"That you, Kent?" came a voice as if its owner had just waked.
"Wal, I rather guess so; and it's my private opinion that you'd better tumble yourself in here in short order," returned Kent.
A dark form arose to all appearance from the ground, and pitching awkwardly forward, exclaimed:
"You don't suppose a fellow would be in the boat through all that rain, do you? Oh! is Leland there?" he asked, pausing and collecting his senses.
"No! Poor fellow's scalped and burned at the stake. Had to kill nine of them to save my own hair."
Leslie made no reply, but stepped silently into the boat. Making his way toward the stern, he encountered the very person of whom he had been speaking.
"Hey! who is this?" he exclaimed, starting back.
"A dead red-skin that I cotched," answered Kent.
"Leland, sure as I live!" said Leslie, joyously catching his hand.
For a few moments they heeded not the mirth of Kent at his joke, in their mutual congratulations. Then they turned and heard him say: