CHAPTER I.
COMRADES OF THE FOREST.
"Haow dew yeou dew, cap.?"
"Fine, yer honor; and how is yerself?"
A tall, spare specimen of the backwoodsman, who was sitting by a smouldering camp-fire, had arisen and grasped the hand of a genial-faced Irishman, who was also clad in the habiliments of the forest.
"My name is Smith, Hezekiah Smith," said the former, "What is yours?"
"Pat Mulroony, lately from Tipperary, Ireland, may it plase yer honor."
"Haow did you—how was it you came to find me, if I may be allowed to inquire?" asked Smith, peering round in his face.
"I was jist thraveling through the forest, when I spied the shmoke of fire, and says I to meself, says I, 'There's ayther some graan youngster, or a band of haythen, as doesn't care who saas their camp-fire,' and with that, I pokes around in the wood till I spies you cookin' your legs over the blaze, when I knows by the swate expression of yer countenance, that ye was a gintleman, and, bedad, I finds I was right."
"What might you be doing? What's your business?" pursued Smith, laboring under a great curiosity.
"Faith, I'm an adventoorer, as the convict said. I've been wanderin' in these parts for siveral wakes, without catchin' glimpse of a white skin, till I came upon you."
"That ain't what I mean. What brought you out here in the first place?"
"Me legs," replied the Irishman, decidedly.
"Just so, just so; if you've no objection, I'd like to know your motive, not meaning any offence at all."
"Begorrah, but ye're axin' too much," replied Pat, with a shake of his head. "Niver ye mind the indoocement that I has for taking to the woods. If I may be so bold, what was the same motive that brought yerself here?"
"Nothing in particular—nothing in particular," replied Smith, as if the subject was distasteful to him.
It was plain that both of these characters had a secret history—a history which each was determined should remain a secret with himself. The short conversation recorded above had been sufficient for this fact to become evident to both, and as if by mutual consent, neither made any further reference to it. It sufficed that they were white, civilized beings, wanderers in a dangerous territory, where neither, for an hour, could be assured of his own safety, and where both lacked the great safeguard of experience. This was enough to make them firm and fast friends at once.
"Are you baound up or down the river," queried Hezekiah Smith, refering to the Ohio, which was but a few hundred yards distant.
"Faith, it's little difference where I'm bound, as the man said when then the haythen Injuns bound him to the stake. How is it wid yerself?"
"I'm goin' daown."
"So is meself, if ye's willin' to accept of me company."
"I'm right glad to have you, for I care mighty little abaout goin' much further in this all-fired country, without some one to keep me company. It's the ornerest piece of country I ever seed in all my born days."
"As we agraas so well on the principles, be the same token, we'll agraa on the partic'lars. I'm thinkin' I've seen more of this country pra'ps, than ye has yerself, but it's a mighty little I've seen, after all. But, be the howly powers, it's meself knows enough not to kindle a fire in broad daylight, in these parts."
"But, Pat, s'pose you fall in the creek, and get wet, as I did—how in the name of human nature are you to dry yourself?"
"Dry yourself, is it?" repeated the Irishman, surveying his friend from head to foot; "and what is it ye wishes to dry yerself fur? Bedad, you'll find, if you're long in these parts, you'll have to go wet and hungry more than once."
"About what time do you suppose it might be?" asked Hezekiah Smith, after a moment's pause.
Pat Mulroony squinted one eye up to the sky, as if he was looking at the face of a clock, and answered:
"It lacks an hour or so yet of noon. Are ye cravin' something to ate?"
"O ginger, no! S'pose we set out upon our journey, as I don't exactly see how we're goin' to gain anything by standing here."
"Who laids the way?"
"I'll follow you, as you know more of the woods than I do."
Pat Mulroony struck out toward the Ohio River, closely followed by Hezekiah Smith. Each took long, regular strides, frequently snapping the twigs beneath their feet in spite of the care and caution exercised by each. They were two noticeable personages as they thus pressed forward, each with a long, beautiful rifle slung over his shoulder, and each attired in a demi-savage dress. The New Englander being some five or six inches the taller, was constantly peering over the shoulders of his leader, his curiosity being almost sufficient several times to make him take the lead himself.
