, that deep, hollow murmur of the great wilderness, were the only sounds that reached him; and these, from their monotonous continuity, seemed silence itself. The moon was nearly overhead, shining in that peculiar manner, that the river seemed to reflect more light than it received. A few straggling clouds, as white as snow-drifts, now and then floated before the moon, and huge, grotesque shadows glided over the island, across the stream, and into the wood, like phantoms. On either side, the frowning forest rose like a wall of blackness and seemed to close the whites in an impregnable prison.

It was no wonder that the young adventurer felt gloomy and despairing. It could not be otherwise than thus, while within a dozen miles of the settlement, and in the most dangerous portion of the river, an accident should place him and his friends in the most imminent peril, and make the escape of all of them, as it seemed to him, an utter impossibility.

Waring was in the midst of these gloomy forebodings, when the noise of a light footstep startled him, and looking around, he turned to greet his friends:

"Well, what have you discovered?" he added. "Are we alone on the island?"

To his surprise he received no reply.

"What are the prospects of our getting over the mainland"——

As quick as lightning Waring's rifle was at his shoulder, and one of the approaching Shawanoes was shot through the breast. With a wild yell, he sprang high in the air, and fell dead upon the sand. At the same moment the white man saw something cleave the air, and heard a rushing sound close to his face, followed by the splash of the tomahawk in the water behind him. Clubbing his rifle, he stood on the defensive, when he noted that neither of the savages had possessed a rifle, and conscious that he was more than a match for the surviving one, he made a rush at him.

The Indian turned to flee, and Waring had hardly started in pursuit, when the report of a second rifle was heard among the trees, followed by a series of whoops and yells, as if a legion of demons had suddenly been loosed. With that presence of mind which ever characterized the young man, he comprehended his critical peril in an instant. The trees were swarming with Shawanoes. If he went a rod further, his destruction would be inevitable.

Wheeling around with such celerity, that his momentum carried him nearly off his feet, he flung his gun from him, and ran for life to the flat-boat. Stepping one foot into the water, he made a tremendous bound, and alighted upon the gunwale, the same as a bird would have done; and then tearing his hat from his head, he concentrated all his energies in the one effort, and sprang full fifteen feet out into the river.

The instant he came to the surface, he gasped for breath and dove again, swimming while beneath the surface, as far out toward the Kentucky shore as it was possible, repeating the manœuver several times, until believing he was at a safe distance from the island, he swam sideways, and anxiously surveyed the island.

So prompt and rapid had been his movements, that he had not been seen, and his own escape, if he chose to improve the opportunity given him, was at least insured; but Luther Waring would have rather been smitten by instant annihilation, rather than desert the two beings that he had left behind him. The thought had never once entered his head.

He continued off the island until the current had nearly carried him half way to the water's edge, so that he believed he had run little risk of discovery. As he walked in under the shadows, several forms followed him like phantoms, while as many more closed around him from the wood. Waring had taken but a few steps, when he was startled by hearing a deep groan. His apprehension told him at once that it was the voice of Lander, and he was moving toward the point from which it came, when he caught a glimpse of the shadow-like figures around him, and saw that the most dangerous crisis of his life was upon him.

The Shawanoes had not yet surrounded him, and conscious that all depended upon a quick and energetic decision, Waring made a dash to regain the river. The dense undergrowth at this portion of the island impeded the movements of both pursuer and pursued; but the activity of the white man was superior, and he was the foremost at the beach, when, making another terrific leap, he bounded out into deep water, and dove beneath the surface.

While submerged, Waring heard distinctly the dull report of the rifles, and the skipping of the bullets, as they glanced over the water. Being a skilful swimmer, he turned upon his back, and as he was borne slowly upward, he allowed only his mouth and nose to be exposed, when, inhaling a sufficient quantity of air, he again dove, and repeated precisely the same manœuver that we have described before.

Finally, believing he was again safe, he allowed his head and shoulders to come to view, and looked back toward the island. To his dismay, an Indian canoe was within a dozen feet of him. Its occupants descried him at the same moment that he discovered them, and now commenced a most exciting race of life and death.

