n that hope, dearest?"

"George," said Agnes, when they had walked a little further in silence,
"there is one prospect which causes me some discomfort."

"And what is that?"

"Of all our people being cooped up in the block-house for weeks, and
perhaps months, until the trouble with the Indians is over. We stopped
there the other day when we were coming down the river. It is a large,
roomy structure, but there is nothing beside the single building. A good
many men make their homes there at different times, and though they are
all as kind as they can be, it will be anything but pleasant when your
folks and ours are added to them."

"I don't wonder that you feel thus. The same thought has occurred to me
and Kenton, and I guess every one else. Some other arrangement will have
to be made. Captain Bushwick will have several strong cabins put up, if
it looks as though you will have to stay more than a few days, or he may
do better than that."

"How?"

"Send us all to Boonesboro. That's where the great Daniel Boone, that's
helping us just now, makes his home. It was named for him. It is a
regular stockade, with a number of cabins inside, and abundant room for
twenty families or more."

"How far off is it?"

"I am not sure, but less than fifty miles."

"Why not go there at once, without stopping at the block-house?"

"The trouble is that, if it would be safe to make the journey there now,
it would be just as safe to stay in our own house at the clearing. The
route leads through one of the most dangerous regions in Kentucky."

"If that is the case, how can we reach it from the block-house?"

"It will have to be done by awaiting some favorable chance; that chance,
as you know, isn't now, but it may come in a short time. Kenton or
Boone, or some of their men, will be quick to learn it."

Agnes was about to reply, when one of the rangers, who had wandered
somewhat ahead or to one side, emitted a cry that must have penetrated a
goodly part of a mile. His terrified friends stopped short, grasped
their rifles more tightly, and stared wonderingly at the man, who was
acting like a crazy person.

He had flung his gun aside, and caught up a heavy stick, with which he
was threshing something on the ground.

It required hardly a second glance from those who ran toward him to
recognize the writhing object as an immense rattlesnake. The man seemed
to be in a frenzy, and continued belaboring the reptile even after all
saw it