Prudence required him to wait until the moon was obscured. Masses of vapor were continually passing in front of it, and he had to wait only a few minutes when the gloom permitted the attempt.
With the same cool promptness he swam toward shore, until the distance he had in mind was passed. Then carefully measuring the space, he sank below the surface again. The precaution seemed unnecessary, but such trifles sometimes decide the question of life and death. Not the slightest misgiving remained, when he noiselessly raised his head beneath the overhanging branches, that his departure and return were suspected by a single Shawanoe.
And yet he was only on the threshold of his enterprise. The real work now confronted him.
Having come in to shore at a point considerably above where he had left it, Kenton hoped the canoe for which he was searching was below him. He therefore decided to continue his hunt in that direction.
With the advantage gained, he required but a short time to do this, the result being a mistake on his part. He saw nothing of the craft.
He was about to turn again when he looked out upon the river, where the moon was shining with unobscured light.
He gave a start, and peered through the parted bushes a second time, and, as he did so, he received the greatest shock of his life. Never before or after that eventful night did he go through so astounding an experience.
So terrified indeed was the brave ranger by what he saw, that, forgetful of the Shawanoes, the imperiled fugitives, and everything except his own panic, he dashed through the intervening space, and, bursting into the inclosure where he had left his friends, called in a husky undertone:
"Boys, we're lost! we're lost! There's a ghost coming up the river!"