t, and
too well versed in woodcraft, to feel over-confidence, or to believe
that it was plain sailing into the haven of absolute safety. If The
Panther had cut off the flight of the fugitives to the block-house, he
was not the one to permit them to flank the danger by means of the
canoe.

The first step necessary, as it seemed to the good man, was to open
communication in some way with Simon Kenton.

"Have you any idea where he is?" he asked of Jethro.

"Yes--I feels purty suah, and it makes me feel bad."

"Where can he be?"

"He fell out dat canoe and got drownded; I feels bad 'cause I neber
oughter left Mr. Kenton alone. He took me 'long to hab care ob him, and
I outer feel dat I am to blame for his drownin'."

"Have no alarm about that. Kenton is too good a swimmer to lose his life
in that way."

"But he mout get de cramps."

"He might, but he didn't. He probably awaited your return as long as it
was safe, and then continued up the river to join his friends. In some
way he lost the canoe to the Shawanoe, who abandoned it to me."

"I should tink dat he would come back to look for de boat."

"The same thought has occurred to me, I hope he has done so, for then we
shall be pretty sure to see him. But, after all, if he set out for that
purpose, he has probably given it up and returned, or he would have
shown himself before."

All this time the flatboat, with its broad spread of sail, was gliding
steadily up the Ohio, keeping as close as was prudent to the Kentucky
shore.

An odd thought had gradually assumed form in the mind of the missionary.
He had noted the headlong panic into which the single Shawanoe was
thrown by the sudden sight of the fantastic craft, and he asked himself
whether, such being the case, The Panther and his warriors could not be
temporarily frightened, and advantage taken of it.

"At any rate it is worth trying," was his conclusion.

But in arriving at this belief, it did not occur to the good man that
the seeming apparition might produce the same effect upon the white men
as upon the Shawanoes.

CHAPTER XXI.

THE PHANTOM OF THE RIVER.

The reader has long since penetrated the cause of the panic into which
Simon Kenton was thrown--a panic as wild, as unreasonable and
uncontrollable as that of the single Shawanoe, some time before, when he
plunged into the forest and fled as if from the pursuit of the evil one
himself.

There were no more superstitious men living than