CHAPTER VIII.

A NIGHT VOYAGE DOWN THE RIVER.—SINGULAR APPEARANCE.—THE DEPARTURE.

Huddled together in the densest portion of the wood on the island, were the little band of fugitives. While the fitful tumult of deadly strife was going on around them, they had been compelled to sit still and not raise a hand either on the defensive or offensive.

To McGowan especially this was exceedingly galling. Strong, ambitious and genuinely brave as he was, he longed to give the persecuting redskins a taste of his temper, and more than once he clutched his rifle with a resolve to go to the assistance of his friends. But there were more helpless ones that it was his duty to guard. He had agreed to remain by these unless called forth by imperative necessity.

The death of his old comrade Smith was a severe trial to him as well as to his family. He was stricken down so suddenly that he had scarcely time to realize it until now, when he sat quiet and meditative. Mrs. Smith had been bowed with grief ever since. Her smothered sobs now and then reached the ears and hearts of those around her, as she vainly endeavored to keep down her emotion.

Abram Smith sat stern and silent, grasping his gun and looking around him, as if longing for a chance to revenge the death of his parent. No evidence of feeling escaped him, but “still waters run deep,” and there can be no question but that the inmost recesses of his heart were deeply stirred.

As the night advanced and darkness increased, the fugitives gathered more closely together. In addition to the distress of mind they were exceedingly hungry, and their condition was therefore as uncomfortable as could be well imagined.

Suddenly a light footstep caught the ear of the two sentinels, and as they looked up they distinguished two forms that glided insidiously among them. The assuring voice of Napyank was immediately heard.

“Don’t be skeart; it’s us.”

“We are glad of your return; we’re beginning to get lonely.”

“And hungry too, I make no doubt.”

“You are right there, if you refer to myself, and there can be no doubt but that the others are in the same condition.”

“Well, I tried to get you a bite, and succeeded, I think. It won’t do to start a fire, so I’ll hand it round.”

“That is what you called a bundle of clothes?” remarked the young man. “You were very prudent to say the least.”

The thoughtful hunter had managed to secure and cook some game, which he passed around to the distressed fugitives. It was partaken of with a keen relish, despite their gloomy situation, and each was filled and refreshed.

“Now,” said McGowan, when they had finished, “it seems to me it is time we began to think of getting from the island. God help poor Ruth! what is to become of her?”

“She’ll be rescued,” was the hearty response of the hunter.

The agonized father caught at the words as a drowning man at a straw.

“And how can that be done?”

“In a great many ways; _it’s to be done_; that’s settled.”

“I don’t see Teddy with you.”

“He has gone after Ruth, and we are going to follow him in a few hours.”

“God grant you success.”

At this juncture Mrs. McGowan fell into such agonized lamentations that all were compelled to quiet until she could recover. The hunter then said,

“The Injins have all left the island, but there is no telling when they may come back again. So the best thing we can do is, to leave it while we have the chance.”

“But Ruth——”

—“Will be attended to. We are just going to put you into a place of safety, where you can stay until we come back. There’s a considerable slice of meat left, and we don’t ’xpect to be gone more than a day or two, and maybe not as long as that.”

“How are we going to leave?”

“On a raft.”

“And have you it ready?”

“No; but won’t take us long. As you have been setting here a good while. Suppose I take you and Abe to help me and leave young Smith to stand guard.”

This was quite a relief to McGowan and Smith, and the proposal was gladly accepted by them, while Stoddard, the younger, experienced a mournful pleasure in remaining behind and attempting to comfort his mother.

“I have noticed,” said the hunter, as they made their way to the upper portion of the island, “that there is a powerful lot of drift wood lying around here.”

“Can’t we get considerable material from the flat-boat?”

“Sartinly—sartinly; I didn’t think of that.”

“You have no fear of the Indians; have you?”

“I’m purty sartin there ain’t one upon the island, but I think they’ll be back some time afore morning.”

“Then we can’t leave too soon.”

“You’re right this time.”

A few moments later and they reached the island’s margin, where the great dark hulk of the flat-boat was seen grim and silent, as if it had never looked upon the deadly affray between men. Cautioning his companions to remain silent, the hunter made ready to board it. He experienced some apprehension, as he cautiously walked toward it, and he stepped a few feet in the water, placed his hand on the gunwale he paused a moment and listened.

All was still save the soft wash of the current against the side of the flat-boat.

Waiting but a moment, he leaped lightly over and came down upon the deck. Even then he was somewhat apprehensive of danger. It was not until he had traveled every portion of it, that he felt entirely free from a shivering anticipation of a blow from behind. Firmly convinced at length that he was alone upon the unlucky craft, he called his companions to approach. By their united efforts they loosened the cumbersome roof of the cabin, and let it into the water. It was their intention to let it down easily, but its great weight precipitated it into a loud splash that caused each to start with alarm.

“We must be expeditious,” said McGowan, who seemed to be in a constant dread of the return of the Indians. “They’ll begin to suspect something is going on, and there’ll be half a hundred over here before we know it.”

“Don’t be too skeart,” said Napyank, who was ever cool and collected.

All three busied themselves in collecting the driftwood. A large portion of this consisted of goodly-sized trees, which had lain in the sun until thoroughly dried, and was therefore as buoyant as cork. These were secured together by withes until a goodly-sized craft was constructed.

“It will take more wood than we can get to float all of us.”

“What shall we do?”

“We have enough to float the two women. The rest of us must keep in the water and swim along with it.”

To test the structure all three got upon it and floated downward by the island. It bore them well, and gave them considerable confidence in it. At the lower portion it was drawn upon the beach, and Smith remained to watch it, while the others went into the wood in quest of their friends.

