youth came around the corner and walked to the front door.

"Dat's right," muttered Jethro, when he noted the latch-string hanging
out; "dat makes it discumnecessary for me to kick in de door."

The leathern thong was smartly twitched, the door shoved gently inward,
and, with a slightly quickened throbbing of the heart, Jethro Juggens
stepped across the threshold.

Boxes of varying sizes were broken apart, or scattered here or there
about the lower floor. Near the broad, spacious fireplace were a number
of pots, kettles, a crane, and irons, or other simple utensils, such as
were used by our forefathers. The whole floor was so cluttered up that
care was necessary in moving about the circumscribed space.

The sloping ladder leading to the upper floor was in place, but little,
if anything, had been carried thither. The time, of course, was too
brief to permit it.

Jethro peeped through the windows in turn, but discovered nothing to
cause alarm. Then, it may be said, he did his first sensible act of the
day; he pulled in the latch-string to prevent an enemy stealing upon him
unawares.

A chuckle escaped the youngster when his eye rested upon a box
containing what was left of the bread that had furnished the pioneers
with their last meal. Leaning his rifle against the wall, he clutched a
goodly-sized loaf of the dark, wholesome staff of life, and buried his
big, perfect teeth in it, crunching crust and lighter portion as though
they were the most tender and delicious fruits.

Stretching out upon the hard floor, which served him as well as a bed of
eider-down, he sank into a deep, peaceful slumber, with no thought of
the consequences that were certain to flow from this unprecedented
action upon his part.

By this time the long summer day was drawing to a close. When darkness
finally settled over forest and river, Jethro Juggens was still
sleeping.

CHAPTER VII.

A QUESTION OF OWNERSHIP.

Simon Kenton proceeded on the principle of the greatest good to the
greatest number.

When, with consummate delicacy and skill, he withdrew the canoe from
under the very nose of the sleeping Shawanoe, and noiselessly impelled
it across the open space under the screening undergrowth on the other
side, he did not dare to call to Jethro Juggens to join him, through
fear that the slight noise would rouse the Indian only a few yards off,
sitting with his back against a tree and his head bowed on his chest.

Instead, he s