"A bad sign," said Wentz, and then, turning to Jeff Lynn, who joined
the party at that moment, he briefly explained the circumstances.
"Never did like Silver. He's a crafty redskin, an' not to be
trusted," replied Jeff.
"He has turned round and is looking back," Nell said quickly.
"So he has," observed the fur-trader.
The Indian was now several hundred yards down the swift river, and
for an instant had ceased paddling. The sun shone brightly on his
eagle plumes. He remained motionless for a moment, and even at such
a distance the dark, changeless face could be discerned. He lifted
his hand and shook it menacingly.
"If ye don't hear from that redskin ag'in Jeff Lynn don't know
nothin'," calmly said the old frontiersman.
Chapter IV.
As the rafts drifted with the current the voyagers saw the settlers
on the landing-place diminish until they had faded from indistinct
figures to mere black specks against the green background. Then came
the last wave of a white scarf, faintly in the distance, and at
length the dark outline of the fort was all that remained to their
regretful gaze. Quickly that, too, disappeared behind the green
hill, which, with its bold front, forces the river to take a wide
turn.
The Ohio, winding in its course between high, wooded bluffs, rolled
on and on into the wilderness.
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