CHAPTER II.

NIGHT ON THE OHIO.—A VISITOR.—AN ORIGINAL CHARACTER.—PREMONITIONS OF DANGER.

The eagle eye of Napyank, the hunter, failed to detect anything suspicious. He knew that they were journeying through the most dangerous part of the great wilderness which at that day, stretched for hundreds of miles west of the Alleghanies. As he reflected upon the unanimity which his friends had enjoyed thus far, he could but wonder at the cause. There had others attempted this same project, and bitterly rued the day that the thought entered their heads.

Only a few months before, Napyank himself had attempted to pilot a flat-boat down the river. In the dead of night, when the whole crew were on the watch, a large body of Indians stole upon them, and in a twinkling had possession of the boat, and most of its inmates. What became of the unfortunate captives, none could tell, for neither Napyank, nor the two or three who escaped with him ever saw or heard of them again. But imagination can easily decide their fate, in the face of what was so well known to all those who had heard of the North Americans Indians.

The afternoon was far advanced, and still the flat-boat glided uninterruptedly forward. As yet no further sign of their enemies were visible. The vast forests lining the shores, were as quiet and motionless as if no man or animal had disturbed the solitude. The river flowed as placidly forward as it had for centuries. The sun had risen on the same scene that day that it had thousands of times before, and was about to set as it had for ages, when this sudden evidence of the advancing white men made his appearance.

Not another sign of life except the whirring of a flock of birds overhead was seen. The flat-boat with its handfull of human beings, was alone in that great solitude floating slowly and gently down the river, in which hundreds of similar adventurers were yet to find their graves.

In a few moments, the flat-boat swept around a bend in the river, and came in view of another extended portion of the Ohio. Viewed from a distance, it had much the appearance of a huge square box floating aimlessly onward. At either end a lengthy oar was hung, which now and then some hand dipped into the water, when, after surging a few moments, it remained at rest. The box-like appearance of the boat, ended at the prow and astern, where it took more the shape of a lawful boat. The cabin ran the entire length, except at each end stern was left a space of sufficient dimensions to contain a half-dozen men. Above these spaces, the heavy bullet-proof planks rose for fully five feet. A small narrow window was pierced in the side, opening and shutting from within, while a trap-door above afforded still more secure means of obtaining light, or of affording egress to those within. The spaces referred to at the end communicated with the cabin, so that the entire length of the flat-boat could be traversed, without being exposed to a shot from the most vigilant enemy outside. This was McGowan’s arrangement, and he deserved credit for the originality he had shown. Under his skilful management the lumbering vessel had been constructed into a regular floating fort. A hail-storm of bullets were as harmless as so many pebbles. To this fact, perhaps, may be attributed the remarkable good fortune that had attended our friends from the start. The ever-watchful savages, seeing such a craft,—so different from that which had usually met their gaze—naturally supposed there was a formidable force behind it, and frequently were reluctant to attempt to board it.

Still Napyank was too experienced and shrewd to believe this state of things would last much longer. The prize was too tempting for the savages to allow it to glide quietly through their grasp.

The hunter informed McGowan, that he strongly suspected the real crisis was to come that night.

“Yes, sir, I do,” he exclaimed in a low and emphatic tone. “Look out for night.”

“If we get through that?”

“Well enough; you ain’t got much furder to go.”

“We’d better stay up to-night.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then, I’ll go below for awhile.”

A moment later and Joe Napyank was left alone on the deck of the flat-boat.

As he stood with his right arm partly raised, resting upon the oar his keen nervous eyes fixed upon the river beyond, he was a fine specimen of the daring pioneer of the West.

Gradually the day waned and the gloomy shadows lengthened over the river. The great wilderness became darker and gloomier and the form of the hunter gradually blended with the night.

An hour later, the full moon rolled above the forest, and the river glistened brightly in its rays. Silently the flat-boat glided onward, its skilful pilot ever maintaining its position as near the centre of the river as possible.

The cabin, we may remark in this place, was divided into two compartments of nearly the same size. The forward was the sleeping one for the females, and was only occupied by them during the night. The other was the general sitting-room in which all remained most of the day, and in which the men spent the night.

A dim light was burning, sending forth a heavy oily smoke, which found vent through the trap-door above. The faces of all looked wan and ghastly in the sickly yellow light.

They, however, remained but a comparatively short time below. Their meal finished and they all went above,—the two Smiths, including also the wife, took their position at the bow of the boat, when they could look, fight if necessary and—keep still.

