“Yes, sir.”
“Then, I’ll go below for awhile.”
A moment later and Joe Napyank was left alone on the deck of the flat-boat.
As he stood with his right arm partly raised, resting upon the oar his keen nervous eyes fixed upon the river beyond, he was a fine specimen of the daring pioneer of the West.
Gradually the day waned and the gloomy shadows lengthened over the river. The great wilderness became darker and gloomier and the form of the hunter gradually blended with the night.
An hour later, the full moon rolled above the forest, and the river glistened brightly in its rays. Silently the flat-boat glided onward, its skilful pilot ever maintaining its position as near the centre of the river as possible.
The cabin, we may remark in this place, was divided into two compartments of nearly the same size. The forward was the sleeping one for the females, and was only occupied by them during the night. The other was the general sitting-room in which all remained most of the day, and in which the men spent the night.
A dim light was burning, sending forth a heavy oily smoke, which found vent through the trap-door above. The faces of all looked wan and ghastly in the sickly yellow light.
They, however, remained but a comparatively short time below. Their meal finished and they all went above,—the two Smiths, including also the wife, took their position at the bow of the boat, when they could look, fight if necessary and—keep still.
It was far from being the case at the bow, where were congregated McGowan, Napyank, young Smith, and Mrs. McGowan and her daughter. They were disposed to enjoy the scene as much as possible.