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on his eagle plumes. He remained motionless for a moment, and even at such a distance the dark, changeless face could be discerned. He lifted his hand and shook it menacingly.

ā€œIf ye donā€™t hear from that redskin agin Jeff Lynn donā€™t know nothinā€™,ā€ calm said the old frontiersman.

 

Chapter IV.

As the rafts drifted with the current the voyagers saw the settlers on the landing-place diminish until they had faded from indistinct figures to mere black specks against the green background. Then came the last wave of a white scarf, faintly in the distance, and at length the dark outline of the fort was all that remained to their regretful gaze. Quickly that, too, disappeared behind the green hill, which, with its bold front, forces the river to take a wide turn.

The Ohio, winding in its course between high, wooded bluffs, rolled on and on into the wilderness.

Beautiful as was the ever-changing scenery, rugged gray-faced cliffs on one side contrasting with green-clad hills on the other, there hovered over land and water something more striking than beauty. Above all hung a still atmosphere of calmnessā€”of loneliness.

And this penetrating solitude marred somewhat the pleasure which might have been found in the picturesque scenery, and caused the voyagers, to whom this country was new, to take less interest in the gaily-feathered birds and stealthy animals that were to be seen on the way. By the forms of wild life along the banks of the river, this strange intruder on their peace was regarded with attention. The birds and beasts evinced little fear of the floating rafts. The sandhill crane, stalking along the shore, lifted his long neck as the unfamiliar thing came floating by, and then stood still and silent as a statue until the rafts disappeared from view. Blue-herons feeding along the bars, saw the unusual spectacle, and, uttering surprised ā€œbooms,ā€ they spread wide wings and lumbered away along the shore. The crows circled above the voyagers, cawing in not unfriendly excitement. Smaller birds alighted on the raised poles, and severalā€”a robin, a catbird and a little brown wrenā€”ventured with hesitating boldness to peck at the crumbs the girls threw to them. Deer waded knee-deep in the shallow water, and, lifting their heads, instantly became motionless and absorbed. Occasionally a buffalo appeared on a level stretch of bank, and, tossing his huge head, seemed inclined to resent the coming of this stranger into his domain.

All day the rafts drifted steadily and swiftly down the river, presenting to the little party ever-varying pictures of densely wooded hills, of jutting, broken cliffs with scant evergreen growth; of long reaches of sandy bar that glistened golden in the sunlight, and over all the flight and call of wildfowl, the flitting of woodland songsters, and now and then the whistle and bellow of the horned watchers in the forest.

The intense blue of the vault above began to pale, and low down in the west a few fleecy clouds, gorgeously golden for a fleeting instant, then crimson-crowned for another, shaded and darkened as the setting sun sank behind the hills. Presently the red rays disappeared, a pink glow suffused the heavens, and at last, as gray twilight stole down over the hilltops, the crescent moon peeped above the wooded fringe of the western bluffs.

ā€œHard anā€™ fast she is,ā€ sang out Jeff Lynn, as he fastened the rope to a tree at the head of a small island. ā€œAll off now, andā€™ weā€™ll hevā€™ supper. Tharā€™s a fine spring under yon curly birch, anā€™ I fetched along a leg of deer-meat. Hungry, little ā€˜un?ā€

He had worked hard all day steering the rafts, yet Nell had seen him smiling at her many times during the journey, and he had found time before the early start to arrange for her a comfortable seat. There was now a solicitude in the frontiersmanā€™s voice that touched her.

ā€œI am famished,ā€ she replied, with her bright smile. ā€œI am afraid I could eat a whole deer.ā€

They all climbed the sandy slope, and found themselves on the summit of an oval island, with a pretty glade in the middle surrounded by birches. Bill, the second raftsman, a stolid, silent man, at once swung his axe upon a log of driftwood. Mr. Wells and Jim walked to and fro under the birches, and Kate and Nell sat on the grass watching with great interest the old helmsman as he came u from the river, his brown hands and face shining from the scrubbing he had given them. Soon he had a fire cheerfully blazing, and after laying out the few utensils, he addressed himself to Joe:

ā€œIā€™ll tell ye right here, lad, good venison kin be spoiled by bad cuttinā€™ and cookinā€™. Youā€™re slicinā€™ it too thick. Seeā€”thar! Now salt good, anā€™ keep outen the flame; on the red coals is best.ā€

With a sharpened stick Jeff held the thin slices over the fire for a few moments. Then he laid them aside on some clean white-oak chips Billā€™s axe had provided. The simple meal of meat, bread, and afterward a drink of the cold spring water, was keenly relished by the hungry voyagers. When it had been eaten, Jeff threw a log on the fire and remarked:

ā€œSeeinā€™ as how we wonā€™t be in redskin territory fer awhile yit, we kin hev a fire. Iā€™ll allow yeā€™ll all be chilly and damp from river-mist afore long, so toast yerselves good.ā€

ā€œHow far have we come to-day?ā€ inquired Mr. Wells, his mind always intent on reaching the scene of his cherished undertaking.

ā€œā€˜Bout thirty-odd mile, I reckon. Not much on a trip, thetā€™s sartin, but weā€™ll pick up termorrer. Weā€™ve some quicker water, anā€™ the rafts hev to go separate.ā€

ā€œHow quiet!ā€ exclaimed Kate, suddenly breaking the silence that followed the frontiersmanā€™s answer.

ā€œBeautiful!ā€ impetuously said Nell, looking up at Joe. A quick flash from his gray eyes answered her; he did not speak; indeed he had said little to her since the start, but his glance showed her how glad he was that she felt the sweetness and content of this wild land.

