Henry shook hands with them all in turn and they sat down under the shade of an oak.  Mr. Pennypacker looked him over slowly and rather quizzically.

“Henry,” he said, “I scarcely realize that you were a pupil of mine.  Here in the wilderness I see that you are the teacher and that I am a pretty poor and limping sort of pupil.”

“You can teach us all many and useful things,” said Henry modestly.

“What did you learn, Henry?” asked Paul.

Henry told the tale in brief, concise words, and the others expressed pleasure at his news.

“And so Clark is coming,” said the schoolmaster thoughtfully.  “It is wonderful what the energy and directing mind of one man can do.  That name alone is enough to change the nature of a whole campaign.  ’Tis lucky that we have this Caesar of the backwoods to defend us.  What is your plan now, Henry?”

Mr. Pennypacker, like the others, instinctively looked upon Henry as the leader.

“We’ll go straight to the Falls of the Ohio,” replied Henry.  “It will take us two or three weeks to get there, and we’ll have to live mostly on our rifles, but that’s where we’re needed.  Clark will want all the men he can get.”

“I am old,” said the schoolmaster, “and it has not been my business hitherto to fight, but in this great crisis of Kentucky I shall try to do my part.  I too shall offer my services to George Rogers Clark.”

“He’ll be glad to get you,” said Tom Ross.

After the brief rest they began the long journey from what is now the middle part of the state of Ohio to the Falls of the Ohio and the new settlement of Louisville there.  It was an arduous undertaking, particularly for the schoolmaster, as it led all the way through woods frequented by alert Indians, and, besides deep rivers there were innumerable creeks, which they could cross only by swimming.  Bearing this in mind Henry’s thoughts returned to the first boat which they had hidden in the bushes lining the banks of one of the Ohio’s tributaries.  As the whole country was now swarming with the warriors the passage down the Ohio would undoubtedly be more dangerous than the path through the woods, but the boat and the river would save a vast expenditure of strength.  Henry laid the two plans before the others.

“What do you say, Sol?” he asked.

“I’m fur the boat an’ the river,” replied the shiftless one.  “I’d rather be rowed by Jim Hart than walk five hundred miles.”

“And you, Paul?”

“I say take to the boat.  We may have to fight.  We’ve held them off on the water before and I’m sure we can do it again.”

“And you, Tom?”

“The boat.”

“And you, Jim?”

“The boat, an’ make Sol thar do his share uv the work.”

“What do you say, Mr. Pennypacker?”

“I’m not a forester, and as all of you are for the boat, so am I.”

“That seems to make it unanimous, and in an hour we’ll start for our hidden navy.  It’s at the edge of the next big river east of the Scioto and we ought to steer a pretty straight course for it.”

They traveled at a good pace.  Mr. Pennypacker, while not a woodsman, was a good walker, and, despite his age, proved himself tough and enduring.  They crossed Indian trails several times, but did not come into contact with any of the warriors.  They swam three or four deep creeks, but in four days they came to the river not many miles above the place at which they had hidden the boat.  Then they descended the stream and approached the point with some anxiety.

“Suppose the boat isn’t there,” said Paul; “suppose the Indians have found it.”

“We ain’t supposing’,” said Shif’less Sol.  “We’re shore it’s thar.”

They waded among the bushes growing at the water’s edge and the shiftless one, who was in advance, uttered a suppressed cry of pleasure.

“Here it is, jest ez we left it,” he said.

The boat had been untouched, but Henry knew all the time the chances were in favor of their finding it so.  With the keenest delight, they pulled it out into the stream and looked it over.  They had made of it a cache and they had left in it many valuable articles which they would need.  Among these were four extra rifles, two fine fowling pieces, a large supply of powder and lead, axes and hatchets, and extra clothing and blankets.  They had stocked the boat well on leaving Pittsburgh, and now it was like retaking a great treasure.  Shif’less Sol climbed aboard and with a deep sigh of pleasure reclined against the side.

“Now, Saplin’,” he said, “I’ll go to sleep while you row me down to Louisville.”

“We’ll do most of our traveling by night,” said Henry, “and as we’ll have the current with us I don’t think that you or Jim, Sol, will have to work yourselves to death.”

After their examination of the boat to see that everything was all right, they pulled it back into the bushes, not intending to start until the dark set in.  There was a considerable supply of salted food, coffee and tea on board, but Henry and Sol killed two deer farther up the river bank which they quickly cleaned and dressed.  They now thought themselves provisioned for the trip to the Falls of the Ohio, and they carried, in addition, fishing tackle which they could use at any time.

