Part 26 (1/2)

Mr. Ashbridge was impelled to question the wisdom of this step, for it was hardly to be supposed that a man of peace, whose profession was the opposite of those around him, was the best person to attempt the perilous task; but, brief as was the acquaintance of all with the missionary, he had won their confidence.

Besides, the scheme, whatever it was, had the guarantee of Boone himself as to its wisdom, and was therefore beyond cavil.

”G.o.d go with you!” was the fervent exclamation of the father, as he took the hand of the good man. ”Would that I could help.”

”Gladly would I take you if I saw any possible aid you could afford, but the only aid, friends, that any of you can give me is your prayers.”

”You will have them unceasingly,” said Mrs. Ashbridge, clinging to the hand of the missionary, as if he was her only earthly comforter.

”I dare not tell you to hope for the best,” he said, unwilling to awaken an expectation that was likely to be followed by bitter disappointment, ”but I can only add that whatever may come, try to say 'G.o.d's will be done.' I shall count upon all of you remaining here until definite news reaches you.”

”Have no fear of our going before that,” replied Mr. Altman; ”we are distressed as deeply as our friends, and can hardly bear the suspense.”

As the missionary was stepping over the flatboat into the canoe, George Ashbridge caught his arm, and plead in a low, earnest voice:

”I am sure I can be of some help; please take me. I can't stand it to remain behind to wait and wait--not knowing what the tidings will be.”

”My dear boy,” replied Mr. Finley, laying his hand upon his shoulder, ”if any one was to go with me it should be you, for none can be more capable, but be a.s.sured that your company would be a hindrance, as you would admit if you knew my plan.”

The sorrowing brother still held his arm, but could not speak. The missionary gently removed his grasp, and, entering the canoe, paddled directly out upon the river. The figure of the boat and occupant quickly pa.s.sed from view, and those who remained behind, though they listened intently, could not catch the faintest sound to betray his progress or change of direction.

Now that the party left in the flatboat had some leisure on their hands, they devoted it to looking after their own wounds, and in taking a precaution, which was only ordinary prudence, against surprise. Two of the rangers entered the wood, one pa.s.sing a short distance up and the other down stream. Their duty was to guard against surprise from the Shawanoes.

It was not to be expected that The Panther and his party, after being once repulsed, would accept that as final. They knew the fugitives were provided with a strong escort, and were on their way to the block-house.

Even though they could not be wholly cut off, great damage might be inflicted, and more of the intending settlers placed beyond the power of invading the hunting grounds of the red men. That they would make the attempt was to be set down as one of the certainties of the immediate future.

One of the rangers had been killed during the attack and three others severely wounded; but when, with the a.s.sistance of the women, their hurts had been bandaged or attended to, they made light of them, insisting that they were as ready for effective service as before.

Indeed, it was one of the wounded men that threaded his way up the river bank to help guard against surprise from their enemies.

Another change of direction was noted in the wind. Beginning by blowing directly up stream, it had continued to veer until its course was almost directly opposite, so that, had the flatboat ventured out in the current with its sail still spread, its progress down stream would have been more rapid than ever before.

”Ma.r.s.e George,” said Jethro, ”whar does dis riber flow?”

Wondering at the meaning of the question, the youth replied, after a moment's hesitation:

”It flows into the Mississippi.”

”And what becomes ob dat?”

”It empties into the Gulf of Mexico, which joins the Atlantic Ocean.”

”And dat runs along de oder side ob Wirginny, I hab heard.”

”Yes, such is the fact.”

”I've an idee; let's put out in de middle ob dis riber, and go scootin'

down de Ma.s.sipp to de Gulf ob Mexico, and den up de ocean to Wirginny; dar we'll carry de flatboat ober land till we strike de Ohio ag'in, and den come down to de block-house from de oder side. It'll be a round-about way, but we'll got dar, suah.”