E WORK.

It will be borne in mind that Kenton had approached the clearing from
the east, or up the river, so that it was necessary to cross the open
space to reach the spot where the silent flatboat rested against the
bank, and near which he expected to find the canoe, so necessary in the
plan he had formed for saving the settlers and their families.

To start across this clear space was too risky a proceeding for so
guarded a woodsman as he. If any of his enemies were on the other side,
where he meant to look for the smaller boat, the ranger was certain to
be detected. His plan, therefore, was to pass around the clearing by
entering the woods and moving to the rear. This he set out to do upon
parting from Jethro Juggens.

He had not yet passed from sight among the trees when his steps were
arrested by a vigorous "St! st!"

Well aware of the point whence it came, he turned impatiently around,
took a couple of steps toward his dusky companion, and demanded in an
undertone:

"What do you want?"

"Yo' tole me not to speak or move or breve; if I don't speak or move,
can't you let up on de breving bus'ness? I'm afraid it's gwine to bodder
me to shet off breving."

"All right, so you don't forget to stay right where you are till I come
back."

Kenton resumed his advance, keeping out of sight in the woods, until he
had skirted three sides of the clearing and approached the river again,
opposite the point where he had first halted with his companion, and
failed to see the canoe.

As yet it was an absolute mystery as to what had become of the lesser
boat. A half-dozen causes might account for its disappearance. It might
have been set adrift by one of the Shawanoes, or captured and paddled
across the river, or destroyed, or--

At that moment the figure of a sinewy Shawanoe shot up to view, as if
from a jumping-box. He was near the canoe, but between it and Kenton,
and so close, indeed, that but for the fact that his face was turned
toward the river, he must have discovered the white man.

Kenton's heart gave a quick throb, for something in the shoulders, the
back of the head and contour of the body suggested that the Indian was
his old enemy, Wa-on-mon, The Panther.

"If it's the varmint himself," thought Kenton, "him and me can just as
well have it now, even if there are others of his people not fur off."

Either the Indian did not see that on the river for which he was
searching, or the view was satisfactory,