ch they felt sure he would pursue.

At length the weary fugitive reached the banks of the Ohio
River. As yet he had not seen a foe. As yet he had not fired
a gun. He must put that great stream, now swollen to a
half-mile in width by the late rains, between him and his
foes ere he could dare for a moment to relax his vigilance.

Unluckily, expert as he was in woodcraft, Boone was a poor
swimmer. His skill in the water would never carry him across
that rushing stream. How to get across had for hours been to
him a matter of deep anxiety. Fortunately, on reaching its
banks, he found an old canoe, which had drifted among the
bushes of the shore, and stranded there, being full of water
from a large hole in its bottom.

The skilled hunter was not long in emptying the canoe and
closing the hole. Then, improvising a paddle, he launched
his leaky craft upon the stream, and succeeded in reaching
the southern shore in safety. Now, for the first time, did
he feel sufficiently safe to fire a shot and to kindle a
fire. He brought down a wild turkey which, seasoned with
hunger, made him the most delicious repast he had ever
tasted. It was the only regular meal in which he indulged in
his flight. Safety was not yet assured. Some of his pursuers
might be already across the river. Onward he dashed, with
unflagging energy, and at length reached the fort, after
five days of incessant travel through the untrodden wilds.

He was like a dead man returned to life. The people at the
fort looked at him with staring eyes. They had long given
him up for lost, and he learned, much to his grief, that his
wife and children had returned to their old home in North
Carolina. Just now, however, there was no time for sorrow,
and little time for greeting. The fort had been neglected,
and was in bad condition. The foe might even then be near at
hand. There was not a moment to spare. He put the men
energetically to work, and quickly had the neglected
defences repaired. Then determined to strike terror into the
foe, he led a party of men swiftly to and across the Ohio,
met a party of thirty savages near the Indian town of Paint
Creek, and attacked them so fiercely that they were put to
rout.

This foray greatly alarmed the Indians. It put courage into
the hearts of the garrison. After an absence of seven days
and a journey of a hundred and fifty miles, Boone and his
little party returned, in fear lest the Chillicothe warriors
might reach the fort du