“I’ve had a pretty good tramp to-day, that’s sartin!” Such was the exclamation of a tall, gaunt, ungainly hunter,—Joe Napyank, as he dropped the butt of his rifle upon the ground, and folding his arms over the muzzle, looked out upon the broad Ohio, rolling by in quiet grandeur.
“I’ve tramped nigh unto twenty miles without once stopping; and, when a fellow goes that distance through woods, cane-brakes, and thickets, dodging the redskins and varmints, it’s no wonder if he’s a leetle blowed. Can’t be I’m too late after all.”
The thought seemed to bring him some discomfort for a moment.
“No; it can’t be, no need of thinking that. I’ve made pretty good time, and have struck the river low ’nough down.”
From his position, a view of the Ohio, for several miles below was afforded him, but the prospect above was cut off by a sweeping bend in the river. The hunter—for such he evidently was—took a long searching scrutiny of the river below, as if in quest of some object. Suddenly he started.
“Yonder is something that’s sartin, but it must be an Injin canoe. Yes, I know it is.”
The object referred to was simply a dark speck, gliding straight across the stream. In a few moments, it struck the other shore and as speedily disappeared.
“Yes; that’s a canoe, that can be told by the way it acts. It’s plain McGowan has not reached this point yet.”
Thus satisfied beyond all conjecture, Joe took a seat upon a tree, prepared to wait the appearance of some object. As we have already remarked, he was very tall and remarkably attenuated,—his weight barely a hundred pounds, while his height was fully six feet. His features were sharp and angular, characteristic more of the New Englander than of his native state of New York. His face seemed as devoid of beard as a child’s; but he had a pleasant blue eye, and there was an expression of good nature on his face, more prepossessing than otherwise. When he talked or laughed he displayed a fine set of teeth, and a remarkably musical voice. His hair was sandy and almost as long and straight as an Indian’s.
Joe Napyank sat some time in a reverie, when chancing to raise his head, he saw in full sight, coming around the bend above, a goodly sized flat-boat, such as were frequently seen upon the western waters, three-quarters of a century since. The hunter’s eyes sparkled.