false sense of security.

Whenever Bob and Sandy Armstrong went into the great forests to seek game, or discover likely places where their traps might be set to advantage in the approaching autumn, they were always warned before leaving home to keep constantly on the watch for Indians. If they met with one or more red men they were never to fully trust any professions of friendship, for the settlers of that day did not have a high opinion of an Indian's word.

These two lads were fairly well versed in the ways of woodsmen. They had always been accustomed to roaming through the forest after game; and, besides, they had received many a hint concerning the secrets of the wilds from a genial Irish trapper, named Pat O'Mara.

This worthy was in a measure possessed of the same unrest that caused Daniel Boone to keep almost constantly on the move. In the case of O'Mara, however, it was simply a desire to see new sights, and encounter novel perils, that caused him to wander through unknown countries, rather than any keen longing to open up rich farming lands to civilization.

Occasionally the Irish trapper dropped in unexpectedly at the Armstrong cabin; but after a few days' rest his uneasy spirit would again cause him to disappear.

This very morning, while they worked in their little patch of ground, Bob and Sandy had been talking about their quaint Irish friend, and wondering where he might happen to be at that time, since they had not seen him for over a month.

When the new settlement was in its infancy the Armstrong boys, feeling that conditions had changed, began to alter their dress. It was one thing to be living in Virginia, not so very far from the sea coast; and quite another to be hundreds of miles inland, beyond the great chain of mountains that served as a barrier between them and the oppressive tax collectors of the king across the water.

The homespun woollen garments gave way to those which nearly all hunters and forest rangers of that day delighted in. Thus, while both lads boasted of tanned buckskin tunics, and nether garments, fringed and ornamented with colored porcupine quills, besides real Indian moccasins, after the manner of the attire worn by Daniel Boone, Simon Kenton and the witty Irish trapper, Bob also owned a cap made of coonskin, with the tails dangling down behind; while his brother's was fashioned from the cured skins of gray squirrels.

They had, of course, left the outer garments at the cabin when starting out, that morning, to accomplish a little hard work in the fields that had been planted earlier in the season, for the day was quite warm.

Besides the sound of the ax, or it might be the crash of a falling tree, there were not many loud noises heard as a rule about the settlement. Sometimes a dog might give tongue as he chased after a rabbit that had ventured too near the borders of the colony; again, a proud rooster, that had been carried so carefully over these hundreds of miles of rough country to his new home, would wake the echoes by his clarion crow. It was a busy time for the settlers, and even the older children were compelled to do their share of labor in these first few months on the Ohio.

So it can be easily understood that, when the Armstrong lads heard that constantly increasing series of loud shouts, they felt the blood leaping through their veins both in curiosity and alarm.

Sandy, always impulsive, threw his clumsy hoe to the ground, and, jumping over to the adjacent tree, against which their flint-lock muskets leaned, caught up his own weapon with trembling fingers. (Note 1.)[A]

Bob was the more composed of the two, and it was his voice that now restrained his brother.

"Wait, Sandy," he said, "we are not so far off but that we can reach the cabin quickly."

"But, listen to all that noise, Bob," returned the other, fingering his gun eagerly. "Surely something has happened. Perhaps another tree has fallen the wrong way, and this time done worse than what happened to our father."

The matter to which Sandy referred had been an unfortunate accident whereby David Armstrong had barely escaped with his life. A tree he was chopping had by some means twisted around in falling, so that the settler was caught under the heavy limbs. Only by what seemed a miracle had his life been spared. As it was, he still had an arm in a sling, and was unable to keep up the work he had planned, so that a double duty devolved upon his sons.

"No, I don't think that can be the trouble," continued Bob, slowly. "I heard no crash of a tree. Besides, I fear that there is a note of alarm in the cries; it is as if men were answering each other. There! that time I could almost hear what was being shouted, only the breeze changed a second too soon."

"Could it be Daniel Boone who has come, or perhaps that young ranger, Simon Kenton, whom you and I liked so much when we saw him long ago?" suggested Sandy, with new eagerness; for, to tell the truth, he had greatly admired Kenton when the young friend of Colonel Boone visited the new settlement, and he secretly aspired to follow in his footsteps.

"No, I am afraid it cannot be that," Bob went on, soberly. "They might shout in that case; but there would be joy, and not fear, expressed. Hark! there it rises again! You have keen hearing, Sandy; did you not make out what our neighbor, Peleg Green, was calling then?"

Sandy turned a pale face toward his companion. These two boys had been through numerous perils in common, and were possessed of a great measure of courage; but, after all, they were only half-grown lads, and the sudden coming of this unknown peril filled them with dread.

"I am not sure, Bob," he replied, with quivering lips; "but I believe I could catch something that sounded like—Indians!"

His brother nodded his head at these words.

"I did not like to say so, for fear I might have been mistaken; but it sounded like that to me," he said, gravely.

Now it was Bob who dropped his hoe, and stooped to possess himself of his gun. Carefully he looked to see that the priming was in order, since everything always depended upon a small pinch of powder being in the pan when the time for firing arrived. The flint never failed to strike sparks; but, lacking powder, these would be of no avail.

"Had we not better run for the house?" suggested Sandy, glancing over across the field toward the cabin, where the smoke arose from the clay chimney, the whole forming a peaceful scene in the sunshine of that late summer morning.

"They have not heard the sounds yet, I think," said Bob, as he failed to note any signs of excitement around the log cabin; "and it would be cruel to frighten mother, if there is no need. Let us wait a bit longer, Sandy. We can easily cover that little distance if there is necessity."

So the boys continued to stand there, gripping their guns, and waiting. Meanwhile it can be readily understood that both lads turned anxious eyes in all directions.

"It seems to me the shouts are not so loud as before," said Bob, presently.

"That might be because the running men have reached their homes," quickly remarked his brother.

"Perhaps we had better go to the cabin. We can say we came in for fresh water, if mother wonders at seeing us. After all it may