CHAPTER XXIX
WONDERFUL TIDINGS
THE man was so weak that presently he sank back and seemed to sleep.
"Is he going to die?" asked Sandy, alarmed at his looks.
"Not just now," replied his brother, shaking his head as he spoke. "Youfelt that heat of the fire yourself; and you see it has sent him tosleep. Here, cover him with my blanket. It is dry now, and will keephim warm."
Leaving the stranger, who as yet had not spoken a word, the boys turnedtheir attention to the leaky canoe. They knew how the Indians managedto stop any such openings in their light boats, made of birch bark orbuffalo hides; and Bob had been wise enough to carry along some of thenecessary pitch when starting out on this journey of exploration.
"Do you ever forget anything?" demanded Sandy, when he saw his brotherproduce the needed material for mending their boat, and start heatingit over the fire.
"Oh! yes, often," replied Bob, cheerfully; for he knew his own faults,even if Sandy refused to see them. "And it was possible that we wouldrun on a snag that would punch a hole in the boat; so I came preparedto mend it."
The boat had been carried near the fire some time before, in order thatit might dry out. When the conditions were right Bob set to work. Hehad asked Blue Jacket many questions regarding repairing canoes, whenthe young Shawanee brave was a guest under the Armstrong roof; and whathe had learned proved of considerable value to him now.
"How will it hold?" asked Sandy, who was hovering near, eager to lend ahand if his brother needed help.
"I think it will be stronger than ever," came the reply.
"That was always a weak spot, I remember. Once, I thought my foot wasgoing to break through," declared Sandy, reminiscently.
"Just as you say. I noticed it myself, and that was one mistake I made.I should have put this patch on before we started on our trip," and Bobstood back to survey his work.
"Well," remarked the younger lad, as his eyes went out over thattumbling flood, on which the trees were swiftly passing in procession,"we will need a good stout boat if we hope to get over there. Do youthink we can manage it, Bob? I'd be willing to take some chances ratherthan stay here a week, perhaps two, and have mother crying her eyes outfor us the while."
"I see no reason why we shouldn't make it," came Bob's reply. "Thecurrent heads toward our shore. Besides, with three to paddle, weshould be able, foot by foot, to get over. And when we once leave themiddle of the river it will not be so bad."
"Three! Then you expect that our new friend will be able to help out?"and Sandy glanced toward the sleeping stranger.
"Surely. After he wakes up he will be stronger. And he does not looklike one who would shirk. He must have struggled hard to reach thatplace where we found him. Perhaps he saw our fire through the trees, orheard you shout. That was what made him cry out."
Bob had picked up a hatchet as he spoke, and started to move off.
"Let me cut some more fuel," objected Sandy, as he tried to take thetool from the other's hands.
"It isn't that," said Bob. "I am going to look for a piece of wood thatcan be chopped into new paddles. We need three of them, you see, and itis going to be a long job to fashion them, with only a hatchet and ajackknife to work with."
"Then I will go along. Perhaps two pair of eyes may be better than onein looking for the spruce pine," declared the younger brother, eagerly.
And so it proved, for Sandy was the one to discover the tree theysought. Bob could figure just how the paddles might be hewn out, and heattacked the tree in a spirited way that soon encompassed its fall.
When he tired, Sandy took a turn; and in this fashion they finally hadthree pieces, in the rough, which Bob declared would make very goodpaddles. And by slow degrees the first one was shaped until it onlyneeded whittling with a knife to complete the job.
"That seems all right," declared Sandy, as he proceeded to try theblade; "and I give you my word that it is far stronger than either ofthe ones we lost. I mean to fasten my paddle, this time, to my wristwith a bit of buckskin thong, and then, even if I lose my grip, it willnever get away."
"A clever idea," answered Bob, pausing in his work to wipe his brow,and smile at his brother; "and it will pay us all to do the same. Wasit not father who told us how an ounce of prevention is better thana pound of cure? And once a paddle gets caught in the clutch of thatriver it can never be recovered again."
