the ranger's mind regarding the canoe. He drew it
from the water and upon the dry land, his paddle and rifle lying inside,
and then, with no little labor, dragged it among the trees to the other
side of the open space, where it was launched again, uninjured by its
rough experience.

"I hope there ain't many such places," he muttered, as he took the
paddle in hand; "'cause if there is, this old boat will suffer."

But night was closing in, and, with the coming of darkness, the need of
such extreme caution would pass. The wind too, was now blowing so
strongly up the river that it was not necessary to use the extreme
caution against making any noise while pushing his way along the bank.

To Kenton's disgust, he had gone a little more than a hundred yards
further when he struck another of the very places he had in mind. It was
twice as broad as the one he had flanked a few minutes before, and did
not offer the slightest concealment.

He checked the canoe, with the nose on the edge of the opening, and took
several minutes to look over the ground and decide upon the best course
to follow.

To most persons it must seem like an excess of caution for Kenton to
hesitate to propel his boat across this open space when it confronted
him. That there was any dusky foe crouching in the woods, with his eyes
fixed upon that "clearing" in the water and watching for the appearance
of Kenton, was a piece of fine-spun theorizing that entered the realms
of the absurd. It was preposterous to suppose anything of the kind.
Simon Kenton was too much of a veteran in woodcraft to make such
preposterous mistakes.

But the unwelcome truth which stared him in the face was that he had
been followed from the clearing, and the signal from the other side of
the river, resembling the call of a crow, he believed referred to him.
It looked as if there was an understanding between the Shawanoe scouts
on the Ohio and those on the Kentucky side of the river.

As the matter stood, however, Kenton decided not to drag the canoe among
the trees again. In the gathering darkness he was liable to injure it
beyond repair, and in a brief while the gloom itself would afford him
the screen he needed.

The wind stirred the water into wrinkles and wavelets along the shore,
which rippled against the canoe and the end of the paddle when held
motionless. Further out in the river the disturbance was so marked that
it would have caused some annoyance even to a strong s