tepped ashore and picked his way to where he had left him,
only to find, as has been shown, that the colored youth, in the face of
positive instructions, had gone elsewhere.

"Sarves me right for bringing him with me," repeated the disgusted
pioneer. "I might have knowed he'd do something of the kind."

In his impatience, he turned to leave the spot without further tarrying,
but his partiality for the youth, whose skill in handling the rifle was
so remarkable, caused him to linger a few moments and emit a couple of
guarded signals.

Inasmuch as Jethro Juggens just then was inside the cabin making his
evening meal, it is unnecessary to say that Kenton's effort was without
success.

"If he did hear me he wouldn't know what it meant, and if he did know
what it meant he'd yell back his answer loud enough to be heard at the
block-house--so I'll let him look out for himself."

Before resuming his place in the canoe the ranger stole to a point near
the edge of the clearing, where, by cautiously parting the undergrowth
and peering out, he could look across to the flatboat and catch the
outlines of the sleeping Shawanoe.

The pioneer was just in time to witness an entertaining scene.

The providential slumber of the warrior was what in ordinary parlance
may be described as a "cat nap," inasmuch as it came to an end, of its
own accord, a moment after Kenton took his last peep at him.

The Shawanoe raised his chin, and then in the most natural manner in the
world, rubbed his eyes by gouging his forefingers into them, just as all
boys and girls do when their senses are coming back to them. Next, he
reached out his hand and brought his rifle in front, doing so while in
the act of rising on his feet. Then he started, became rigid, and stared
at the river as though doubting his own vision.

The canoe, which was there only a short time before, was gone.

After all, it would seem he should have felt no great astonishment, for,
resting so lightly against the bank, it was not to be wondered at that
it worked loose and floated off.

The painted face was turned inquiringly in the direction of Kenton, as
though a glimmering of the truth had entered the brain of the red man,
but clearly that was impossible, and he moved along the bank, speedily
disappearing, in his search for the missing craft.

"He knows about how long he has slept," mused the smiling Kenton, "and
he knows the boat can't have drifted far. When he goes fur 'nough