e up for the burrs an'
briers an' sharp stones she had to foot it over. Thank God she died
white!"

"Amen to that!"

After another silence he asked:

"You 'low she's with daddy an' mammy?"

"I do."

"That's mighty comfortin' to figger on," he slowly mused. "Much like a
younker gittin' mighty tired an' goin' back home to rest. Daddy an' mammy
will do a heap to make it up to her for what she had to go through. Yes, I
can count on 'em, even if the Almighty happened to be too busy to notice
her when she first crossed the border."

Dear lad! He meant no irreverence.

The night was calm and sounds carried easily. We had passed beyond where
we could hear the men singing and merry-making in camp, but the uneasy
movements of a turkey and the stealthy retreat of a deer seemed very close
at hand. The soft pad-pad of a woods cat approached within a few feet
before the creature caught the scent, and the retreat was marked by a
series of crashings through the undergrowth.

After a while we rose and continued up the river.

"No Injuns along here," murmured Cousin.

We reached Old Town Creek and crossed it without discovering any signs of
the enemy; nor were we looking for anything more serious than a stray
scout or two. We went nearly two miles above the creek and turned back
after deciding we would separate at the creek, he taking the hills route
and I following the river. We reached the creek and he was about to leave
me when we both heard a new note, a splashing noise, very faint. Our hands
met in a mutual desire to grab an arm and enforce attention.

"No fish made it," I whispered.

"No fish," he agreed. "There!"

The splashing came from across the several hundred yards of the Ohio's
deep and silent current. It was repeated until it became almost
continuous, and it gradually grew louder.

"Rafts!" shrilly whispered Cousin.

"They are paddling fast."

"No! But there are many rafts," he corrected.

We retreated up-stream a short distance and concealed ourselves in a deep
growth. To the sound of poles and paddles was added the murmuring of
guttural voices. Then for a climax a raft struck against the bank and a
low voice speaking Shawnee gave some sharp orders.

"One!" counted Cousin.

As he spoke another raft took the shore, and then they grounded so rapidly
that it was impossible to count them. Orders were given, and the Indians
worked back from the river and proceeded to make a night-camp. The landing
had