the daring pioneers and
scouts of the West. Never hesitating to meet death, and courageously
facing peril before which most people would have cowered, they demanded
that that death and that peril should present themselves in tangible
form. In other words, they shrank at receiving no blows, provided the
opportunity was given them of striking effective blows in return.

In trailing an enemy, when the "crossing of the ways" was reached, that
is, where it was impossible to decide from evidence the right path to
take, the question was often decided by a flirt of a hunting-knife;
whichever course the implement indicated when it fell, was accepted as
the finger of Providence, and was followed with as much unflinching
vigor as though the possibility of an error did not exist. In many other
respects was this belief in signs and the awe of the supernatural shown.

The brief, terrified glance of Kenton revealed to him an Ohio flatboat
moving up the river against the current--something which in all his
varied experience he had never seen. The same glance showed a yawning
white spread across the craft, as if it were the upturned wing of some
monster swimming on its side in the water.

Without pausing to reflect that this appearance was the key to the whole
mystery, the brave man gave way to terror, and, throwing discretion to
the winds, dashed into the enclosure among his friends with the
exclamation:

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

His words and manner threw the others into consternation. While it is
certain that some would have shown more coolness, yet nothing is more
contagious than fear, and the panic of one considered the
clearest-headed and most daring of the rangers caused the rest for a
brief while to bid good-by to their senses.

Forgetful of the Shawanoes near at hand, and thinking of nothing but the
new and dreadful peril, the men and women made haste to gather about the
tall figure that advanced almost to the middle of the inclosure before
checking himself.

"What is it, Kenton? For heaven's sake, tell us!"

"Where is it? What does it look like?"

"Keep your head, Simon," counselled Boone, in the babel of exclamations,
"and tell us what it is the ghost of."

"You remember t'other flatboat," said Kenton, partially recovering his
self-mastery, "the one the MacDougalls was on, and they was all killed?"

"Yes, of course, of course," replied several.

"Wal, the ghost of th