It was far from being the case at the bow, where were congregated McGowan, Napyank, young Smith, and Mrs. McGowan and her daughter. They were disposed to enjoy the scene as much as possible.

“If we could feel safe,” remarked Ruth, “how happy we could be. This scenery is splendid.”

“Yes,” replied the father, who was somewhat impressed by the majestic solemnity of his surroundings. “It’s enough to make any man feel solemn.”

“This would be a grand old night to go on a serenade,” said young Smith, glancing at Ruth.

“I’ve no doubt there are several Indian residences in the vicinity,” said McGowan. “Suppose you sing a song in front of them. No doubt it will be appreciated.”

“I should like to sing the death-song of all of them.”

“How soon before we reach our home?” inquired Ruth McGowan of the hunter.

“We ought to be there to-morrow afternoon, if we suffer no interruption.”

“And this is the last night we are to spend upon the river?”

“I hope it is.”

“How rejoiced I am!” exclaimed Ruth with a glowing face.

“But,” said the hunter deeming it best to check her exuberance, “we haven’t reached that point yet.”

“Of course not, but we soon shall. How brightly the moon shines! It is almost as light as day.”

“It is not going to last,” said Napyank, “there are clouds coming up in the sky, and it will not be long before we are in the darkness. Hello? Smith there has discovered something. What is it, Smith?”

“Look over the side of the boat,” said the elder, making a desperate effort to break his reticence.

The hunter did so, and instantly detected the head of a man on the surface of the water, approaching the boat.

“I ought to have seen that,” he said catching up his rifle. “There is a man swimming out to us. I say, you,” he called, addressing the individual in the river, “What is it you want?”

The man puffing and blowing, continued rapidly to near the vessel, but made no reply. The hunter raised his rifle in a significant manner.

“Don’t shoot,” admonished McGowan, “one man can do no harm.”

All were now crowding toward the gunwale, when Napyank requested them to keep back. A moment later, the form in the water had reached the flat-boat and now called out,

“Would yees have the onspakable kindness to lower a rope jist, and assist a gintleman on board?”

What a revulsion the sound of that voice created! The cheery brogue, of a humorous Irishman established a feeling of brotherhood on the moment.

“Teddy O’Donnell, as certain as I’m alive,” exclaimed Napyank, as he assisted him on board.

The next moment a great, huge, strapping Irishman came floundering over the gunwale, like a prodigious porpoise that had just been hooked.

“The top of the morning to yees, barrin it isn’t morning but night,” said he. “I graats yees with plisure.”

“You are welcome, very welcome,” said McGowan. “We are glad of a friend at any time. But you are very wet. Would it not be best to change your clothes.”

“Yas,” drawled the Irishman, with irresistible comicality, “there’s only a slight objection to these same. This is the ownly suit I possesses, and therefore if I should attimpt to change it, me costhume would be rather too airy for the obsarvers.”

There was such a dry humor in all that the man uttered, that he soon had his listeners on a broad grin. The Irishman seemed totally unimpressed by the gloom and threatening stillness of the woods, and could joke even over his own descomfiture. The manner of his meeting with the hunter showed that both were friends, though none of the others recollected ever having seen him. Five minutes after his advent upon the deck, all were as well acquainted, as if they had known each other for a lifetime.

“I did not exactly mean that,” said McGowan, alluding to his last remark. “We are well provided with clothes, and if you will go below with Smith here, he will see that you are speedily adjusted in a comfortable rig.”

“Your obedient sarvant,” said Teddy, tipping his hat to young Smith, with all the gallantry of a cavalier, and descending with him into the cabin.

“He is what I call an original genius,” remarked McGowan to Napyank, when Teddy had departed.

“He is a great fellow Teddy. He’s one of the best hearted Irishman I ever met.”

“I noticed you were acquainted.”

“I’ve known him for a dozen years; he’s sort of a scout for the frontier posts. I can’t say I’m really glad he has joined us.”

“Why not?” inquired McGowan in astonishment.

“’Cause he’s always been considered the onluckiest dog in these parts. I never knowed him to go on a scent but what he had got into some confounded scrape.”

“I should consider him very fortunate then, that he has escaped with his life, and lives to tell the tale,” said Ruth.

“Perhaps he is,” answered the hunter, who did not wish to occasion any alarm. “I didn’t think of that way of looking at it.”

“Why does he continue such a life?”

