wall of indistinct blackness masked the Ohio shore.

Somewhere along the bank, which he had left but a brief while before,
nestled the canoe he had set out to find and bring to a point where it
could be used to help deliver the pioneers from their perilous
environment, and, without giving another thought to the impossibility of
success, he grimly resolved to do his utmost, no matter if certain death
was to be the result.

Prudence required him to wait until the moon was obscured. Masses of
vapor were continually passing in front of it, and he had to wait only a
few minutes when the gloom permitted the attempt.

With the same cool promptness he swam toward shore, until the distance
he had in mind was passed. Then carefully measuring the space, he sank
below the surface again. The precaution seemed unnecessary, but such
trifles sometimes decide the question of life and death. Not the
slightest misgiving remained, when he noiselessly raised his head
beneath the overhanging branches, that his departure and return were
suspected by a single Shawanoe.

And yet he was only on the threshold of his enterprise. The real work
now confronted him.

Having come in to shore at a point considerably above where he had left
it, Kenton hoped the canoe for which he was searching was below him. He
therefore decided to continue his hunt in that direction.

With the advantage gained, he required but a short time to do this, the
result being a mistake on his part. He saw nothing of the craft.

He was about to turn again when he looked out upon the river, where the
moon was shining with unobscured light.

He gave a start, and peered through the parted bushes a second time,
and, as he did so, he received the greatest shock of his life. Never
before or after that eventful night did he go through so astounding an
experience.

So terrified indeed was the brave ranger by what he saw, that, forgetful
of the Shawanoes, the imperiled fugitives, and everything except his own
panic, he dashed through the intervening space, and, bursting into the
inclosure where he had left his friends, called in a husky undertone:

"Boys, we're lost! we're lost! There's a ghost coming up the river!"

CHAPTER XVII.

A RUN OF GOOD FORTUNE.

We have now reached a point in our narrative where it once more becomes
necessary to follow the fortunes of Jethro Juggens, whom we were obliged
to leave in anything but a pleasant situation.

After a rather sti