One minute would have decided the contest in the middle of the river, but fortunately, indeed, Waring's efforts had brought him within a few rods of the shore. Fearful of being fired upon, he repeated his stratagem of diving, and when he came to the surface, struggled frantically to gain the shore, with the canoe darting forward like a shadow. As soon as he could gain a foothold, he tore through the foaming water, and dashed into the woods, while the canoe was scarcely twice its length behind him.

It was only by the most skilful running, dodging, and doubling, that Waring succeeded in freeing himself from his agile pursuers. He had gone fully half a mile in the forest before this was accomplished, but he found himself, at length, entirely alone, and panting and exhausted, he seated himself upon the ground, to decide upon the next course to pursue.

He could not think of leaving the island, when he had every reason to believe that all he held dear on earth was upon it. Virginia was a captive in the hands of the merciless Shawanoes, and even if he could afford her no assistance, he could certainly learn something of her fate, and form some plan for her rescue.

With this determination he arose, and retraced his steps. It is hardly necessary to say that he made his way as silently, stealthily and cautiously as it was his ability to do; starting at every rustling wind, or falling leaf. Upon reaching the shore of the river, he found that he was above the island, and again wading it, swam out toward it.

Waring wished, if possible, to recover his rifle, and gain a glimpse of the band of Indians who had slain Lander, and who held his daughter captive. Steadying himself, he allowed the current to carry him downward, and when several rods distant, checked his motion, and took a survey of the flat-boat and the surroundings.

He saw his rifle lying on the beach, its ornamented stock and barrel shining in the moonlight. After carefully surveying every portion of the island, that came under his observation, he detected no sign of danger, and was about to let himself float forward again, when the lifted head of the Shawanoe rose above the gunwale, and remained in view for fully a minute.

As the moon shone fully upon the savage, Waring distinguished the features plainly. He concluded at once that there was several others upon the flat-boat, and all waiting for his return. The savage gazed carefully about him, and descrying nothing, his head disappeared from view.

"Ah, my fine fellow," thought Waring, as he noiselessly swam toward the Ohio shore, "you may watch there quite a while, before you catch me in any of your traps. You have had enough blood for to-night."

He now floated slowly down the river, keeping about midway between the island and the Ohio bank, and, so far as possible, examined the former, as he passed the bank. Reaching its extremity, he passed around it, and commenced ascending the opposite side, so as to complete his reconnoisance.

This was an extremely difficult task, and none but the most powerful swimmer could have accomplished it. But Waring succeeded, and finally "anchored" for a few moments abreast of the flat-boat, while he took another observation of it. He saw nothing more of the Indians, although he firmly believed they were still upon it.

He was convinced that the major portion of the Shawanoes were still upon the island, and after floating somewhat lower, he landed at precisely the same spot where he came so nigh being captured before. Feeling confident that he had not been seen, he unhesitatingly came ashore, and passed beneath the shadow of the trees.

Upon coming from the water, his limbs were so heavy, and he felt so exhausted, that he threw himself down upon the ground, to gain a few moments rest. Despite the exciting scenes through which he had just participated, and the terrible ordeal through which he had just passed, he fell asleep almost immediately.

It was in the midst of a fearful dream of tomahawks, scalping-knives, Indians and murders, that he was awakened by a grasp upon his arm. Believing resistance to be useless, he lay motionless, waiting for the command of his captors.

"If you've no objection, I should like to inquire whether you are not about through with your nap?" inquired the well-known voice of Hezekiah Smith.

CHAPTER VIII.

STILL ON THE ISLAND.

The dull, grey light that now began to overspread the sky, gave token of the coming day, and the three whites withdrew further into the grove for consultation.

"This is a bad business," remarked Waring, after he had exchanged experiences with his friends. "The infernal devils have outwitted us at last. God knows what will become of Virginia. Her poor father is already dead!"

"Yes, we have seen him," said Hezekiah, with a shudder at the remembrance of the awful scene. "He isn't a dozen rods away from us."