They pulled clear of the bushes about 8 o’clock in the evening and rowed down the river.  But as the stream was bank full and running fast, they did not have to make any great effort.  Toward midnight when they reached some of the wider parts of the river they set the sail and went ahead at a swifter pace.  Henry calculated that they could reach the Ohio slightly after dawn, but as the night was uncommonly clear, with the promise of a very brilliant day to follow, they furled their sails at least two hours before sunrise, and, finding another shallow cove, drew their boat into it among the bushes.

“Now for a sleep,” said Henry.  “Tom and I will keep watch until noon and then Sol and Paul will take our places.  At night we will start again.”

“And where does my watch come, pray?” asked Mr. Pennypacker.

“We want you to help us to-night,” replied Henry.  “We’ll need your knowledge of the sail and the oars.”

“Very well,” replied the unsuspicious schoolmaster.  “It is understood that I do extra work to-night, because I do not watch to-day.”

Henry, when he turned his face away, smiled a little.  It was understood among them all that they were to spare the schoolmaster as much as possible, and to do so, they used various little devices.  Theirs was a good roomy boat and those who were to sleep first disposed themselves comfortably, while Henry sat in the prow and Tom in the stern, both silent and apparently listless, but watching with eyes and ears alike.  The dawn came, and, as they had foreseen, it was a bright, hot day.  It was so close among the bushes that the sleepers stirred restlessly and beads of perspiration stood on the faces of the watchers.  Not a breath of air stirred either in the woods or on the river.  Henry was glad when it was their turn to sleep, and when he awoke, night had come with its cool shadows and a wind also that dispelled the breathless heat.

Then they pulled out of the bushes and floated again with the stream, but they did not hoist their sail.  The air after the close heat of the day was charged with electricity, and they looked for a storm.  It came about 11 o’clock, chiefly as a display of thunder and lightning.  The flashes of electricity dazzled them and continued without a break for almost an hour.  The roar of the thunder was like the unbroken discharges of great batteries, but both wind and rain were light.  Several times the lightning struck with a tremendous crash in the woods about them, but the boat glided on untouched.  About midnight they came out into the flood of the Ohio, and, setting their sail, they steered down the center of the stream.

All of them felt great relief, now that they were on the wide Ohio.  On the narrower tributary they might have been fired upon from either shore, but the Ohio was a half mile and sometimes a full mile from bank to bank.  As long as they kept in the middle of the stream they were practically safe from the bullets of ambushed Indians.

They took turns at sleeping, but it was not necessary now to use the oars.  The wind was still strong, and the sail carried them at great speed down the river.  They felt safe and comfortable, but it was a wild and weird scene upon which they looked.  The banks of the Ohio here were high and clothed in dense forest which, in the glare of the lightning, looked like gigantic black walls on either shore.  The surface of the river itself was tinted under the blaze as if with fire, and often it ran in red waves before the wind.  The darkness was intense, but the flashes of lightning were so vivid that they easily saw their way.

“We’re going back on our old path now, Paul,” said Henry.  “You remember how we came up the river with Adam Colfax, fought the fleet of Timmendiquas, and helped save the fort?”

“I couldn’t well forget it,” replied Paul.  “Why, I can see it all again, just as if it happened only yesterday, but I’m mighty glad that Timmendiquas is not here now with a fleet.”

“Will we tie up to the bank by day as we did on the other river?” asked Mr. Pennypacker.

“Not on the Ohio,” replied Henry.  “As white immigrants are now coming down it, Indians infest both shores, so we’ll keep straight ahead in the middle of the stream.  We may be attacked there, but perhaps we can either whip or get away from anything that the Indians now have on the river.”

While they talked Shif’less Sol looked carefully to their armament.  He saw that all the extra rifles and pistols were loaded and that they lay handy.  But he had little to say and the others, after the plan had been arranged, were silent.  The wind became irregular.  Now and then gusts of it lashed the surface of the giant stream, but toward morning it settled into a fair breeze.  The thunder and lightning ceased by that time, and there was promise of a good day.

The promise was fulfilled and they floated peacefully on until afternoon.  Then shots were fired at them from the northern bank, but the bullets spattered the water a full fifty yards short.  Henry and Sol, who had the keenest eyes, could make out the outlines of Indians on the shore, but they were not troubled.

“I’m sure it’s just a small hunting party,” said Henry, “and they can do us no harm.  Their bullets can’t reach us, and you can’t run along the banks of a great river and keep up with a boat in the stream.”

“That’s true,” said Shif’less Sol, “an’ I think I’ll tell ’em so.  I always like to hurt the feelin’s of a bloodthirsty savage that’s lookin’ fur my scalp.”

