CHAPTER XXVI

THE DRIFTING DUGOUT

"I THINK we had better stop and take a little breathing spell, Sandy."

"Nothing would please me better, Bob. This meat pack is very heavy, and it seems to me as if the air had grown much warmer. Summer has come, down here, surely. Oh! how good it feels to throw that burden down, and be able to stretch my arms, which ache as if they had a cramp."

"But all the same, Sandy, we ought to be glad that we have been able to knock over that fine buck, from which all this fresh venison comes. And we are not greedy in carrying such big loads, for there are many hungry mouths to fill, with four families to think of. Let us rest here, then, and be refreshed for another spell of walking."

It was well on in the afternoon when Bob and Sandy, on the way home from their hunt, exchanged these remarks. Each had a large pack on his back, for, shortly after noon, they had come across a deer, and succeeded in killing the animal at the first shot.

"How far below the camp do you think we are?" Sandy presently asked, as he lay there taking his ease, with his hands under his head.

"I hardly know," replied Bob, "but it must be several miles. My idea was to do the same as we used to up on the Ohio--strike for the river first of all, and try to make our way back by keeping to the open stretch of shore."

"Well, we are already close to the river, though perhaps you didn't know it when you said we had better take a rest. See, you can look out on the water right here," and Sandy pointed as he spoke.

"Sure enough, it is as you say, and that makes it easier," Bob replied. "I thought that I had my bearings all right; but, then, we know so little of this country, and none at all about the river; so there is always a chance we might miss seeing it for a long time. So you understand I'm glad enough to look out and see that running water."

"This is a fine big buck we got," remarked Sandy, reflectively.

"Yes, and as large as any I've ever seen," Bob added.

"I don't know how it is," Sandy continued, with a faint smile; "but something in me just seems to take a savage pleasure in getting after _big_ game. Somehow I don't care for shooting partridges or ducks any more. Even a deer seems tame to me. If it is a big bear, a panther or a buffalo I think I'm in great luck. Some day--" and there he came to a sudden stop.

"Well, what about some day?" demanded the other, turning to look at him.

Sandy gave a reckless little chuckle, and then went on:

"Oh! I suppose you'll just laugh at me, and say that I'm foolish to let myself dream in that way; but it's another of Pat's stories that has been setting me to thinking, and wondering whether I'll ever have the chance to shoot one of those tremendous beasts."

"What is it now, a tiger, a lion or an elephant?" asked Bob, scornfully.

"Oh! no," replied Sandy, promptly; "nothing that can be found outside of this country and Canada. Pat has seen them many times, and even been gored by a great bull moose. You can see the scar on his cheek even now, where he had a bad wound, by which he almost bled to death."

"And you mean to go away up into Canada to hunt for one of these moose, as they call them?" demanded the older brother, incredulously.

"Well, hardly that," answered Sandy, with a little hesitation. "You see, Pat, he says he believes moose can be found up that other big river that flows into the Mississippi above the Ohio. And some day, it may not be for years though, I hope to see with my own eyes whether that is true."

"We have taken some long journeys, but that would exceed them all," remarked Bob, thoughtfully; and Sandy chuckled as he realized that, after all, his prudent brother had determined that, if ever that trip were undertaken, he would never allow Sandy to go alone.

"I feel rested already," remarked Sandy, sitting up; "and besides, I'm anxious to get back to see how things look, with mother sitting there beside a fire in our new cabin. It will feel so good to have our own roof over our heads again. Oh! Bob, what is that floating past yonder? I do declare, it looks like a boat!"

The two sprang to their feet and stared.

"Yes, you are right, Sandy, it is a boat; and yet, for the life of me, I fail to see a living soul in it. There is no paddle flashing in the sunlight. It seems to be deserted. Come, let us leave our meat here, and run to the shore, so we can see better."

Nothing loath, Sandy trotted along at the heels of his brother, and in the course of a minute or so they had gained the bank of the river. It happened that, when Sandy first discovered the drifting object, it had caught in an eddy that kept holding it back, so that although some little time had elapsed, the object of their scrutiny was still opposite to them.

