Chapter XXX · CONCLUSION

For a full minute the two lads just sat there and stared at each other. Neither could say a single word; indeed, they did not seem to even breathe, such was the excess of sheer happiness that passed over them like a great wave.

Their father's innocence then was proved! His old-time neighbors knew now how grievously they had wronged the one whose name had never before been smirched with a suspicion of evil doing!

Suddenly Sandy awoke. He sprang up and began to dance wildly about, while he flung his arms above his head and shouted at the top of his strong, boyish voice.

"It's come at last, Bob! Just think of it! Father is able to look any man in the face now! Hurrah! it was worth all it cost to learn this! Yes, and I'd go through it again if I had to. Thank you, Mr. Hemphill, thank you! You will find a happy family when you go home with us, and a warm welcome there!"

The stranded man looked out over that tumbling sea, and shrugged his shoulders.

"Do we have to take the chances of crossing that swollen stream?" he asked.

"Yes," said Bob; "but we have mended our boat, and will have three strong new paddles to work with. We could stay here until to-morrow, but I fear the river may be even worse then than now. But you have made us both happy. We feel that nothing ought to keep us from reaching home this day, to carry the blessed news to our dear ones!"

Bob started back at his work with feverish eagerness; but now joy filled his soul, and caused him to chop with new zeal.

The third paddle was hewn out even while Sandy was smoothing off the second with his jackknife, he being a master-hand at such work, as many boys were in the days when few amusements were given them.

It was now about the middle of the afternoon. The sky was still gloomy overhead, and Bob had fears that the rain would set in again.

"Another reason why we ought to try to cross before darkness comes," he said, when they spoke about this.

"I only hope it does not start when we are out on that flood," answered Sandy, with a shiver.

"That would be a misfortune," declared Silas Hemphill. "Surely we will not be deserted in the eleventh hour. I hope to shake David Armstrong's hand to-night."

Sandy hurried the finishing of the third paddle. He did not relish the voyage they had before them; but there seemed no other course open.

Before starting out they made all things as secure as possible. Hemphill had by this time fully recovered and professed himself not only willing, but able, to do his share of the paddling. The canoe would carry three, though one might find it necessary at times to stop paddling in order to bale out what water dashed over the sides.

Bob had taken as good a view as possible of their expected course. As he could not see a great distance down the river he might only surmise what awaited them there.

Of course the one prime necessity was to make as quickly as they could toward shore, taking advantage of every eddy to gain a few inches or feet at a time.

"I believe I have learned something from our past experience," he remarked, as he took his place in the stern, ready to push off.

Sandy occupied the bow, while Silas Hemphill was a fixture in the centre, where he could assist with his blade, or dip water over the side, as occasion arose.

"Ready?" asked Bob, trying to appear quite at his ease, though doubtless his heart was thumping at a tremendous rate at the prospect of their once more daring the dangers of the flood.

"Yes, push off, Bob!" said Sandy, wonderfully grave, for him.

Truth to tell there was no doubt but that every one of them just then was occupied with secretly praying that success might attend their object, and the friendly shore be attained in safety.

"Here goes, then!"

With the words Bob gave a shove, and the canoe once more danced upon the swollen waters of the furious Ohio.

Immediately every paddle was set to work. The boat made a good start, and shot away from the lower end of the island like a thing of life, heading for the southern bank of the river.

Then came that strong current, and seized hold. The paddles rose and fell, fast and faster. Muscles were brought to bear that dipped the blades deeply below the surface, and, despite the sweep of the tide, they kept continually edging nearer and nearer the goal for which they were aiming.

There was a deep satisfaction in this. It spurred them all on to doing better things. When a wave slopped over the side Silas Hemphill needed no reminder to tell him his duty, but, picking up the little cooking kettle, he started to relieve the canoe of its burden of water.

No one said a word. There was scant breath for the work that occupied their attention, not to mention talking. Actions must take the place of conversation at such a time.

All the while Bob knew that they were gaining. The shore for a brief space of time stood out more positively than before. True, it was beginning to rain, and coming down harder and harder with each passing moment; but even this could not wholly cast a damper over his satisfaction.

"Keep going! All is well!"

He managed to shout these few words, feeling that Sandy might be in need of encouragement.

Just where they might be no one could even give a guess now. It was a fight in the dark, apparently; but it could not last much longer.

Already had Bob noticed with joy that the "pull" of the current was slackening considerably. There could be but one reason for that—the shore was close by, and here the swollen river moved with far less impetuosity than out in the middle.

At times it had been difficult to wholly avoid a collision with some of the floating trees; but these never varied in their steady downward progress, and the canoe was capable of veering out of the way, so that thus far they had succeeded in keeping trouble at bay.

"Only a little more, Sandy!" called Bob.

Silas Hemphill again had his paddle working, and all together they sent the boat flying to the shore. But not one of them was able to raise a cheer when finally they ran aground.

