did. But, let me tell you, I'm glad that thunder doesn't growl so much

now. When that loud crash came I got a bad scare, because I thought how lightning likes to pick out a big oak like this, and splinter it from top to bottom."

"You wouldn't have known what hurt you, if it had struck this tree; and there's a little satisfaction in that, Roger. But, when I get my gun loaded, I mean to climb up, and take an observation."

"How lucky that we've got that rope to help out," remarked Roger; "for the inside of this old tree feels as smooth as anything, because the bear has clawed his way up and down so many times. We would have had a hard job getting up, only for that."

"Oh! there are ways, if you only bother thinking them out," observed the other boy. "With two of us down here, one could climb on the shoulders of the other and, after he got out, help his comrade with his hands. Oh! you're off, are you? I wondered if you would wait, and let me go first for a change. But, now that you're half-way up, keep right on, and tell me how things look to you. Be careful how you poke your head out, because, after all, the bear might be waiting for us."

Roger had little difficulty in reaching the opening. He was so nimble that he could climb any tree like a monkey; but, remembering the warning of his cousin, he tried to take an observation before thrusting his head out.

"All clear, here, Dick!" he called, joyfully; "you gave him a scare, let me tell you--chances are he's running yet. And better still, the clouds have broken across the river, for, would you believe it, the sun's peeping out! Better come up, as the rain's stopped now."

That was good news for the boy in the hollow tree, and he lost no time in following his companion. Presently both were perched upon the wet limbs, looking around.

"You wounded the bear, Dick, for, see, here are blood marks on the bark," cried Roger, pointing as he spoke.

"Which I am sorry for," was the reply, "because I never like to hurt an animal unless I want him for food. And we couldn't think of trying to follow the trail of the bear at this late hour. Mother might be worried if we didn't come home by dark, after such a sudden storm. So let's head back to the boat, and, if the waves have gone down enough, we'll push out for the other bank."

"Whew! did you ever see such big bear tracks, Dick?" exclaimed Roger, as he bent down to examine the imprints. "The chances are, now, we'll never set eyes on anything to beat that in all our lives again;" but, when the boy made that statement, and believed what he was saying, too, he could not possibly foresee the time when he and his cousin would look upon the distant Rocky Mountains, just then almost unknown to white men, and view that greatest of all bears, the terrible grizzly of the foothills. Yet that experience was before them, and nearer than any one could dream.

"Come on, we had better be in a hurry, Roger," the other called out; "because already it is getting pretty close to sunset, and with so many clouds overhead, darkness is apt to come along soon afterwards. And you know it isn't safe upon the big river after night sets in."

They were quickly at the little cove where the dugout had been left, and, much to their satisfaction, they found everything all right.

"I'm glad that bear didn't get a scent of our fish while he was hurrying home," Dick remarked.

"That's so," the other boy added, "because we happen to know how hungry they are for fish, lots of times. Didn't we see one scoop a fish out with his paw, once, as he squatted on a log that ran down into the water? But are we going to risk it out there on the river just yet, Dick?"

"It looks pretty rough, I declare; but the waves are going down every minute, so we had better wait a while. Given half an hour, and we ought to be able to cross. The longer we can hold off, the easier our passage will be."

"I suppose it's no use throwing out a line again?" mused Roger, whose passion for fishing could never be wholly satisfied.

"Not after such a heavy rain, and with the river rising as it is, Roger. You know enough about fish to remember that they never bite after a rain that washes all sorts of feed into the river, and muddies the water so. Here, we can sit down on this rock, and talk a little."

"Yes, and Dick, I know that you have something on your mind that's been worrying you all day. More than once I've come near asking what ailed you, and then I held my tongue for fear I might offend. And at our house I notice that father and mother seem worried, too, for they often stop talking when I come in, and look confused, as if they didn't want me to know what was wrong. Now, if you know, tell me. We're pretty well grown, and ought to take some of the burdens on our shoulders, it seems to me."

"Well spoken, Roger, and shake hands with me on that!" exclaimed the older lad, while his sober face lighted up with a mingling of regard for his cousin, and delight over hearing these words spring from his heart. "Yes, you are right, we _are_ old enough to be taken into the councils of our parents; and my father has thought the same, for he told me the nature of the gloom that seems to be hanging over the whole little Armstrong settlement of late."

