CHAPTER V

FRIENDS IN TIME OF NEED

THERE was really nothing that could be done.

In a choice between two evils, Bob Armstrong could always be depended on to take that which seemed the less. To go on down the flood was a dreadful outlook; and almost anything was to be preferred to facing the unknown perils of the river, especially in the pitch darkness that prevailed.

The sound of the paddles drew constantly nearer. Then they heard voices, as if those in the canoe were asking each other whence it could be that they had heard that last shout for help.

To the astonishment of the floating boys the words came in English, though evidently one of the speakers was an Indian who had apparently learned the tongue of the palefaces.

"Oh! it's Pat O'Mara, I do believe!" exclaimed Sandy, in his amazement speaking loud enough for his voice to carry some distance away; for immediately, even before Bob could add any words of his own to the declaration, there came a hail out of the gloom.

"Avast there! Be ye the Arrmstrong byes I'm afther hearin' out on this roarin', tearin' flood this night?"

"Yes, yes, that's who it is, Pat; and precious glad to hear the sound of your voice, because we need help the worst way!" cried Sandy, always impulsive.

"All right, we'll be wid yees in a jiffy, depind on it," came the answer from a point close at hand. "Give us another few digs at the paddle, chief, an', by the same token, we'll soon be alongside, so we will."

A minute later the anxious boys began to detect some moving object, as they strained their eyes to see. Then this turned out to be a long canoe, in which two persons were sitting, the one in the stern using a paddle with that grace and dexterity which only an Indian could exhibit, just as Bob had wisely said.

Sandy craned his head forward to see better through the darkness. Doubtless there must have been something familiar about the movements of this paddler, for he certainly did not have enough light to recognize his features, or even the feather that adorned his scalplock.

"Surely that must be Blue Jacket!" he ejaculated, with a thrill of delight, as well as surprise noticeable in his quivering voice.

"Uh! that so, Sandy," came in a voice he knew almost as well as he did that of his brother.

"What luck!" cried Sandy. "To think that such good friends should happen to be on the river this night of all times, when we are in such sore need."

Perhaps, had Bob Armstrong been asked his opinion, he might have declared that it was something much higher than mere luck that brought about such a happy conclusion to their adventure. Bob was a much more serious fellow than his younger brother, and imbibed some of the sentiments that influenced his gentle mother. To him there was something especially Providential in this coming of help when the two boys were in so great need, just as there had been in the falling of the dead tree just as the panthers were about to attack them.

Quickly the canoe worked up alongside the log, to which both the Irish trapper and his native companion fastened a firm grip.

"Come aboord, and be sinsible," said Pat O'Mara, who was one of the oldest friends the Armstrong family had; and whom they had known away back in Old Virginia, before the thought of daring the perils of the unknown wilderness had ever entered David Armstrong's mind. "Sure, 'tis a mighty poor sort av a craft ye do be havin', if I might make so bowld."

"But it was better than nothing," said Sandy, as he carefully placed his musket in the canoe before even thinking of attempting to get aboard himself.

Bob did not make a single move until he had seen his brother safely over the side. Indeed, to judge from his actions, one might be inclined to think that he even kept himself in readiness to clutch Sandy, should the other manage to slide down the side of the log into the water, instead of gaining a lodgment in the boat. Then Bob copied the other's actions, his precious gun being first made secure before he would think of himself.

It was rather a ticklish business leaving the log, and entering the canoe that, being made of birch bark, was so light in build that it careened under the passage of the boys, and might have tipped over had not both Pat and the young Shawanee brave leaned far to the opposite side while the embarkation was taking place.

"Good-bye, old log!" said Sandy, now in an exultant frame of mind that contrasted strangely with his recent gloomy spirits. "We hope you will have a good voyage down to the great Mississippi. Tell them that, perchance, the Armstrong boys will be navigating that way to see some of the wonders they have so long been hearing about. You were a pretty fair kind of a log, though we are not sorry to part with you."

Already was the paddle, in the expert hands of Blue Jacket, busily employed in sending the craft toward the southern shore of the swollen river. Pat O'Mara had his share of curiosity, and he was not the one to keep silent when desirous of knowing the true facts.

"Sure, 'tis a quare thing to be findin' the two av yees adrift on a tree out on this high water," he started to say; "and, by the same token, if yees have no objection, 'tis mesilf wud like to know how the same came about."

"That is easy enough to tell, Pat," burst out Sandy. "Of course, you mustn't think we started from the shore, to cross over on an old log. It was just an accident, and that's all. My paddle broke under the strain; and, when this log came whirling down on our boat, Bob alone could not get it out of the way. So it was upset, and we were lucky enough to scramble aboard, guns and all."

The Irish trapper was loud in his exclamations of wonder.

"It do bate iverything how ye two lads always manage to chate the ould Reaper whin he thinks he has ye in the hollow av his hand," he declared. "I warrant ye that nine out av tin min would have at laste taken a dip in the water afore crawling aboord the log; and, be the powers, ye do not same to be wit at all, at all."

"We were wondering how we could manage to get ashore, so as to head for home," Sandy went on to say, "when Bob thought of a way. Just when we heard your answer to our last shout we were about to fasten our guns and clothing to the log, slip overboard, and, by swimming, push it toward the shore."

"A cliver ijee, by me troth," remarked Pat, who was a great admirer of both young pioneers; of Bob on account of his steady ways and quick mind in emergencies, and of Sandy because he had a winning, sunny disposition, which appealed especially to the genial, roving Irish trapper. "But, afther all, 'tis just as will that Blue Jacket and mesilf came upon the sane at the time we did, since 'tis a wet back ye'd be havin', not to spake of many miles more to thramp back home. And 'tis also will that ye are off the river before this same night is many hours older."