"See!" exclaimed Sandy, "our friend is stirring! He is sitting up, andstaring around him. I think he can hardly understand where he is, andhow he came to cheat the river of a grave. Now he sees us, and smiles.Bob, there is something I like about that man, stranger though he is.I seem to feel that he is a friend, and that we will always be glad werescued him to-day."
"I am sure of that. There, the second paddle is about done. I amtired of the work, so let us go over to make the acquaintance of ourguest. He is beckoning to us," and Bob dropped his hatchet to obey thesummons.
The stranger held out both hands, while his bearded face lighted upwith a smile that, as Sandy had said, was very winning.
"How can I ever thank you, boys, for what you have done?" he said, ashe pressed a hand of each. "But for you I should have passed over tothe other side."
"Please do not say anything more," replied Bob, who could not bear tobe praised for simply doing his duty. "Who may you be, and how didit happen that we found you among the tree-tops at the head of thisisland?"
"My name is Silas Hemphill. With a party of others I was on my waydown the river in a dugout canoe, intending to join our fortunes withthe new settlers from Virginia, who lately came overland. We left FortPitt two days back, and were progressing fairly when this storm brokeupon us. Doubtless we took too many chances, for we presently foundourselves in the grasp of the river, and could not return to shore."
He paused a minute to get a grip on himself, and then continued:
"Finally our boat was overturned. Heaven alone knows what became of mytwo companions; but I fear they must have been drowned. Only by therarest of good fortune, and the favor of Providence, was I able to keepafloat until cast up amid the tree-tops where you found me."
"But why did you shout? Surely you could not imagine that any one wouldbe on this island to hear you?" asked Sandy, curious still.
"I did not know then it was an island. And it seemed to me that Ihad heard a voice calling, which I supposed must belong to one of myfriends who had luckily gained a footing on the shore. That was whyI cried out, for I was frantic. But I fear much that I am the onlysurvivor of the three voyagers."
The newcomer was eying them in turn curiously.
"And now," he said, "I would like to know your names; for I shall neverforget what I owe you both. I can see that you must be brothers, forthere is some resemblance between you; though I should say that thisone," indicating Sandy, "probably takes after his mother; while theother is more like his father. This without knowing who your parentsmay be."
"My name is Alexander, though they always call me Sandy. We are thesons of David and Mary Armstrong."
As Sandy spoke Silas Hemphill's eyes took on a new glow, and again hethrust out both hands to seize those of the boys.
"How wonderful are the ways of Providence!" he muttered, in a way thatgave the listening boys a start. "To think that my life should havebeen saved by the sons of David Armstrong, of all men!"
"Then you know our father?" demanded Bob.
"No, I have never met him," came the reply. "But I have heard muchabout him in the country I happened to pass through while on my wayhere from Carolina, where my former home lay."
The rescued man looked at them both, and Bob was thrilled to seetears in his eyes. Why should this stranger be so moved at sight ofDavid Armstrong's two boys? He spoke of having heard about theirfather--could that have been down in Virginia, in the town which hadbeen so cruel to the man who valued his honor as he did his very life?
Bob saw a faint gleam of light. He hardly dared believe it at first, infear les
t it prove only a hollow mockery. Still, he could not resistsaying:
"You say you heard much about our father, sir,--was it to his creditthat these things were said; or did they tell you the hateful, lyingstories that drove him to come far away from those who were once hisneighbors and friends?"
"My boy, I heard that which your father would give much to know. WhileI stopped for a few days in the town where you dwelt, there was aserious fray in a place where strong drink was sold. One man, a black,was badly wounded. His name was Scipio, Black Scipio he was called, andhe used to work in the same tobacco warehouse where David Armstrong wasemployed. Before he died the man confessed that it was _his_ hand thatfired the barn, for the destruction of which your father was blamed.And now Jason Diggett, conscience stricken for having driven an honestman into exile, wishes to hear from your father in order that he makeamends, in so far as pounds, shillings and pence may heal the wound!"
The Pioneer Boys of the Ohio; or, Clearing the Wilderness Page 32
