The new trading-post, built on the bank of the Ohio River after the first post, located on the Kinotah, twenty miles away, had been destroyed, was a substantial affair of heavy logs. The main building now consisted of four rooms, and not far away was a storehouse of two rooms, to which was attached a horse stable of fair size. The post was built on a tiny bluff overlooking the broad Ohio, and close at hand was a small brook backed up by rocks. A strong palisade of sharpened logs driven into the soil ran around a portion of the grounds which was not protected by the water, and here was located a heavy pair of gates, ten feet wide, secured by two strong crossbars. At convenient distances loopholes were cut in the palisade, to be used for shooting purposes in case of an attack.
On all sides of the trading-post the forest stretched for miles, broken only by the river and smaller streams, with here and there a tiny waterfall or a lake. In some spots the wilderness of trees and underbrush was so dense that to cut a path through was next to impossible. For miles and miles the only settlements were those of the Indians, who wandered from place to place, as their fancy pleased them. And this was but a hundred and forty odd years ago. To-day this same section of our country contains numerous towns and cities, the river counts its hundreds of steamboats, and the luxurious railroad trains dash by well cultivated farms. Truly the progress of our country has been marvelous.
For several weeks after Dave was rescued from the Indians, and left to continue his journey eastward, matters moved along smoothly at the trading-post. Henry missed his cousin greatly, for the two young soldiers had been like brothers since childhood. But he did not complain, for he knew that his Uncle James must feel equally lonely.
Every day the hunters and trappers who made the post their stopping-place came and went. Some were kind and considerate enough, but others were brutal, and a few wished to carouse and fight, something which Mr. Morris would not tolerate. A great many had been to the war and found it difficult to settle down after so much fighting.
"The war spirit gets into a fellow's veins," said one old trapper to Henry. "It seems so quiet with nothing going on."
"I know the feeling," answered Henry. "I was in the war myself."
"So Tony Jadwin was telling me, Henry; he said you saw lots of fighting, too, you an' your cousin Dave."
"We did—more than I want to see again."
"The Injuns ain't done makin' trouble, Henry."
"I believe you," answered the youth, seriously.