Part 22 (1/2)

Among the group that gathered around him were several who were quick to recover from their own fright, and to see that the true course was to investigate the cause of the latter's state of mind.

”Wait here till I take a look for myself,” said George Ashbridge, touching the elbow of his father; ”there's something in this that I don't understand; I will be gone but a few minutes; it's the strangest condition of affairs I ever knew.”

He whisked off in the obscurity and quickly reached the river side.

Meanwhile, Missionary Finley gave proof of his sagacity. Having decided to use the flatboat and its sail as a possible weapon, he had risen to his feet, and with hands grasping the bow oar was figuring as to how he could discover the proper point at which to work the boat to land.

He had made up his mind to emit a signal which would be recognized either by Boone or Kenton, if it reached their ears, when across the brief, intervening s.p.a.ce he heard the thres.h.i.+ng and the terrified exclamations of his old friend.

”Here we are, Jethro! This is the place! Now, work with a will!”

Both bent their strong arms to the task, and the water was churned at each end of the craft by the broad blades that swept deep and powerful like the arms of a propeller. The bulky boat responded and began approaching the bank, no more than a couple of rods distant.

In this hurly-burly of affright and excitement, the missionary compressed his lips to keep back the tugging smile. He had caught the first words uttered by Kenton, identified his voice, and understood the cause of his alarm.

”If it please Heaven to deliver us all from peril,” was the thought of Finley, ”I shall not forget this affair, and I will make sure that Simon is not allowed to forget it.”

It was only a minute or two later that George Ashbridge hurried to the margin of the water. The sweep of the long oars and the sight of the flatboat itself, with the spread of sail above it, all so near that they were recognized at the first glance, told the whole amazing story to the young man, though, as yet, he could not comprehend how it had all come about.

One of the figures toiling at the sweeps was Jethro Juggens; he could form no suspicion as to the ident.i.ty of the other.

”Is that you, Jethro?” called Ashbridge, in a guarded undertone.

”It am,” was the proud response; ”keep out ob de way, Ma.r.s.e George, or dis boat will run ober you. We's comin' like thunder.”

”There! that will do,” said the missionary, as the boat struck sideways, almost abreast of where the youth was standing; ”we couldn't have made a better landing. Good evening, my friend; I am sure we are welcome.”

With these cheery words the man, with his rifle in his left hand, stepped across the gunwale upon the hard earth and extended his right to young Ashbridge.

”My name is Finley--James B. Finley; I am a missionary for Ohio and Kentucky, and joined your young friend hero to see whether I can be of any help to you and those with you.”

”And an angel could not be more welcome,” was the fervent response of the youth, returning the warm pressure of the good man.

”There seems to be trouble here,” said he, with grave concern.

”We are in sore straits, indeed; we have been resting for a good while, afraid to go on, for there is an ambuscade of the Indians just beyond, into which they are waiting for us to enter.”

”I presume the Shawanoes are in charge of The Panther.”

”So Daniel Boone tells us.”

”I feared as much; I'm glad that Boone is with you.”

”And so is Kenton.”

”Yes; I recognized his voice; he seems to be a little disturbed by the appearance of our craft.”

”I never knew it was possible for a man like him to become so frightened. He seems to have lost his wits.”