o the water, and, pushing his raft before him,
was gone like a wraith. He did not look back, knowing that for the
present he must watch in front if he made the perilous passage. The
boats belonging to the army were ranged toward the shore, but he was
soon beyond them. Then he turned toward the bank, intending to keep deep
in its shadows, and also in the shade of the overhanging boughs.

The Indians had no fleet, but beyond a doubt they were well provided
with canoes which would cruise on both rivers beyond the range of rifle
shot, and keep a vigilant watch for messengers from either Clark or
Logan. Hence Henry moved very slowly for a while, eagerly searching the
darkness for any sign of his vigilant foe. He rested one arm upon his
little raft, and with the other he wielded a small paddle which sent him
along easily.

As it nears Cincinnati the Ohio narrows and deepens, and the banks rise
more abruptly. Henry kept close to the southern shore, his body often
touching the soft earth. Fortunately the bushes grew thickly, even on
the steep cliff, to the water's edge. When he had gone three or four
hundred yards he pulled in among them and lay still awhile. He heard the
sound of distant shots and he knew that the Indians were still sniping
the camp. The curve of the Ohio hid the boats of his friends, and before
him the river seemed to be deserted. Yet he was sure that the Indian
canoes were on watch. They might be hovering within fifty yards of him.

He listened for the noise of paddles, but no such sound came, and
pushing his tiny craft from the coil of bushes, he set out once more
upon the Ohio. Still hearing and seeing nothing, he went a little
faster. Henry was a powerful swimmer, and the raft, small as it was,
gave him ample support. Meanwhile, he sought sedulously to avoid any
noise, knowing that only an incautious splash made by his paddle would
almost certainly be heard by an Indian ear.

Presently he saw on the northern bank a light, and then another light
farther up the stream. Probably the Indians were signaling to one
another, but it did not matter to him, and he swam on towards the mouth
of the Licking, now about a half mile away. Another hundred yards and he
quickly and silently drew in to the bank again, pushing the raft far
back, until it, as well as himself, was hidden wholly. He had heard the
distant sounds of paddles coming in his direction, and soon two Indian
canoes in file came in sight. Each canoe co