“It’s just his delight. That feller is covered with cuts and scars, and hacks he’s got from the Injins. I couldn’t tell how many times he’s had his skull cracked.”

“What brings him here?”

“He’s had the redskins after him, and has had to take to the river to get away from ’em. If it hadn’t been for the flat-boat, it would’ve been all over with him.”

“He must be a brave man indeed.”

“He’s all that; he’d rather fight any time than eat. If he can work it to get into a scrimmage with the dogs, before we reach the settlement he will do so.”

“If he is so pugnacious as that, I trust you will be able to restrain him. He has no right to run us into any danger to justify his predilections.”

“He won’t do that; it will be himself only that he will try to get into trouble. Last summer, I went out in Kentucky with him. Afore we knowed it, we got a whole batch after us, and had to take to the river to give ’em the slip. We managed to throw ’em off the scent, and being pretty well worn out, hide under some bushes. We hadn’t been there long, when another party came along and squatted down right by us. They staid awhile and was going off without disturbing us, when this Teddy jumped up with a yell, and went right among ’em, using his gun for a shillalah, and whacking ’em over the head.”

“Of course, I had to pitch in with him, and it was about the worst scrimmage of my life. We gave some of the tallest kind of yelling, and I s’pose it must have been that scart ’em, for it want long before they left.”

“It is strange he escapes with his life.”

“Some of these days he will go under. His head is so hard that it seems to me he never can get it hurt, and, as that’s where he does generally get basted, that must be the reason he stands it so well.”

At this juncture, the subject of their remarks reappeared on deck, in such grotesque attire, that laughter was involuntary upon the part of all who saw him. His pantaloons were too baggy and far too large, his coat reached to his heels, and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. As for the shirt there can be nothing said regarding that, as there was none at all; for shoes, he retained his moccasins.

“That’s what I tarm a butiful shtyle of avening dress; also a choice one, bein’ there is no other to take your choice from.”

“You are comfortable at least,” remarked McGowan.

“I faals so jist at praisent. I haven’t got exactly, sot to ’em but I s’pose I will pretty soon.”

“You remain with us, I hope.”

“I hopes the same; I s’pose you’re bound for the settlement down the river?”

“Yes.”

“I have an appointment to meet Simon Kenton there, so if yees doesn’t object to my company, I’ll jine yees.”

“With all pleasure. The sight of a white face in these parts does us good.”

Teddy laughed heartily.

“It’s meseelf that doesn’t lay claim to being the same. When I had to dodge me head to give the redskins the slip, it was the first washing I had given my face since this saison set in—that’s the fact the first time since this saison set in.”

Ruth McGowan’s horror was unbounded, until her lover reminded her that this was the first day of summer, so that Teddy perhaps was as tidy as the generality of humanity.

“You came on us rather unexpectedly,” said young Smith.

“Yees did the same wid meself if you’ll allow to make the observation.”

“Another scrimmage?” inquired Napyank.

“Nothing hardly worth of mentioning. I undertook to crack the heads of a half-dozen I found slaping, and would have done it, if it hadn’t been for a thrifling thing.”

“And what was that?”

“They cracked mi own widout given me the chance to return the compliment.”

“You then took to the water?”

“I did not. I tuk to the woods, with the intention of coming back and given ’em a partin’ crack, when I cotched sight of this old barn floating down shtream.”

“Why didn’t you hail us?” inquired the hunter, with a peculiarly significant intonation.

“Arrah git out! din’t I try that last shpring, and you holding the guiding oar in your hand all these times, and knowin’ it was meself, and you bawling it was a decoy so as to keep me thramping till I had to shwim out to yees and haul meself on boord? Git out wid yer nonsense.”

Napyank laughed as if the recollection afforded him great pleasure.

“Yees are an unfaaling creature,” continued Teddy. “Yees have sarved me more that one ongintlemanly thrick.”

“Why, what now, Teddy?”

“Yees remimbers when ye wid not lit me tackle the ridskins out in Kaintuck.”

“But they were a dozen, and we were only two.”

“What the odds! We had not cracked a head for a waak, and there was emminent danger of me losing the scientific touch of the business.”

“It’s plain to see when you are in your element,” commented McGowan, and then addressing the ladies,

“Come, it is time you went below; it is getting quite late.”

The females took this palpable hint; and bidding their friends good night descended into the cabin. Teddy tipped his hat and scraped his foot, with all the politeness at his command and then turned to his new made friends.