As the Shawanoes had invariably come from and returned to the Kentucky side of the river, Waring concluded that the entire war party was upon that shore, and it was therefore determined in leaving the island that they should cross over to the same bank.
"It will bother us somewhat to manage our rifles," said he, "and as we may need them the instant we touch land, we must keep them and our ammunition out of the water."
"Rip off a piece of this old hulk, and float them over on that."
"A good idea."
The suggestion of Hezekiah was adopted at once. A portion of the cabin was loosened and placed in the water, and upon it was laid their two rifles and powder horns. The raft thus formed was so buoyant as to afford them material assistance in swimming.
The night was of inky darkness; the most favorable that the two adventurers could have wished. Yet, fearing that the savages might suspect some such stratagem as this, they allowed themselves to drift downward with the raft until they had passed the lowermost portion of the island, when they shoved out into deep water, and commenced working their way cautiously over toward the Dark and Bloody Ground.
"Be careful and keep your limbs under water," admonished Waring; "a single splash may betray us."
"Yes, I understand," whispered Hezekiah, kicking around like a frantic frog. "It appears to me that we're going down stream faster than across it."
Such was the case, as Waring found that his efforts alone tended to carry them across, Hezekiah's being as much in one direction as another, amounted to nothing.
"Drat it," muttered the latter, "it's something like that canoe I got into the other night. Never mind, we'll come out somewhere."