Part 4 (1/2)

”You've hit it precisely, Mr. Ashbridge.”

”But how is that to be done? I know of no one beside you to answer the question.”

”Boone and me have been thinking powerful hard over the matter, and the best thing to be done, as I see it, is this: You know we left a canoe down by the clearing alongside the boat. I'll go back there and get it, that is, if it is still there. I'll try to keep so close in under the bank that the varmints won't know what I'm driving at. I'll manage to reach a p'int just this side of Rattlesnake Gulch early in the evening, and will wait for you. Then I'll hurry the women folks 'cross to the other side and make the rest of the journey to the block-house on the Ohio bank.”

”You will have to make two trips with the canoe.”

”Onless I can find another one that was hid under the bushes on this side not fur from the gulch. If that's there, I'll take one party over, and Boone, or some one else, tother.”

”And the rest of us will have it out with the redskins,” remarked Weber Hastings, with flas.h.i.+ng eyes.

”You must start on agin,” said Kenton, addressing Hastings, as the leader of the party in the absence of himself and Boone; ”don't hurry, for as it is you've got too much time now on your hands. If you find you're getting too near Rattlesnake Gulch afore sun-down, you must have some sort of accident that'll give you an excuse for stopping for a time. That'll keep the varmints from 'specting anything.”

”We ought to be able to arrange some accident,” remarked George Ashbridge, with a smile, slyly pressing the hand of Agnes, standing beside him. ”I'll fall over a log if necessary and break a leg.”

”A better plan will be for Jethro to get shot accidentally like.”

”Gorrynation, dat won't work!” exclaimed the negro, who did not let a word escape him; ”de bestest way to fix dat will be to stuff me so full of victuals dat I won't be able to walk alone, and de rest ob yo' will hab to carry me slow like.”

”Wal, time is pa.s.sing; it won't do to stay here any longer; I leave you in charge of Weber; he can do as well as me or Boone.”

The scout turned to move away, when Jethro Juggens laid his hand on his arm.

”See yar, Mr. Kenton, I's worried 'bout yo',” said the colored youth, with an anxious expression on his countenance.

”What's the cause of that?” asked the ranger, who, as already stated, held a kindly feeling toward the good-natured fellow.

”I's feard sumfin' will happen to yo'--feels it in my bones; I tink yo'

oughter hab some one to look after yo' while yo's gone.”

”Would you like to do it?”

”I tinks a good deal ob yo', Mr. Kenton, and I's willin' to take keer ob yo', and see dat yo' gets back all right.”

Yielding to that waggish disposition which was a marked characteristic of Simon Kenton, sometimes under the most trying circ.u.mstances, the ranger said:

”Come on, younker, you shall take care of me.”

And to the astonishment of the party, the two walked off side by side, and disappeared among the trees to the westward.

”We'll make this bargain,” remarked Kenton, a few minutes after they were beyond sight of their friends: ”You'll take care of me, and I'll do my best to take care of you.”

”Dat hits me 'bout right.”

”You'll do just what I tell you to do, and won't speak or move without my first telling you to do so.”

”Dat's it; and yo' won't speak or move without fust askin' me; I'll be easy with yo', Mr. Kenton.”