Bob noticed that there was a peculiar significance to these last words of their old friend, who had been many times tried, and found as true as steel.

"What brings you and Blue Jacket here, and on your way to our cabin, as I reckon you are from the way you head across the river?" he asked, desirous of drawing the other out, and learning what new peril now threatened the little settlement on the southern bank of the Ohio.

More than once had Pat brought news of the coming of Indians on the warpath, so that the pioneers had learned to look upon him as their best guardian. As he was forever roaming the great forests, sometimes in the company of such noted men as Daniel Boone, Simon Kenton or Harrod the surveyor, Pat was in a position to pick up intelligence that could be obtained by no one else. (Note 4.)

And so Bob wondered whether it could be something of this character that was now causing him to hasten to the relief of the struggling settlement.

"Sure, 'twas by sheer accident that we came togither," the trapper observed, as he bent his supple body quickly to one side, so as to better balance the frail canoe, which at that instant was being buffeted about in a swirl of waters, not unlike a miniature whirlpool. "An', whin I larned that the chief was aven thin on his way to warrn the white settlers as fast as he could go, I made up me mind to accompany him. So that's how it happens we wor abroad on the river jist at the same time ye naded hilp so bad. Troth, as Sandy jist said, 'twas a lucky thing all around."

"But, Pat," Bob continued, "of what danger was Blue Jacket about to warn our people? Have the Indians again taken to the warpath, after their professions of peace, and after saying that the hatchet was buried ever so deep?"

"Sure, there be always danger av that same," remarked the other, grimly; "but, on this occasion, 'tis a peril av another color intirely. The flood is bearin' down upon yees like a race horse, and, befoor the dawn av another day, it may be the risin' water wull be afther swapin' away some av the cabins in the settlement!"

"Oh! but how could Blue Jacket learn about that, when it must be many miles up the river, and coming much faster than any Indian could run?" demanded Sandy.

"Ye must know," went on the Irish trapper, impressively, "that these rid hathen have a way av communicatin' news by manes av smoke signals in the day time, and fires at night. From hill to hill, many miles away, they sind these smokes; and, so I've been towld at laist, the missage can be carried as much as a hundred miles in less time than it wud take a horse to run tin."

"Yes, that is something I knew about, but had forgotten," admitted Sandy.

"And this flood, does it come from the last rain, or has there been what I heard my father call a cloud-burst?" asked Bob, anxiously; for his thoughts were upon the little community some miles up the river, which had already grappled with more perils than the settlers had ever dreamed could be met with in this new country.

"That I do not chanct to know, me bye," replied Pat. "'Tis enough to learn that the flood is comin' tearin' along down the river, and that the water will rise in a way niver known before. The Injuns are wild with alarrm. Their ould medicine-min do be on the rampage, and kape tillin' thim they do be sufferin' from the anger av the Great Spirit, becase av their allowin' the white trispassers till remain on the sacred land that was given till their ancestors long years ago. It all manes hapes av trouble for the pioneers, from Boonesborough till Fort Washington, and all the way along the Ohio."

"I can see the shore again," called out Sandy at this moment; for, while he had been listening with deep anxiety to what the trapper said, at the same time his keen young eyes had been on the watch to detect the first signs of land ahead.

A minute later, and Sandy again broke out with an exclamation, and this time there was a note of wonder, not unmixed with anxiety, in his voice.

"Look! there is a fire burning on the shore below, and just about where we will come to the land!" he cried out.

"And I can see one or two white men beside it; yes, with an Indian also," added Bob, who had as sharp vision as his brother.

"And they must hear us talking, for they have jumped to their feet, and seem to be looking this way. Can it be some of our friends from above, brother?" asked the younger boy, eagerly.

"I do not think so," Bob answered. "They are not in the broad firelight now; but, from the glimpse I had, I took them to be woodrangers like Pat here, and some of the others we know."

"Oh! perhaps, then, it may be Boone and Kenton themselves," remarked Sandy, who had secretly always admired the forest ranger, Kenton, and aspired to follow in the footsteps of the daring young man, when he grew older.

"Well, we shall soon know," Bob went on, "for Blue Jacket is heading straight in to that point where they have built their fire, as though he means to land on the lower side, where the current does not run so fiercely."

Already they were in less turbulent waters, for, near the shore, the river did not attain anything like the swiftness that marked the middle of the stream. Under the skillful guidance of the sturdy young Shawanee brave, whose name, although not very well known just then, was fated later on to be on the lips of every settler who had built a cabin in the wilderness along the Ohio, the canoe presently came against the shore.

Sandy, as usual, was the first to jump on to the bank; but he was careful to take his gun along with him. The Irish trapper quickly reached his side, and then came Bob, and the dusky Blue Jacket, who certainly could never be accused of being a talkative fellow, though capable of expressing himself freely on occasion.

As if instinctively they allowed the young Shawanee to lead the way toward the burning campfire, because the presence of an Indian would seem to indicate that he might be better able to conduct the intercourse with the strangers; for already Bob and Sandy had discovered that the two white men were totally unknown to them. Besides, since it was Blue Jacket's canoe, he seemed to be conducting the expedition to the settlement, the others having just been taken on as he happened to come across them.

But Bob Armstrong felt a new uneasiness creep over him when he heard the Irish trapper mutter something half under his breath, and caught the one significant word:

"Traitor!"