At the cry, the people flocked to greet him. He had been absent five months and twelve days; four of these months he had been among the Indians. Shawnee paint was still on his face; his hair was unusually long, and he himself uncommonly thin and gaunt—weary but keen.
"Where's Rebecca? How are my wife and children?"
There was silence. Then Simon Kenton spoke up frankly.
"Well, you see, Dan, they'd give you up. We all thought you dead—you and likely the rest of the boys. You'd escaped once from those same Injuns; 't ain't their nater to let a man escape twice. So Rebecca got heart-sick. After waitin' a bit, and hearin' naught, she packed what she could and took the children, and set out hossback for her father's home in North Caroliny."
Daniel Boone grew pale.
"Alone?"
"Yes."
"Did she get there?"
"Yes; all right. Never harmed."
"Thank God. I do not blame her."