“To tell you the truth, Simon, I was thinking that I was the man to feel ashamed. You never saw me, and you put two holes into my old cap, for all that. I saw you, and missed you. Simon, I thank God for my erring hand.”
There was a short silence, both hunters being busily employed in drawing the charges from their wet rifles, and wiping the same. Then Kenton spoke, with a curious mingling of pride and regret in his voice, hesitating in a manner not usual with the reckless borderer.
“Then ye don’t think I did so bad arter all, cunnel. I swow I feel amazin’ glad I didn’t hit yer, but still—ye don’t think I acted like a greeny—eh, cunnel?”
“You did what no other woodman in Kentucky could do, Simon. You fooled Daniel Boone,” said the elder hunter, in a grave tone. “I didn’t believe it lay in ye, and I don’t want to meet ye again in such a fashion. But one thing we forget. There’s a white woman on this island, and we have to find her; and, besides that, we haven’t a dry thread till we light a fire. Take one side the island, and I’ll take the other, and hunt till we find her.”
The young ranger raised his hand to his cap in a military salute, as he turned away.
“All right, cunnel. We’ll git her.”
The two hunters moved off on either side of the island in a circuit, which speedily brought them face to face at the upper end, for there was not more than an acre of ground embraced in its limits.
Neither of them had come across any traces of a human being.
Again they turned and searched in the opposite direction, moving cautiously and stopping frequently to listen for the rustle of bushes. At last it became plain that the former occupant of the island, whoever it might be, had decamped in some manner, probably during the noise and confusion of their struggle in the river. At all events, she was not to be found, and the two hunters gave up the search in their second round.