He opened his mouth to its widest extent and gave utterance to a most extraordinary cry, the like of which had perhaps never before been heard in those woods.  It rose in a series of curves and undulations.  It had in it something of the howl of the wolf and also the human note.  It was essentially challenging and contemptuous.  Anybody who heard it was bound to take it as a personal insult, and it became most effective when it died away in a growling, spitting noise, like the defiance of an angry cat.  Henry fairly jumped in his seat when he heard it.

“Sol,” he exclaimed, “what under the sun do you mean?”

The mouth of the shiftless one opened again, but this time in a wide grin of delight.

“I wuz jest tellin’ them Injuns that I didn’t like ’em,” he replied.  “Do you reckon they understood?”

“I think they did,” replied Henry with emphasis.

“That bein’ so, I’ll tell ’em ag’in.  Look out, here she comes!”

Again the mouth of Shif’less Sol swung wide, and again he uttered that fearful yell of defiance, abuse, contempt and loathing, a yell so powerful that it came back in repeated echoes without any loss of character.  The Indians on the bank, stung by it, uttered a fierce shout and fired another volley, but the bullets fell further short than ever.  Shif’less Sol smiled in deep content.

“See how I’m makin’ ’em waste good ammunition,” he said.  “I learned that trick from Paul’s tales o’ them old Greeks an’ Trojans.  As fur ez I could make out when a Greek an’ Trojan come out to fight one another, each feller would try to talk the other into throwin’ his spear fust, an’ afore he wuz close enough to take good aim.  All them old heroes done a heap o’ talkin’ an’ gen’ally they expected to get somethin’ out o’ it.”

“Undoubtedly the Greeks and Trojans had thrilling war cries,” said Mr. Pennypacker, “but I doubt, Mr. Hyde, whether they ever had any as weird as yours.”

“Which shows that I’m jest a leetle ahead o’ any o’ them old fellers,” said Shif’less Sol in tones of deep satisfaction.

The boat, moving swiftly before the wind, soon left the Indians on the northern bank far behind, and once more they were at peace with the wilderness.  The river was now very beautiful.  It had not yet taken on the muddy tint characteristic of its lower reaches, the high and sloping banks were covered with beautiful forest, and coming from north and south they saw the mouths of creeks and rivers pouring the waters of great regions into the vast main stream.  Henry, as captain of the boat, regarded these mouths with a particularly wary and suspicious eye.  Such as they formed the best ambush for Indian canoes watching to pounce upon the immigrant boats coming down the Ohio.  Whenever he saw the entrance of a tributary he always had the boat steered in toward the opposite shore, while all except the steersman sat with their rifles across their knees until the dangerous locality was passed safely.

They anchored a little after nightfall.  The current was very gentle and fortunately their anchor would hold near the middle of the stream.  Henry wished to give rest to a part of his crew and he knew also that in the night they would pass the mouth of the Licking, opposite the site of Cincinnati, a favorite place of ambush for the Indian boats.  All the indications pointed to some dark hours ahead, and that was just the kind they needed for running such a gauntlet.

This time it was he and Tom Ross who watched while the others slept, and some hours after dark they saw fitful lights on the northern shore, appearing and reappearing at three or four points.  They believed them to be signals, but they could not read them.

“Of course there are warriors in those woods,” said Henry.  “Timmendiquas, knowing that Clark has gathered or is gathering his forces at the Falls, will send his best scouts to watch him.  They may have seen us, and they may be telling their friends on the south side of the river that we are here.”

“Mebbe so,” said Tom Ross.

Changing their plans they took up the anchor and the boat, driven by wind and current, moved on at good speed.  Tom steered and Henry sat near him, watching both shores.  The others, stowed here and there, slept soundly.  The lights flickered on the northern shore for a few minutes, and then a curve of the stream shut them out.  The night itself was bright, a full moon and many stars turning the whole broad surface of the river to silver, and making distinct any object that might appear upon it.  Henry would have preferred a dark and cloudy night for the passage by the mouth of the Licking, but since they did not have it they must go on anyhow.

They sailed quietly with the current for several hours, and the night showed no signs of darkening.  Once Henry thought he saw a light on the southern shore, but it was gone so quickly that keen-eyed as he was he could not tell whether it was reality or merely fancy.

“Did you see it, Tom?” he asked.

“I did, or at least I thought I did.”

“Then, since we both saw it, it must have been reality, and it indicates to my mind that Indians are on the south as well as on the north bank.  Maybe they have seen us here.”