"Let us give him a decent burial," added Waring. "We can find some means to scoop out a grave for him."

The three moved away to the clearing, but, upon reaching it, nothing of the body was to be seen. The Shawanoes had carried it from the island.

"Perhaps it is as well," said Waring. "He is beyond all pain and suffering, and the disposal of his body can make no difference to him, although I would that we could have performed the last sad rites for him."

"Wall," said Hezekiah, clamping his rifle down upon the ground, as he came to a halt, and folding his arm over it, "here we is, and the question afore this assembly is how we're going to get away. What do you propose to do, my dear Patrick?"

"I advise that we ate breakfast."

"The only objection to that," replied Waring, "is that we have none to eat; but, badinage aside, we must first go over this island again, and learn whether there are any of the demons left. If not, we must get on their track, for, as true as the heaven is above me, I never go to that settlement without Virginia."

"I am certain—that is, as certain as I can be—that the last of the Indians left the island a half hour ago. We seen their canoes going off."

At the extremity of the island the three separated, as had been proposed, and commenced making their way back again.

In doing this, it was necessary to avoid exposing themselves to any who might be on either shore of the mainland, and, from the great caution that was necessary, the work was an extremely difficult and tedious one.

It was not until full two hours had elapsed that the three whites met on the spot where Virginia Lander had been taken prisoner.

Their search, or examination, as it might be termed, proved that the savages had, indeed, left the island, not a sign of one having been discovered. They had probably done this under the belief that the whites had succeeded in reaching the mainland, so that the latter were convinced that, if they kept themselves concealed through the day they would not be disturbed, and could easily get away when night came again. The ashes of their camp-fire had been discovered, and blood upon the leaves, and other evidences of their recent visit.

"But, if you have no objection to tell, where's your rifle?" asked Hezekiah, who had noticed that Waring was unprovided with that weapon.

The latter looked through the trees.

"Yonder it lies this very minute. Strange, that they did not steal that also. I will go and recover it."

He paused, ere he had passed out from among the trees, for the very fact that the rifle lay there undisturbed, sent a suspicious pang through him. It seemed improbable that such an occurrence could be mere accident. A true Indian rarely, if ever, committed such an oversight. The rifle was magnificently mounted, and would have been a prize to any one.

There was another matter which, in Waring's state of mind, excited suspicion and apprehension. He believed the gun did not lie on the precise spot where he had thrown it. He recollected that he had flung it with such force that it must have gone very nearly to the edge of the beach, whereas it now lay either on the very spot that he had passed over, or a few feet upon the opposite side.

This circumstance, which, at any other time, would have attracted no attention at all, caused Waring great uneasiness. He felt that it was by no means certain that everything was right upon the island, even though it had been proven that their enemies had just left it. It looked to him as though a trap had been laid to ensnare him, and this rifle of his, lying but a few yards distant, was the bait.

Feeling pretty well convinced that there was some design in the presence of this rifle, he set himself to work to discover the precise means by which it was intended to entrap him. There being no Indians on the island, of course he ran no risk of being taken prisoner, in case he ventured out to recover the weapon. The distance from this point to either shore was so slight that it would have been the easiest matter in the world for a concealed savage to pick him off. The gun could not be recovered without exposing himself to this peril.

Ah! the flat-boat! Waring's heart leapt at the thought. Strange that it had not occurred to him before. There it lay, just as it had during the night, save, perhaps, that it had sunk a few inches lower. It was upon that he had seen the heads of several Indians, and there, in all probability they still lay in wait, watching for his reappearance.

What reason had these Shawanoes to suppose that Waring could again return to the island. The best of reasons. He had shown to them a desire to do so, and as long as he believed that Virginia Lander was there, the savages well knew he would linger in the vicinity. Once upon the island, he would not fail to recover his gun, provided he believed he incurred no additional danger in doing so.

