n the party and they were heavily laden. The journey to the
river was without special incident. Many were going over the trail,
and scarcely a day passed that they did not fall in with others. On
arrival at the river the horses were left and the goods were loaded
into canoes.

It was April and the great stream was filled to its banks. At the
start Rodney felt as though he were paddling their frail craft out to
sea toward an unknown shore. There was something sullen and
irresistible in the might of that dark, swollen river, and the craft
was swept along like a twig on the great waters.

The red buds were showing on the trees, a sign of hope, thought the
boy. On his calling attention to them one of the men remarked: "They
ain't the only red thing that's out. We want to be on the lookout, fer
the word from the posts is thet the redskins are gittin' sassy."

The third day Dominick Ferguson was Rodney's partner in the canoe. He
was a vigilant and powerful man, speaking a rich brogue, and when he
laughed all who heard him laughed with him. He had lived in this
country for twenty years, coming here as a soldier, and had passed
much of that time on the frontier. It appeared that he was a man of
some education as well as valuable experience.

"I'm of the opeenion," he remarked, "that there'll be doin's out i'
this country ere long. Virginny'll not yield her claims to the country
wi'out speerin' the why, an' Pennsylvania Dutchmen will cling to what
they ha' like dogs to a root. I've noticed aboot half the parties
we've met are from that colony."

"Do you think there will be fighting?"

"Will there be fightin' at Donnybrook fair, do ye ask? Sure there will
be fightin', an' while the two white clans are tryin' to eat each the
ither, the red devils will be lookin' for a mouthful, I'm thinkin'."

"You talk as though 'twould have been better for us never to have left
Virginia."

"I'm not sure but 'twould ha' been, but nothin' venture nothin' have
is a sayin' as true now as iver. You don't want to turn back?"

"I surely do not."

"That's the Scotch in ye; an' 'twould ha' been the like if 'twere
Irish. Now I ha' the advantage o' gittin' it both sides. Me mother's
eyes were as blue as any colleen's in all Leinster, while the father
o' me was from Argyll, which is sayin' muckle. The one was papist an'
the father a Presbyterian. When they tell ye oil an' water'll not mix,
look at me."

"I've heard they don't ask a man about h