"And will you tell me, Dick?" demanded the other, eagerly, while a look akin to resolution flashed over his handsome face. Roger was his father in his younger years over again; a real "chip of the old block," gentle-hearted, brave, and with only the fault of recklessness to mar his good record.

Sandy Armstrong in early life had taken as his model that sterling young borderer known in the history of the "dark and bloody ground," Kentucky, as Daniel Boone's most beloved helper, Simon Kenton; and, as their natures were very much alike, the reason for his admiration had always been very evident.

"Yes," Dick went on to say, bravely, "because my father said he thought both of us should know; not that he had any idea we could do anything to help; but, if the blow fell, we might be better prepared to stand it."

"Blow fell!" repeated the other, in sheer astonishment, while his ruddy face lost a little of its color; "why, what can you mean, Dick? Are the Indians going on the warpath; or has that precious wampum belt been lost again, as father told me once happened when he was a boy?"[4]

"No, it is nothing like that, Roger," replied the other. "It concerns the title to the property our parents bought years ago, and which has been our home all of our lives, up to now."

"Why, you surprise me, Dick! They bought it, I have heard, from the French traders who owned the section across the river, the pick of the land above the St. Louis settlement."

"Yes, that is a fact, Roger; but it seems that there is some sort of defect in the title, and an old French trader, François Lascelles by name, with his grown son, Alexis, has threatened to turn us out of our homes by the first of next year, unless we make a new settlement with him, and purchase the ground for a second time. It seems, however, that there is just one way by which the land may be saved."

"Oh! I am glad to hear that; and if there is anything that I can do, only tell me, and see how quickly I will do it. But it would nearly kill my mother to lose the farm now, because she loves the place so much. Now, tell me what that one thing is."

"Listen. It seems that there is a man whose signature to certain papers is necessary in order to keep this rascal of a Frenchman from seizing the property by the first of next year. His name is Jasper Williams, and he is a hunter and scout very much like Daniel Boone, the friend of our parents. Both your father and mine have been to great trouble trying to locate this man, and, Roger, think of the bitter disappointment that overwhelmed them upon discovering a few days ago that he is far away in the unknown West, but expects to join the Lewis and Clark exploration party that started out many weeks ago, bound to cross prairies and mountains, and rivers and lakes if necessary, until they finally set eyes on the Pacific Ocean, which we know lies hundreds, perhaps thousands, of miles away from the Mississippi."

Roger shook his head, as if overwhelmed with sadness.

"Why, they may not be back again for two years, even if they escape the thousand and one perils they must encounter from wild beasts, hostile Sioux and Blackfeet Indians, snow pitfalls in the mountains, starvation on the deserts, and all sorts of other things. Oh! Dick, what a cruel thing this is. And it could all be changed, you say, if only that one man's signature might be obtained to a certain paper?"

"Yes, so father tells me. And, Roger, do you know what I have been thinking of all this day, while we sat, and fished, and watched the coming of the storm?"

His impulsive cousin glanced up at him quickly, an eager glow in his eyes and a set look on his young face.

"Dick, were you thinking that _we_ might start out, and try to overtake that expedition which President Jefferson has sent to see what our new territory between the river and the ocean is like? (Note 2.) Tell me, would such an idea ever enter the head of so cautious a fellow as Dick Armstrong when it might seem to be only fit for a madcap like myself?"

"Ah! yes! but, Roger, think what the signing of that paper would mean to all those we love! Remember that, unless something is done, we may lose our homes before another spring, and our parents must start all over again. And, if you stop and think, did not our fathers once make almost as dangerous a journey into the unknown country of the Iroquois Indians, at the time our Aunt Kate, their sister, was stolen by a young chief?"

"Yes, yes, every word you say is true, Dick; but the daring of it all staggers me. Do not think for a second that I will hold back, if only we can gain the consent of our parents to making the trial. Think of starting out into that wonderful unknown wilderness, where white men have never until now placed a foot, following in the track of Captain Lewis and Captain Clark, with their little band of soldiers and scouts, not more than forty souls, all told. Oh! let us get back across the river right away, Dick, because I want to beg my father to let me go; and get grandfather to back us up, for he says we are chips of the old blocks, and able to hold our own anywhere."

"Well, the wind has fallen enough, I think, for us to make the trial; so jump into the dugout, and we'll paddle for the other shore, Roger."

FOOTNOTE:

[4] See "The Pioneer Boys of the Mississippi."