It was made of twisted grass, and simply
contained several bits of soft, chalky stone such as the Indians
used for painting, which collection Joe had discovered among the
fur-trader's wares.
He glanced around once more, and saw that all those in sight were
busy with their work. He gave the short man a push, and chuckled
when there was no response other than a lazy grunt. Joe took the
Indians' gaudy shirt, and, lifting Loorey, slipped it around him,
shoved the latter's arms through the sleeves, and buttoned it in
front. He streaked the round face with red and white paint, and
then, dexterously extracting the eagle plume from the Indian's
head-dress, stuck it in Loorey's thick shock of hair. It was all
done in a moment, after which Joe replaced the basket, and went down
to the river.
Several times that morning he had visited the rude wharf where Jeff
Lynn, the grizzled old frontiersman, busied himself with
preparations for the raft-journey down the Ohio. Lynn had been
employed to guide the missionary's party to Fort Henry, and, as the
brothers had acquainted him with their intention of accompanying the
travelers, he had constructed a raft for them and their horses.
Joe laughed when he saw the dozen two-foot logs fastened together,
upon which a rude shack had been erected for shelter.
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