That, then, he concluded, was the solution of the question. Taking other matters into consideration, Waring came to the conclusion that it was their desire to take him prisoner instead of shooting him, deeming, most probably, the latter death far too comfortable a mode for him to use in getting out of the world. He knew enough of the blood-thirsty savages to understand what a terrible fate would be his, in case he fell into their hands. They would take a fearful vengeance for the Shawanoe he had killed in self-defence. Well, indeed, had it been for the feeble Mr. Lander that he was so enfeebled and weakened. It brought him a speedy death, instead of a lingering torture.

These reflections, which we have recorded at some length, occupied Waring but a few seconds. He saw everything with a hunter's eye, and, with a shake of his head, stepped back a pace or two, and resumed his position beside the Irishman and Hezekiah.

"What's the matter?" asked the latter.

"It won't do—it won't do."

"What won't do? Do you mean to go out there and pick your rifle?"

"Yes, that is what I mean."

"What is to hinder?"

"I don't like the looks of that flat-boat."

"Whew!" blew Hezekiah, surveying the object in question as though he had never seen it. "If you've no objection, might I inquire why you don't like it?"

"I am afraid there are Indians concealed upon it. I saw them there last night."

And now arose a dispute in which all three of the whites engaged. Waring, who most certainly was the best qualified to judge, expressed it as his firm conviction that a half dozen Shawanoes, at least, were at that moment glaring out from the flat-boat, and waiting for their reappearance. Hezekiah dissented, and persistently maintained that there was but one savage upon the craft, and that he lay in the cabin sound asleep! He could give no satisfactory reason to the others for this belief, but he appeared sincerely to believe it himself. Pat Mulroony, on the contrary, was ready to swear that there wasn't a redskin on the island, flat-boat, either bank, or within five miles of them!

"Be jabers! I'll soon find out."

"How?"

"I am going on the owld flat-boat itself."

Pat's companions begged, entreated, and implored, but all to no purpose. He had resolved to prove what he had argued, and he now prepared to do it.

CHAPTER IX.

A FEARFUL ADVENTURE.

It is not to be supposed that Pat Mulroony was entirely free from fear, when he resolved upon the venture of which we have spoken. The strenuous assertions of Waring, the equally positive belief of Hezekiah, and their united protestations convinced him that they were at least sincere and honest in their efforts to preserve him from harm. Nevertheless, like a genuine Irishman, he sturdily combated them, determined to demonstrate his sincerity by actual experiment.

It is a fact that a man may commence with the assertion of an absolute falsehood, and conscious, at the beginning, that he is defending such, argues himself in time into the belief that it is genuine truth.

Pat Mulroony had walked two-thirds of the distance to the hulk, and was within a few feet of the water, when he paused. He had discovered a fearful and startling thing!

That which arrested the brave-hearted Irishman, was the sight of a human eye. At a small augur-like orifice at the mouth of the boat he suddenly distinguished the glowing eye-ball of a Shawanoe Indian! It was glaring like a demon's, and a cannon-ball would not have stopped him sooner.

Waring and Hezekiah, noticing his hesitation, called out in a whisper for him to return. This very call was the means of sending him forward again. He was resolved that they should never laugh at this adventure, and with rather a quickened step, he strode forward, and catching the gunwale by one hand, he carried himself with one bound over upon the deck.

He had left his rifle behind, and was armed only with his knife. His two friends breathlessly watched him and listened. They saw his head and broad shoulders gradually lower as he walked undauntedly toward the stern of the boat, until the bow hid them from sight, and then all was still.

The silence lasted for perhaps a full minute, and then was broken by a yell as startling and terrific as an explosion of thunder in the clear summer sky. Instantly a half dozen tufted heads was seen dodging hither and thither over the deck, all centering around one burly, bare-headed figure that was struggling like a lion amid a score of enemies which had dogged him nigh to death.

While Waring and Hezekiah gazed transfixed with horror, a powerful-limbed Indian shot up like a rocket in mid-air, and came down in the river. Ere he had struck, another went spinning after him, falling flat on his face in the water, with a concussion that cracked like a pistol. While they were swimming with all speed back to the boat, a heavy fall was heard, a faint shuffling noise, and then all was still.