ā€œI was never in a wilderness before,ā€ broke in the earnest voice of the young minister. ā€œI feel an almost overpowering sense of loneliness. I want to get near to you all; I feel lost. Yet it is grand, sublime!ā€

ā€œHere is the promised landā€”the fruitful lifeā€”Nature as it was created by God,ā€ replied the old minister, impressively.

ā€œTell us a story,ā€ said Nell to the old frontiersman, as he once more joined the circle round the fire.

ā€œSo, little ā€˜un, ye want a story?ā€ queried Jeff, taking up a live coal and placing it in the bowl of his pipe. He took off his coon-skin cap and carefully laid it aside. His weather-beaten face beamed in answer to the girlā€™s request. He drew a long and audible pull at his black pipe, and send forth slowly a cloud of white smoke. Deliberately poking the fire with a stick, as if stirring into life dead embers of the past, he sucked again at his pipe, and emitted a great puff of smoke that completely enveloped the grizzled head. From out that white cloud came his drawling voice.

ā€œYeā€™ve seen thet big curly birch over thatā€”thet ā€˜un as bends kind of sorrowful like. Wal, it used to stand straight anā€™ proud. Iā€™ve knowed thet tree all the years Iā€™ve navigated this river, anā€™ it seems natural like to me thet it now droops dyinā€™, fer it shades the grave of as young, anā€™ sweet, anā€™ purty a lass as yerself, Miss Nell. Rivermen called this island Georgeā€™s Island, ā€˜cause Washington onct camped here; but of late years the nameā€™s got changed, anā€™ the men say suthinā€™ like this: ā€˜Weā€™ll try anā€™ make Millyā€™s birch afore sundown,ā€™ jest as Bill and me hev done to-day. Some years agone I was cominā€™ up from Fort Henry, anā€™ had on board my slow old scow a lass named Millyā€”we never learned her other name. She come to me at the fort, anā€™ tells as how her folks hed been killed by Injuns, anā€™ she wanted to git back to Pitt to meet her sweetheart. I was agā€™in her cominā€™ all along, anā€™ fust off I said ā€˜No.ā€ But when I seen tears in her blue eyes, anā€™ she puts her little hand on mine, I jest wilted, anā€™ says to Jim Blair, ā€˜She goes.ā€™ Wal, jest as might hevā€™ been expectedā€”anā€™ fact is I looked fer itā€”we wus tackled by redskins. Somehow, Jim Girty got wind of us hevinā€™ a lass aboard, anā€™ he ketched up with us jest below here. Itā€™s a bad place, called Shawnee Rock, anā€™ Iā€™ll show it to ye termorrer. The renegade, with his red devils, attacked us thar, anā€™ we had a time gittinā€™ away. Milly wus shot. She lived fer awhile, a couple of days, anā€™ all the time wus so patient, anā€™ sweet, anā€™ brave with thet renegadeā€™s bullet in herā€”fer he shot her when he seen he couldnā€™t capture herā€”thet thar wusnā€™t a blame man of us who wouldnā€™t hev died to grant her prayer, which wus that she could live to onct more see her lover.ā€

There was a long silence, during which the old frontiersman sat gazing into the fire with sad eyes.

ā€œWe couldnā€™t do nuthinā€™, anā€™ we buried her thar under thet birch, where she smiled her last sad, sweet smile, anā€™ died. Ever since then the river has been eatnā€™ away at this island. Itā€™s only half as big as it wus onct, anā€™ another flood will take away this sand-bar, these few birchesā€”anā€™ Millyā€™s grave.ā€

The old frontiersmanā€™s story affected all his listeners. The elder minister bowed his head and prayed that no such fate might overtake his nieces. The young minister looked again, as he had many times that day, at Nellā€™s winsome face. The girls cast grave glances at the drooping birch, and their bright tears glistened in the fire-glow. Once more Joeā€™s eyes glinted with that steely flash, and as he gazed out over the wide, darkening expanse of water his face grew cold and rigid.

ā€œIā€™ll allow I might hev told a more cheerful story, anā€™ Iā€™ll do so next time; but I wanted ye all, particular the lasses, to know somethinā€™ of the kind of country yeā€™re goinā€™ into. The frontier needs women; but jist yit it deals hard with them. Anā€™ Jim Girty, with more of his kind, ainā€™t dead yit.ā€

ā€œWhy donā€™t some one kill him?ā€ was Joeā€™s sharp question.

ā€œEasier said than done, lad. Jim Girty is a white traitor, but heā€™s a cunninā€™ anā€™ fierce redskin in his ways anā€™ life. He knows the woods as a crow does, anā€™ keeps outer sight ā€˜cept when heā€™s least expected. Then agā€™in, heā€™s got Simon Girty, his brother, anā€™ almost the whole redskin tribe behind him. Injuns stick close to a white man that has turned agā€™inst his own people, anā€™ Jim Girty hainā€™t ever been ketched. Howsumever, I heard last trip thet heā€™d been tryinā€™ some of his tricks round Fort Henry, anā€™ thet Wetzel is on his trail. Wal, if itā€™s so thet Lew Wetzel is arter him, I wouldnā€™t give a pinch oā€™ powder fer the white-redskinā€™s chances of a long life.ā€

No one spoke, and Jeff, after knocking the ashes from his pipe, went down to the raft, returning shortly afterward with his blanket. This he laid down and rolled himself in it. Presently from under his coon-skin cap came the words:

ā€œWal, Iā€™ve turned in, anā€™ I advise ye all to do the same.ā€

All save Joe and Nell acted on Jeffā€™s suggestion. For a long time the young couple sat close together on the bank, gazing at the moonlight on the river.

The night was perfect. A cool wind fanned the dying embers of the fire

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