NG UP THE STRANDS

XVIII.--THE HALTING OF THE FLEET

XIX.--THE WATERY PASS

XX.--THE TRUMPET'S PEAL

XXI.--FORCES MEET

XXII.--THE SPEECH OF TIMMENDIQUAS

XXIII.--ON THE OFFENSIVE

XXIV.--THE DECISIVE BATTLE

THE RIFLEMEN OF THE OHIO

CHAPTER I

THE EYE OF THE FLEET

The fleet of boats and canoes bearing supplies for the far east turned
from the Mississippi into the wide mouth of the Ohio, and it seemed, for
a time, that they had come into a larger river instead of a tributary.
The splendid stream, called by the Indians "The Beautiful River," flowed
silently, a huge flood between high banks, and there was not one among
the voyagers who did not feel instinctively the depths beneath him.

A single impulse caused every paddle and oar to lie at rest a few
moments, and, while they swung gently with the slow current just beyond
the point where one merged into the other, they looked at the two mighty
rivers, the Mississippi, coming from the vast unknown depths of the
northwest, rising no man knew where, and the Ohio, trailing its easy
length a thousand miles through thick forests haunted by the most
warlike tribes of North America. The smaller river--small only by
comparison--bore the greater dangers, and they knew it.

It was the fleet of Adam Colfax, and the five who had gone to New
Orleans and who had come back, triumphing over so many dangers in the
coming and the going, were still with him. Henry Ware, Paul Cotter, and
Shif'less Sol Hyde sat in the foremost boat, and the one just behind
them contained Silent Tom Ross and Long Jim Hart. After the great battle
on the Lower Mississippi in which they defeated the Indians and
desperadoes under Alvarez, the voyage had remained peaceful as they
pulled up to the Ohio.

"It's our own river again, Henry," said Paul. Both felt a sort of
proprietary interest in the Ohio.

"It's so, and I'm glad to look on it again," replied Henry, "but the
Shawnees, the Miamis, the Wyandots, and others will never let us by
without a fight."

He spoke with gravity. But a boy in years, the many stern scenes through
which he had passed and his natural instinct for the wilderness made him
see far. He was thinking of the thousand miles, every one with its
dangers, that they must travel before they could unload their supplies
at Pittsburgh for the struggling colonists.

No concern of the future troubled the soul of Long Jim Hart. He