They lay there in the canoe for a short time, limp and exhausted, satisfied to know that they were at last safely landed.

It was Sandy's quick eyes that suddenly made a discovery.

"Look! where we have come to land, Bob!" he exclaimed, pointing to some bulky object that seemed to be fastened to the shore with ropes.

"Why!" cried Bob, also taken aback, "as sure as anything that must be Captain Heally's new flatboat, on which he expects some day to drift further down the Ohio! What luck, Mr. Hemphill! Just to think that we have landed in front of home!"

They made haste to scramble ashore, after which the canoe was carried up out of reach of the hungry tide. By this time several men, who had been watching to see that the ropes holding the flatboat did not give way, had heard them, and came hastening to the spot.

Shouldering the buffalo meat which had been safely carried through all their adventures, and with their guns and new paddles, the boys started up the hill, eager to reassure those dear ones, who must certainly be worrying concerning their safety.

Kate was the first to sight them. The girl had been to the lookout when the rain held up, hoping to get some glimpse of the boat, though no one believed it could cross the river in all that angry storm. She had returned to the cabin when once more the rain came down, but was sitting at a door looking forth when, through the mists, she caught sight of them.

Presently the boys and their guest were inside the cabin, where a warm welcome awaited them. Sandy of course could not keep back the good news.

"Father!" he cried, drawing the stranger forward, "this is Mr. Silas Hemphill, and he brings you great joy. Coming from our old home, he tells us the barn-burner has been found, and confessed his crime! And who do you think it was, but that good-for-nothing slave, Black Scipio, owned by Jason Diggett himself, and who wanted to even the score after receiving twenty lashes at the hands of his master!"

David Armstrong's strong face paled. Words failed him in that supreme moment of happiness. He could only turn his mute eyes toward his wife, who in turn bent her head; and the boys knew she was giving thanks to the great God on high, because her faith had not been in vain.

It was a happy household that gathered under the Armstrong roof that night. Wild though the winds howled across the waste of waters, furious as the flood swept past, inside their walls all was serene.

Again and again did the newcomer have to tell his story. It seemed as though none of them could ever hear it often enough. And, tired though both boys must have been after their hard experiences of that day, neither would think of going to bed until a late hour.

On the morrow a happy event took place, for both companions of Silas Hemphill made their appearance. They had fortunately kept together, and, being carried near a tree, managed to scramble into the branches. Some miles down the stream the tree was stranded near the shore, after getting in an eddy; and by great good luck they landed, to make their way to the settlement.

David Armstrong thought little of returning to his old Virginia home, even though his name had been cleared. This new country looked far too good to him to give it up, and, besides, there were too many bitter memories connected with the Virginia town.

In good time the repentant Jason Diggett did send out quite a bountiful supply of such things as he fancied the new settlers might need. David at first was inclined to refuse, but finally accepted the gift as in some sort an acknowledgment of reparation for the wrong done him. What the little family did not need he could readily barter with the Indians in his new trade relations, receiving in return valuable skins that he could exchange for money or for tea, sugar and such necessities.

Occasionally Bob and Sandy saw their red friend, Blue Jacket; but he was chary about coming to the settlement, not having any great liking for the whites except the Armstrong family.

The two young pioneers considered that they had well nigh exhausted the stock of adventures that were to fall to their portion when they rescued Silas Hemphill from the flood, and carried him across the raging river to bring good news to the Armstrong cabin.

Little did they suspect that still more strenuous events were going to befall them later on that same season, when their little sister Kate was carried off a prisoner by the roving Iroquois. But these adventures must be kept for the next story of this series of frontier adventure, to be called: "The Pioneer Boys on the Great Lakes; or, On the Trail of the Iroquois."

The new settlement waxed strong in numbers, as more people came out from the far country beyond the range of mountains, and joined their forces with those who were first on the ground. A blockhouse was soon finished, in which the settlers could find refuge in case of an Indian attack. Fields were planted as fast as the forest was cleared; and before Fall arrived it was one of the most thriving places west of Fort Pitt.

Daniel Boone came again, and with him that fine fellow, Simon Kenton; just then starting out on his adventurous career, and destined to become so famous in the annals of border warfare. In him the brave and warlike red men found a fearless enemy, equal to Boone himself, and one ready to dare any peril in defence of the hardy settlers.

As the summer waxed and waned Bob and Sandy Armstrong went about their business of providing the family with fresh meat, for game laws were unknown in those early days, and working men must have food to sustain their strength.

While there were occasional times when the Shawanees swooped down upon the border settlements, they somehow seemed to leave this peaceful home community alone. And David Armstrong and his friends understood that this immunity was the result of the time when Bob and Sandy took the wounded brave in charge, and saved his life. Blue Jacket guarded their interests; and the whole community profited from the charge.

THE END.