As the foremost Indian was in the act of pulling himself over the gunwale of the flat-boat he let go with a horrid whoop, and fell back dead, killed by the bullet from Waring's rifle. The other attempted to swim behind the stern, but Hezekiah shot him through the brain ere it could be accomplished.

There could be but one cause for the sudden cessation of the tumult upon the flat-boat. Pat had either been overcome or slain. The silence that succeeded the fearful yell and the struggle was equally painful and impressive to his two friends. They waited long and impatiently for it to be broken.

"It's all up with him!" whispered Waring, as he primed his rifle. "I pity him, but our hands are clear of his blood."

"Too bad, too bad," muttered Hezekiah, who had just loaded his rifle, "he was a good fellow, my dear Patrick was indeed. I am sorry that he has come to this bad end!"

"We must look out for ourselves now. The best thing we can do is to get off this infernal island, which has been the scene of such misfortune to us. I am afraid that if we remain much longer, you will take it into your head to perform some such a feat, and I shall be left alone."

"No, indeed, I won't, there's no danger of that," added Hezekiah, so eagerly and earnestly that it brought a smile to the face of Waring.

"It is yet early in the forenoon, and I suppose we shall be compelled to remain here until night."

"Of course we shall! It won't do to start out in the river in open daylight. We'd be killed before we had gone a dozen inches."

"Hello! did you hear that?" exclaimed Waring.

Several whoops were heard upon the Kentucky shore, apparently in answer to these which had been uttered some minutes before by the captors of Pat Mulroony. Peering through the trees, Waring added:

"There is a party of the thieves, coming off from the mainland in a canoe. Get ready for hot work."

"Drat the things—can't we hide?" anxiously asked Hezekiah, looking around him for any place that might offer.

"No; we must stand our ground; they have just started."

The canoe which was approaching was a large Indian one, in which were seated three or four Shawanoes, all busily plying their paddles. They headed straight for the upper end of the island, while the whites stood each behind a tree, with cocked rifles, waiting until they were compelled to fire.

Just as the canoe seemed about to touch, it sheered off, and ran alongside of the flat-boat, where it lay against and parallel to it. The heads of four savages immediately appeared above, as though they were staggering under the weight of some heavy load. The next second, Pat Mulroony, bound hand and foot, was handed over, and deposited in the bottom of the canoe. His friends could hear him muttering dire threats of vengeance, and daring his captors to loose him for a moment, all of which it is needless to say attracted no notice whatever.

The captive disposed of, the Shawanoes followed, sinking the canoe to its very gunwales. They paddled away toward the shore, and in a few moments disappeared from view.

"Now, at least," said Waring, "the island and boat are free of the imps, and we can have a breathing spell. Let us go upon the old hulk."

"What in the world do you want to do that for?"

"It is the safest place."

"If you've no objection, I should like to inquire how it can be the safest place?"

"In the first place there is no one upon it, and in the second place, as its sides are bullet-proof, we can use it as a fort, and keep off any number of foes until dark, when we can get off ourselves."

"Let's go upon it, then, before they come back."

It was with some misgiving, slight enough, but still sufficient to occasion uneasiness, that Waring once more approached the flat-boat. When he reached the deck, he experienced an irresistible desire to explore every portion of it, not that he suspected the presence of any Indian, but that he could not feel positively assured until he had done so. The result was that it was found to be entirely empty of any persons except themselves. The cabin was half full of water, and it was here that the Shawanoes must have concealed themselves while their victim was approaching.

CHAPTER X.

COMPANIONS IN CAPTIVITY.

With his usual recklessness, Pat Mulroony, after arriving upon the hulk of the flat-boat, descended into the cabin. He had just reached the base, when he espied several Indians, and he immediately retreated to the deck again.

Knowing that he was "in for it," he turned, and catching the foremost Indian in his arms, threw him bodily into the water. The second he served in the same manner, when he found the redskins were coming up rather too fast for convenience. However, he gave the third a tremendous blow in the face, and commenced laying about him in regular Donnybrook style, when his foot slipped, and ere he could rise he was seized and bound.