To discover an empty dugout on the river was a strange event, indeed. The Armstrong boys could not remember ever having such a thing happen before in all their experience; and it was no wonder then that they stared and rubbed their eyes as if they could hardly believe what they saw.

"Can it be a sly trick on the part of Indians to keep our attention fastened on that boat while they slip up behind us?" Sandy asked, turning his head to look around him at the grim forest.

"But they would not know we were coming along here," interposed Bob; "and so, you see, how could they think to lay a plan like that? No, we need feel no fears on that score. And then again, you know, Sandy, our own people are only a short two miles or so above here. If the river were straight I believe we could see them even now."

"But, Bob, where could that boat have come from? I've a good notion to strip and swim out after it. We could make good use of another dugout like ours. And it is just the same kind of a boat, too, don't you think?"

"I was thinking something even more than that, Sandy," returned Bob.

"What?" demanded the other, still eying the strange craft that bobbed and danced in the eddying currents of the river, as though tantalizing them, before once more starting on down the great stream.

"It might be our own boat!" suggested Bob.

"Oh! how could that be?" asked the other, catching his breath, and turning a troubled face toward his brother. "They are always so particular to keep it tied fast to the flatboat, you remember. Why, no one thinks of using it these days, for we have all been too busy working, to think of fishing, or trying for a few ducks."

"You forget that Kate has paddled around in it a good deal of late!" said Bob, slowly.

Sandy became excited at once, just as his brother had expected would be the case.

"Oh! do you mean to say that something might have happened to Kate?" he asked, a tremor in his voice, for the boys were very fond of their little sister.

"I do not know; I hope not, surely," muttered Bob, looking again out toward the drifting boat; "but, if that is our boat, you can see, Sandy, how strange that it should be afloat there, and no one in it to use the paddle."

Sandy laid his gun quietly on the ground.

"Don't say another word against it, Bob," he remarked grimly, as he started to remove some of his garments.

"Be careful, is all I ask you, Sandy," Bob replied. "They tell us the currents of the Mississippi are treacherous, and that they often clutch a swimmer as if they had many hands. If the boat starts down-stream again, as I fancy may be the case, I will follow along the shore, bearing both guns."

Sandy hastened to divest himself of all superfluous clothing, at the same time keeping one eye on the strange boat.

He was a splendid swimmer; indeed, the boy had ever been like a duck in the water, so that Bob felt little fear about his ability to reach the boat, and tow it ashore, unless some unexpected development occurred.

"Keep out of range as you draw closer, Sandy," he remarked.

"What makes you say that, Bob?" demanded the other. "It sounds as if you expected to have to use your gun. Come, do you think Indians might be lying in the bottom of the boat, ready to rise up and seize a swimmer, if he came close; or fill him full of arrows?"

"Here is a tree that I can easily climb," remarked Bob. "Wait a minute while I get up among the branches. Perhaps I can tell then if enemies are crouching in that boat. Don't start till I come back, Sandy."

He climbed like a monkey, and was quickly in a position where he could take a partial view of the strange craft's interior.

But Bob did not stay there long. Whatever it was he saw, he dropped down again to the ground much faster than he had climbed aloft.

"Did you see any Indians?" asked Sandy, now ready to plunge into the water.

"No, I cannot say that I did," came the reply, in a perplexed tone. "But there is _something_ lying in the bottom of that boat. It is not a bundle, either, for I plainly saw it move."

Sandy waited for no more.

"Then I'm going out and see for myself!" he declared, as though some half-formed fear had commenced to assail him.

Stepping into the water, he hurried to reach a point where it arose to his waist. Then he threw himself forward, and began to strike out with overhand strokes that had many times carried him ahead of all competitors in the water races the boys of the settlement used to have, away back in Virginia, before the Armstrongs had even thought of emigrating across the mountains to the new country along the Ohio.

Bob picked up Sandy's gun, and such parts of his clothing as he had discarded. Then he started to walk down the shore, because he saw that the boat had finally succeeded in extricating itself from the clutch of the cross eddies, and was once more moving southward with the steady current of the river.

And meanwhile Sandy was breasting the stream with powerful strokes, headed so as to intercept the floating boat when it came along; and with a new and terrible fear clutching at his heart.