Part 21 (2/2)

”At any rate it is worth trying,” was his conclusion.

But in arriving at this belief, it did not occur to the good man that the seeming apparition might produce the same effect upon the white men as upon the Shawanoes.

CHAPTER XXI.

THE PHANTOM OF THE RIVER.

The reader has long since penetrated the cause of the panic into which Simon Kenton was thrown--a panic as wild, as unreasonable and uncontrollable as that of the single Shawanoe, some time before, when he plunged into the forest and fled as if from the pursuit of the evil one himself.

There were no more superst.i.tious men living than 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 that flatboat is coming up the river; it's right off sh.o.r.e; it'll be among us in a few minutes; we had better take to the woods.”

And, incredible as it may seem, the intrepid scout would have led the absurd stampede, had not his elder and cooler friend laid his hand on his arm.

”Simon, you ain't yourself; don't forget the varmints are all around us.”

”Dan'l,” returned Kenton, sharply, ”did you ever see a ghost?”

”I have not.”

”Wal, if you want to see one, walk down to the edge of the river and there it is! As for me, I want to git away afore it comes any closer; but I forgot 'bout the varmints; I'll wait till you folks have a look at it, and then we'll all run.”

Evidently, the ranger was rallying from his panic.

<script>