"Trate me gintlemanly," said he, "for yese can't deny but what I sarved yese in the same manner."

The Indians could but respect the bravery he had shown, and they offered him no violence. He was then passed over the side into the canoe, and transported to the shore. Shortly after, his captors joined the main body, where he met Virginia Lander, in the same helpless situation as himself.

The Shawanoes were gathered in an irregular circle around the fire, some smoking, others chatting, and others apparently asleep.

The savages had thrown a brilliant crimson shawl over her shoulders, and her hair being as jetty black as theirs, and her head bowed, he had taken her for one of their number when he first looked upon them. Virginia sat with her head bowed, for her heart was stricken with grief. The picture of her cherished father springing up with his wild look, and running through the trees, pursued by his merciless enemies, was ever before her. She could not drive it from her, and shudder after shudder ran through her frame, and the tears trickled thick and fast between her fingers.

How changed since yesterday! Suffering, misfortune, and death, had come upon them—had swept her only relative upon earth from her, and separated her from him who was dearer than any relative could be! All alone—alone!

No, she was not all alone! There was One who was ever nigh her—who never lost sight of his stricken ones, and who only could comfort her in this dark hour which had come upon her. To Him she turned, as the human heart will turn, when bleeding and lacerated, and refusing to be comforted by any sympathy the world can give.

But it was hard to be separated from all kindred. The thought was loathsome and full of abhorrence that she, an unprotected woman, was alone among a party of blood-thirsty savages. She hardly dare look upon them, and yet looking through her tears she ventured to steal a glance at them. How her heart leaped, as her gaze rested upon the broad, jovial face of Pat Mulroony, his pitying blue eyes fixed upon herself. Removing her hands, she looked up, and with a mournful smile returned his nod of recognition. Comprehending the question her very looks formed, the quick-witted Irishman replied:

"Yes, I'm the only one beside yerself that the haythen have, and they wouldn't have got me if I hadn't struck at 'em too hard, and missed 'em. Ye jist keep quiet, my jewel, and ye'll hear of Pat Mulroony agin."

A sort of consultation was now held among the Shawanoes, relating not to the prisoners, but to those who were not, the debate being as to what means should be employed to capture them also. After a protracted discussion it was decided that the whole party, with the exception of enough to guard the prisoners, should cross over to the island and boldly attack them.

This decided upon, the preparations were instantly completed, and the warriors moved down to the bank, leaving Virginia and Pat to the guardianship of two of their number. At the very moment of reaching the river they descried the two whites as they climbed upon the flat-boat.

This caused a halt and a further debate. Large as was the Indian party, a majority were opposed to assaulting the whites in their stronghold. They had already learned enough of their mettle to understand that this would be a most dangerous undertaking upon their part, and many more were convinced that there was no hope at all of success, even with the loss of two-thirds of their number.

It was actually decided to give up the hope of securing the two remaining whites by this means. The sagacious Indians suspecting the relation which existed between one of them and one of the captives already in their possession, believed a much better opportunity would be offered. Love will play the wild with any man, and lead him to attempt deeds which in his cooler moments he would pronounce madness. So they were content to bide their time.

CHAPTER XI.

As the Shawanoes had invariably come from and returned to the Kentucky side of the river, Waring concluded that the entire war party was upon that shore, and it was therefore determined in leaving the island that they should cross over to the same bank.

"It will bother us somewhat to manage our rifles," said he, "and as we may need them the instant we touch land, we must keep them and our ammunition out of the water."

"Rip off a piece of this old hulk, and float them over on that."

"A good idea."

The suggestion of Hezekiah was adopted at once. A portion of the cabin was loosened and placed in the water, and upon it was laid their two rifles and powder horns. The raft thus formed was so buoyant as to afford them material assistance in swimming.

The night was of inky darkness; the most favorable that the two adventurers could have wished. Yet, fearing that the savages might suspect some such stratagem as this, they allowed themselves to drift downward with the raft until they had passed the lowermost portion of the island, when they shoved out into deep water, and commenced working their way cautiously over toward the Dark and Bloody Ground.