He was attired in a plain, homespun dress, such as, at the period of which we write, were more often seen in civilized communities, than as far west as this portion of the Ohio. He had a keen, black eye, dark, flowing hair, a pleasant face, considerably embrowned, and bearing the unmistakeable impress of a firm will, and iron determination. He scanned his visitors as they came aboard, and seemed to gather from a glance their character.
"If you've no objection, what might be your name?" asked Hezekiah, in his gentle, insinuating voice.
"Luther Waring."
"Eh, yes, just so; glad to hear. Ain't married, now, I dare say?"
"No, sir."
"Might be engaged, perhaps?"
"Yes; to tell the truth, I am," replied Waring, "and, if I ever get safely through this infernal Indian country, down to the settlements, I'll be married."
"Where might the—where might the lady be now?" pursued Hezekiah, evidently determined to get all he could out of Waring.
"She and her father are in the cabin, and, I suppose, will soon show themselves."