“Mebbe.”

“Which renders it more likely that they may be on watch at the mouth of the Licking for anything that passes.”

“Mebbe.”

“According to my calculation we’ll be there in another hour.  What do you think?”

“I say one hour, too.”

“And we’ll let the boys sleep on until we see danger, if danger comes.”

“That’s what I’d do,” replied Tom, casting a glance at the sleeping figures.

No word was spoken again for a long time, but, as they approached the dangerous mouth, Tom steered the boat further and further toward the northern bank.  Both remembered the shores here from their passage up the Ohio, and Henry knew that the gap in the wall of trees on the south betokened the mouth of the Licking.  Tom steadily bore in toward the northern bank until he was not more than thirty yards from the trees.  The moon and the stars meanwhile, instead of favoring them, seemed to grow brighter.  The river was a great moving sheet of silver, and the boat stood out upon it black and upright.

Henry, with his eyes upon the black wall, saw two dots appear there and then two more, and he knew at once their full significance.  The ambush had been laid, not for them in particular, but for any boat that might pass.

“Tom,” he said, “the Indian canoes are coming.  Keep straight on down the river.  I’ll wake the others.”

The remaining four aroused, took their rifles and gazed at the black dots which had now increased from four to six, and which were taking the shape of long canoes with at least half a dozen paddlers in every one.  Two of the canoes carried sails which indicated to Henry the presence of renegades.

“In a fight at close quarters they’d be too strong for us,” said Henry.  “That force must include at least forty warriors, but we can run our boat against the northern shore and escape into the woods.  Are you in favor of our doing that?”

“No,” they answered with one accord.

Henry laughed.

“I knew your answer before I asked the question,” he said, “and as we are not going to escape into the woods we must prepare for a river race and a battle.  I think we could leave them behind without much trouble, if it were not for those two boats with the sails.”

“Let ’em come,” said Shif’less Sol.  “We’ve got plenty of rifles an’ we can hit at longer range than they can.”

“Still, it’s our business to avoid a fight if possible,” said Henry.  “George Rogers Clark wants whole men to fight, not patients to nurse.  Tom, you keep on steering and all the rest of us will take a hand at the oars.”

The boat shot forward under the new impetus, but behind them the six canoes, particularly the two on which sails had been fitted, were coming fast.  The night was so bright that they could see the warriors painted and naked to the waist sending their paddles in great sweeps through the water.  It was evident also that they had enough extra men to work in relays, which gave them a great advantage.

“It’s to be a long chase,” said Henry, “but I’m thinking that they’ll overtake us unless we interfere with them in some rude manner.”

“Meaning these?” said Shif’less Sol, patting one of the rifles.

“Meaning those,” said Henry; “and it’s lucky that we’re so well provided.  Those boats are not led by ordinary warriors.  See how they’re using every advantage.  They’re spreading out exactly as Indian pursuers do on land, in order that some portion of their force may profit by any turn or twist of ours.”

It was so.  The pursuing fleet was spreading out like a fan, two boats following near the northern shore, two near the southern and two in the center.  Evidently they intended neglecting no precaution to secure what many of them must already have regarded as a certain prize.  Mr. Pennypacker regarded them with dilated eyes.

“A formidable force,” he said, “and I judge by their actions that they will prove tenacious.”

“Shorely,” said Shif’less Sol, as he tapped the rifle again, “but you must rec’lect, Mr. Pennypacker, that we’ve oncommon good rifles an’ some o’ us are oncommon good shots.  It might prove better fur ’em ef they didn’t come so fast.  Henry, kin you make out any white faces in them two boats in the center?”

“It’s pretty far to tell color, but a figure in the right-hand boat, sitting close to the mast, looks to me mightily like that of Braxton Wyatt.”

“I had just formed the same notion.  That’s the reason I asked, an’ ef I ain’t mistook, Simon Girty’s in the other boat.  Oh, Henry, do you think I kin git a shot at him?”

“I doubt it,” replied Henry.  “Girty is cunning and rarely exposes himself.  There, they are firing, but it’s too soon.”

Several shots were discharged from the leading boats, but they fell far short.  Evidently they were intended as threats, but, besides Henry’s comment, the pursued took no notice of them.  Then the savages, for the first time, uttered their war cry, but the fugitives did not answer.

“Ef they mean by that yell that they’ve got us,” said Shif’less Sol, “then they might ez well yell ag’in.”

“Still, I think they’re gaining upon us somewhat,” said Henry, “and it may be necessary before long to give them a hint or two.”