The latter were found quiet and patient, waiting for the summons to take them from the island. No time was lost by delay, and it seemed to the silent Abram that his comrades had been gone scarcely five minutes, when they all came silently out of the wood and stood beside him.

The darkness by this time had so increased that the objects were scarcely visible a dozen feet away. This was all the more favorable to the fugitives who fully appreciated the importance of improving this advantage that might not come to them again.

Some delay was occasioned by the timidity of the females who were fearful of trusting themselves upon the raft. It was not until the hunter and McGowan had demonstrated their buoyancy, that they were willing to trust themselves to the current. The rifles of the party were placed upon the raft, and shoving it gently forth the entire party commenced floating down stream.

The four men clung to the raft with their hands, it being scarcely disturbed by the additional weight. McGowan was the only man who was unable to swim. As he was carried off his feet and appreciated that he was really beyond his depth, a shiver of terror ran through him that almost unmanned him. None around him saw it, as he regained his usual self-possession in a few moments.

For the space of twenty minutes the party glided forward in this singular manner without a word being spoken, when suddenly Joe Napyank whispered, “Sh! down! quick!”

The females did not comprehend him, until he repeated his order more energetically than before, and reached over the raft and twitched their clothes. They then reclined upon logs, but their curiosity was sufficient to tempt them to look around, and endeavor to learn the meaning of this sudden command.

Neither of the females nor those who had heard the word of caution, comprehended the cause of it. Young Smith and McGowan especially were puzzled. They peered into the surrounding darkness, but failed to detect anything. Stoddard was on the point of questioning the hunter, when through the deep gloom he discovered a bright point of light, slowly passing over the surface of the water. It had not the twinkle, glimmering glow, such as a lantern or a star would naturally have made; but it burned with a mild steady light similar to that of an ember.

What puzzled the whites was to tell the distance this was away. Stoddard and Smith at first glimpse thought it within thirty feet, but continually after it seemed fully a hundred yards. Regularly forward it continued to glide, until finally it disappeared as if it had been the ember of a torch suddenly thrust beneath the surface of the water.

During all the time not the slightest ripple was heard as explanatory of the singular occurrence. Smith turned toward the hunter,

“What is the meaning of that?”

“Some more of the blasted heathen.”

“How, I don’t understand.”

“In a canoe. Didn’t you see ’em?”

“I saw nothing but the light.”

“One of ’em was smoking—that was what you seen.”

“How far away were they?”

“Just make a guess.”

“A hundred yards I should say.”

“What do you think?” added the hunter addressing McGowan.

“I should say fully that, if not more.”

Joe indulged in a suppressed laugh before he made answer.

“You’re both mistook. I could put out that pipe with a mouthful of tobacco juice.”

“Impossible! they must have been within a dozen feet of us—not a bit more.”

“And they wan’t neither. Didn’t you see the canoe?”

“I never once caught sight of it!”

“I seen it as it went by.”

“What a narrow escape!” exclaimed McGowan, appreciating the great danger which had passed them so closely.

“How did you know they were coming?” inquired Stoddard.

“I hear the noise of their paddles.”

“You have sharper ears than any of us if that is the case.”

“Not at all; I expected maybe there was something up, so I jest let my ear drop below the surface, and then heard the paddles. You could have done the same if you only thought of it.”

“But we did not; which is generally the difference between us. They might have run into us before. I should have seen them.”

“Just let your ears drop under water, and tell me whether you can hear anything,” said the hunter.

Stoddard Smith did as was requested, and detected faintly but distinctly the dip of a paddle. He spoke in considerable excitement,

“They’re coming back again.”

“Not quite, I guess; it is the same ones going away.”

“God grant they may remain away,” exclaimed McGowan, in an under tone, “They have caused us enough agony already.”

At this juncture the hunter admonished silence, and for some time nothing more was said. Soon, however, young Smith observed Joe struggling as though he were endeavoring to change the position of the raft.

“Make for the Kentucky shore,” he whispered. “It is time we began to hunt the land.”

“Do you want to go in at any particular spot?”

“No; you need not work very hard. Shove the thing gently and we’ll land soon enough.”

It was not long before the great wall of overhanging trees was discernible, and simultaneously all three felt their feet touch bottom. The water, however, was of sufficient depth to float the raft to shore, and it was run directly under a morass of overhanging limbs and undergrowth. This accomplished, the entire party landed.

“Now, what is to be done?” queried McGowan.

“Sleep? all of you.”

They were tired and exhausted, and the females making themselves as comfortable as possible, dropped off into a profound slumber. Abram Smith shortly followed them, so that the two adventurers and McGowan were the only ones who remained awake.

“Now,” said the hunter, addressing McGowan, and speaking in a manner that showed he was conscious that all looked to him for advice and direction in this hour of danger, “there is no telling how long we may be gone; so you must not be frightened if you do not see us for two days. I have left you enough meat to last you, if you are saving. There is plenty of game about you, but you must starve to death before you risk a shot. If you can fix up any contrivance to fish you can do so, but you mustn’t build any fire unless it’s during the day time, and then be powerful careful about it.”

“Joe, we are but a short distance off from the settlement; why not float on. We would reach it by morning—would we not?”

“I have been thinking of that. In the first place, you couldn’t reach it by morning; it would take you well into to-morrow. You would be pretty sure to be seen, and a single redskin would have you at his mercy.”

“But we might go into shore, as we have just done, when we found day was breaking.”

“You might and you might not. Stay here until next night after to-morrow night; if we don’t appear by that time, swing loose and do the best you can to reach the settlement; but don’t go before that time.”

“Good bye, and God be with you, and grant that you may be the means of restoring my dear Ruth to me.”

Exchanging farewells, Stoddard, Smith and Napyank, the hunter, plunged into the woods and embarked upon their perilous undertaking.