"But—but," pleaded the distressed girl, "tell father and George to be careful, won't you, please?"
"We are in the hands of God, my child, and have only to do our duty. Help us by causing no anxiety about yourselves."
The great necessity, as has been explained, was to work the flatboat away from land. The most direct means of doing this was by pushing with the poles that had been taken on board for that use; but they were fastened in place as supports for the sail that had brought the craft to this place. The sweeps would accomplish this work, but only slowly and by frightful exposure on the part of those swaying them.
Nevertheless, Jim Deane seized the bow sweep at the moment another ranger grasped the rear one, and both wrought with right good will.
Dark forms appeared in greater number along shore and near the craft itself. The gloom was lit up by flashes of guns, and the air was rent by the shouts of the combatants, for the white men could make as much noise as their enemies in the swirl and frenzy of personal encounter and deadly conflict.
Boone, Kenton, the missionary and most of the men had leaped into the flatboat and crouched low, where all seemed huddled together in inextricable confusion. The two were toiling at the sweeps, and the craft worked away from the shore with maddening tardiness. To some of the terrified inmates it did not seem to move at all.
"A little harder, Jim," called the missionary "shall I lend a hand?"
"No," replied Deane; "I'll fetch it, I don't need you—yes I do, too."
As he spoke, he let go of the sweep and sagged heavily downward.
"Are you hit?" asked the good man, raising the head upon his knee.