Now it was his turn to tap the rifle significantly, and Henry with a calculating eye measured the distance between their own and the leading boat.  He saw that the warriors were gaining.  It was a slow gain, but in time it would bring them within easy rifle shot.  The fleeing boat carried many supplies which weighed her down to a certain extent, but the pursuing boats carried nothing except the pursuers themselves.  Henry raised his rifle a little and looked again at the distance.

“A little too fur yet, Henry,” said Shif’less Sol.

“I think so, too,” said Henry.  “We’d best wait until we’re absolutely sure.”

A cry broke from Paul.

“Look ahead!” he cried.  “We’ve enemies on both sides!”

The alarming news was true.  Two large boats loaded with warriors had shot out from the northern bank four or five hundred yards ahead, and were coming directly into the path of the fugitives.  A yell full of malice and triumph burst from the savages in the pursuing canoes, and those in the canoes ahead answered it with equal malice and triumph.  The fate of the fugitives seemed to be sealed, but the five had been in many a close place before, and no thought of despair entered their minds.  Henry at once formed the plan and as usual they acted with swift decision and boldness.  Tom was now steering and Henry cried to him: 

“Shelter yourself and go straight ahead.  Lie low, the rest of you fire at those before us!”

Their boat went swiftly on.  The two ahead of them drew directly into their path, but veered a little to one side, when they saw with what speed the other boat was approaching.  They also began to fire, but the six, sheltered well, heard the bullets patter upon the wooden sides and they bided their time.  Henry, peeping over, marked the boat on the right and saw a face which he knew to be that of a white man.  In an instant he recognized the renegade Quarles and rage rose within him.  Without the aid of the renegades, more ruthless than the red men themselves, the Indians could never have accomplished so much on the border.  He raised his rifle a little and now he cocked it.  Shif’less Sol glanced up and saw the red fire in his eye.

“What is it, Henry?” he asked.

“The renegade Quarles is in the boat on the right.  As we have to run a gauntlet here, and there will be some shooting, I mean that one of the renegades shall never trouble us any more.”

“I’m sorry it’s not Girty or Wyatt,” said the shiftless one, “but since it ain’t either o’ them it might ez well be Quarles.  He might be missed, but he wouldn’t be mourned.”

The boat, with Tom Ross steering, kept straight ahead with undiminished speed, the wind filling out the sail.  The Indians in the two boats before them fired again, but the bullets as before thudded upon the wooden sides.

But Henry, crouching now with his cocked rifle, saw his opportunity.  Quarles, raising himself up in the canoe, had fired and he was just taking his rifle from his shoulder.  Henry fired directly at the tanned forehead of this wicked man, who had so often shed the blood of his own people, and the bullet crashed through the brain.  The renegade half rose, and then fell from the boat into the stream, which hid his body forever.  A cry of rage and fear came from the Indians and the next moment four other marksmen, two from the right and two from the left, fired into the opposing canoes.  The schoolmaster also fired, although he was not sure that he hit any foe; but it was a terrible volley nevertheless.  The two Indian boats contained both dead and wounded.  Paddles were dropped into the water and floated out of reach.  Moreover, Tom Ross, when his cunning eye saw the confusion, steered his own boat in such a manner that it struck the canoe on the right a glancing blow, sidewiping it, as it were.

Tom and his comrades were staggered by the impact, but their boat, uninjured, quickly righted itself and went on.  The Indian canoe was smashed in and sank, leaving its living occupants struggling in the water, while the other canoe was compelled to turn and pick them up.

“Well done, Mr. Ross!” called Mr. Pennypacker.  “That was a happy thought.  You struck them as the old Roman galleys with their beaks struck their antagonists, and you have swept them from our path.”

“That’s true, Mr. Pennypacker,” said Shif’less Sol, “but don’t you go to stickin’ your head up too much.  Thar, didn’t I tell you!  Ef many more bullets like that come, you’d git a nice hair cut an’ no charge.”

A bullet had clipped a gray lock from the top of the schoolmaster’s head, but flattening himself on the bottom of the boat he did not give the Indians a second shot.  Meanwhile Henry and the others were sending bullets into the crews of the boats behind them.  They did not get a chance at Girty and Wyatt, who were evidently concealing themselves from these foes, whom they knew to be such deadly sharpshooters, but they were making havoc among the warriors.  It was a fire so deadly that all the canoes stopped and let the boat pass out of range.  The little band sent back their own shout, taunting and triumphant, and then, laying aside their rifles, they took up the oars again.  They sped forward and as the night darkened the Indian canoes sank quickly out of sight.

“I think we’ll have the right of way now to the Falls,” said Henry.