They had walked some distance, when Hezekiah caught the shimmer of water through the trees, and knew they were approaching the Ohio. Moving several yards further, they were almost upon the bank, when Pat Mulroony fell flat upon his face as suddenly as if his feet had been tripped from beneath, and Smith, perfectly dum-founded at this curious movement, gazed bewildered at him for a second. Then thinking he had fallen and injured himself, he stooped to assist him to his feet. Motioning him off, Pat spoke rapidly in a ghostly whisper:
"Drop down on yer face! hide quick! down wid ye! quick! quick! the devil himself is coming down the river."
This overwhelming intelligence caused Hezekiah also to "come down," as suddenly as the Irishman, and for a moment nothing but the deep breathing of each could have been heard. But at the end of that time, the curiosity of Smith began to show itself.
"What does he look like, Pat?"
"Did you ever set eyes on a tappin-snarkle?"
"Yes; one of them once bit half of my big toe off, when I was wadin' in a mill-pond."
"Well, bedad, when I cotched the glimpse of him, he looked like a tappin-snarkle, as big as a house."
The curiosity of Hezekiah Smith was roused to its highest pitch. Such a dreadful monster as had been seen by the Irishman, if coming down the river, must soon pass before his view also; and he accordingly lifted his head slowly, until he had raised it and his shoulders perhaps a couple of feet, when he suddenly dropped it again, as if a thousand pound weight had fallen upon his head.
"Did ye see it?" inquired Pat, not daring to lift his own head.
"No; but I was afraid it might see me," replied Hezekiah, slowly raising his head again.
Taking courage from his immunity, Pat Mulroony gradually straightened his arm until he had brought his head nearly on a level with his companion's, when they both looked long and searchingly through the trees, but without discovering the Satanic personage that had been announced.
While gazing thus, a sudden rushing sound was heard, and the heads of our two friends dropped so suddenly that Hezekiah bit his tongue sorely, and the chin of the Irishman dented far into the earth.
"Jerusalem! he hadn't wings, had he?" asked Hezekiah, turning his face around so as to speak to the Irishman.
"He was paddlin' when I saw him, and was too big to flit among the trees here—howly mother! there he comes agin!"
As he spoke, several quails sped overhead with that whirring noise peculiar to the bird. This explained the cause of their fright.
Familiarity with danger breeds contempt, and our two friends, gathering courage every moment, again raised their heads, and looked steadily and unflinchingly out among the trees upon the river. And while thus engaged, they saw what at first appeared to be a small house floating down the river. As it drifted slowly past, the two rose to their feet, and ventured nearer the shore.
"O thunder!" exclaimed Hezekiah Smith, with a sigh of relief, "that's what they call a flat-boat."
"How do you know?" asked Pat; "ye says ye have never been in these parts, and how do you know what one is?"
"When I was at Pittsburgh, I seen two set out down the river, and they looked just like that."
"Be jabers! if it's a flat-boat there must be some one aboard of it," added Pat, his countenance lighting up; "and if there's some one aboard of it, be the same token, there's a chance of our getting down the river."
Hopeful and joyous, both scrambled headlong down the bank with the brilliant idea in their heads. The flat-boat was in the centre of the current, and, had the appearance of a square box; or, perhaps, a better idea of it could be given by comparing it to a cabin resting upon a scow, whose gunwales run higher than usual on every side. A long, sweeping oar was hung at either end, for the purpose of keeping the vessel in the channel, and guiding it through eddies and dangerous passages in the river. Not a living soul upon it was visible.
"Drat the luck!" exclaimed Hezekiah Smith, after stumbling along the shore for several minutes.
"Be the powers, but we'll boord the craft, and take possession!"
Hezekiah caught at the idea, and had already stepped into the water to carry it into execution, when Pat, with an exclamation of astonishment and alarm, caught him by the shoulder and drew him back.