reatening, he
rejoiced grimly in the awful river. To float, watching cracks and
ledges of its flat bottom-rock drift quickly upward; to bend to his
oars only when white crests of the rapids yelled for his life; to win
escape by sheer strength from points so low down that he sometimes
doubted but the greedy forces had been tempted too long; to stake his
life, watching tree-tops for a sign that he could yet save it, was the
dreadful pastime by which Bedell often quelled passionate promptings
to revenge his exile. "The Falls is bound to get the Squire, some
day," said the banished settlers. But the Squire's skiff was clean
built as a pickerel, and his old arms iron-strong. Now when he had
gone forth from the beloved child, who seemed to him so traitorous to
his love and all loyalty, he went instinctively to spend his rage upon
the river.

Ruth Bedell, gazing at the loaded rifle, shuddered, not with dread
only, but a sense of having been treacherous to her father. She had
not told him all the truth. George Winthrop himself, having made his
way secretly through the forest from Lake Ontario, had given her his
own letter asking leave from the Squire to visit his newly made cabin.
From the moment of arrival her lover had implored her to fly with him.
But filial love was strong in Ruth to give hope that her father would
yield to the yet stronger affection freshened in her heart. Believing
their union might be permitted, she had pledged herself to escape with
her lover if it were forbidden. Now he waited by the hickory wood for
a signal to conceal himself or come forward.

When Ruth saw her father far down the river, she stepped to the
flagstaff he had raised before building the cabin--his first duty
being to hoist the Union Jack! It was the largest flag he could
procure; he could see it flying defiantly all day long; at night he
could hear its glorious folds whipping in the wind; the hot old
Loyalist loved to fancy his foeman cursing at it from the other side,
nearly three miles away. Ruth hauled the flag down a little, then ran
it up to the mast-head again.

At that, a tall young fellow came springing into the clearing, jumping
exultantly over brush-heaps and tree-trunks, his queue waggling, his
eyes bright, glad, under his three-cornered hat. Joying that her
father had yielded, he ran forward till he saw Ruth's tears.

"What, sweetheart!--crying? It was the signal to come on," cried he.

"Yes; to see you sooner, George.