"I really do not know, George," was the reply, as an expression of fear settled over the father's face. "I trust in G.o.d; but we are on dangerous water. Do not be so suspicious, boy, for you make me tremble for the safety of my dear ones."

No further words were interchanged by uncle and nephew, and the boat touched the ghostly sh.o.r.e amid deep stillness of voice and tongue.

But the ceaseless song of the wild rapids fell upon the voyagers' ears, and the first stars were burnishing the dancing waves with silver.

The debarkation took place at once, and the craft was drawn from the water and prepared for the sleeping place of the settler's family. A day of hard pulling against the stream had ended, and the travelers proposed to enjoy the needed repose. The boat was large enough to contain couches for Mrs. Merriweather and the children, while the men would sleep and watch at intervals on the ground.

No fire was kindled on the bank, but a cold supper was eaten in silence, and not long thereafter the settler's household lay almost hidden in the boat. Star after star came out in the firmament above, and the gentle winds of night sighed among the leaves; now and then the plash of some amphibious animal disturbed the stillness, but excited no comment, though the noise caused an occasional lift of the head and a brief moment of silent inspection.

The camp was just over a little rise in the river bank, and the starlit water was hidden from the eyes of the watch, who, for the first part of the night, was the settler himself.

He stood against a tree, wakeful, but full of thought, keeping guard over the precious lives committed to his charge. The boat containing his family was quite near, and the forms of his three male companions looked like logs on the darkened ground.

He did not watch the latter, for suspicion never entered his head, and he did not see that one was rolling over and over, gradually leaving the bivouac, and disappearing. Immersed in thought, but quick to note a movement on the part of his sleeping family, Abel Merriweather let the hours pa.s.s over his head.

At last the plash of the muskrat no longer alarmed him; the singular cry of the night hawk that came from the woods across the stream did not cause him to c.o.c.k his rifle. A bat might have flapped her wings in his face without disturbing him. Despite the peril of the moment and the great responsibility resting upon him, Abel Merriweather was asleep!

The fatigue of the past two days' voyage, and the almost sleepless nights had told upon his const.i.tution. He had struggled against the somnolent G.o.d, but in vain; and at last pa.s.sed into slumberland unconsciously and overcome.

And while he slept there was a noise in the water which was not made by a night rat. Something dark, like a great ball, was approaching the camp from the northern bank of the river, and the strong arms that propelled it gave the waves thousands of additional gleams.

It came towards the camp with the rapidity of a good swimmer, and at length a huge figure emerged like a Newfoundland dog from the water.

It was an Indian!

For a moment he stood on the bank and panted like an animal, then a low bird-call dropped from his lips, and a second form came from the shadow of a fallen tree.

The twain met at the edge of the water, and with signs of recognition.

"Oskaloo cross the river," said the savage, in the Wyandot tongue.

"White guide break him promise, and land on wrong side."

"Couldn't help it," was the reply. "The old man is doing just what Wells has told him was best. I tried to run the boat over, and bless me if I don't pay 'im for his stubbornness yet."

"How many?" asked the Indian.

"Seven."

"White girl along?"

"Yes; but recollect what I have said about her."

"Oskaloo never forget."

"Is the White Whirlwind over there?" and the speaker glanced across the river.

"No; him with Little Turtle, gettin' ready to fight the Blacksnake."

"That is good. Now, Oskaloo, go back. To-morrow night at this time come when you hear the night hawk's cry."

"All come?"

"Yes, all; but meet me first."

The savage nodded and turned towards the water, and the next moment plunged almost noiselessly beneath the waves.

As he put off from the sh.o.r.e a hand dropped upon sleeping Abel Merriweather's arm, and roused him with a start.

"Hist!" said a voice in a warning whisper. "Father, you have been asleep. We are going to be ma.s.sacred. John Darknight, our guide, is a traitor."

The settler was thoroughly awake before the last terrible sentence was completed, and he looked into the white face of his little son Carl, whom he thought was sleeping beside his mother in the boat.

CHAPTER IV.

LITTLE MOCCASIN IN THE CAMP.

The settler was thoroughly aroused by his little son's startling communication, which appeared too terrible to be true.

"A traitor, Carl?" he said.

"Yes; an Indian who swam the river has been talking to him on the bank."

"It cannot be," replied the incredulous parent. "He is sleeping----"

He paused abruptly, for he made the discovery that but two forms were lying near the boat. The spot lately occupied by the guide was vacant.

Then Abel Merriweather began to believe that Carl had not been mistaken.

"Hist!" said the boy, breaking in upon his father's disturbing thoughts.

"He is coming back."

"To your place in the boat--quick! Do not let him see you here."

Little Carl left his father and glided unseen to his couch in the boat, but peeped over the gunwales to watch the traitor's movements.

Slowly and without noise John Darknight came over the hill, and inaugurated a series of cat crawls toward the spot which he had lately deserted. Once or twice he glanced at the settler, whose drooping head appeared to tell him that he still slept, for he recommenced his crawls, and at last, without disturbing his sleeping companions, regained his buffalo skin.

But his movements had not escaped the sentry's eyes, and Carl was regarding him from the boat. The father was a prey to great perplexity; he believed that the guide's movements indicated treason, but he did not know what course to pursue. To discharge him at once might precipitate the bursting of the plot. To keep him longer and watch, seemed the better plan, and was the one which the settler felt inclined to adopt.

He did not see how they could ascend the river above the rapids without Darknight's experience, for in the voyage thus far his a.s.sistance had proved invaluable.

The night was far advanced and day was no longer remote, when Abel roused Oscar Parton, whose duty it was to stand guard until daylight. He did not impart his suspicions to the impetuous young man, but told him not to close his eyes for a moment, but to watch, for life was at stake.

Then, instead of lying by the boat that contained his family, he dropped upon the ground beside the suspected guide, and with a hand at the hilt of his knife, watched the man who was sleeping heavily.

A bird call from the guide's lips, or a suspicious movement, and he might have forfeited his life.