Now it was I understood why Simon Kenton had refrained from making any disagreeable remark when Paul told of our movements. He realized that we had done a reckless thing, but was not minded to say what might have hurt our feelings at a time when we had just aided in saving his life.
But for my quick tongue I should never have known that he realized fully all my folly.
It can well be fancied that, after this reminder that I was not to be trusted in time of danger, my lips remained closed, and in silence I set about making ready for the journey.
The dugout which Kenton had decided to take was lying alongside, and in her had already been placed such a supply of provisions as we might need.
There was little for Paul and I to do save get our sleepy eyes wide open, and clamber over the side of the flat-boat, a task which we performed in silence.
Major Clarke was awake to give us his final instructions, and after he had held a private conversation with Kenton, the latter came into the canoe, casting off the hawser as he said in answer to a whispered remark of the commander's:
"Never fear but that I know full well what may happen, an' you can count on my bein' more careful than before."
I had an idea that these words might have reference to my foolishness of the night previous, and did not seek to learn what Major Clarke had been warning him against.
We pushed off into the darkness, our light craft moved quickly away by the rapid current, and almost immediately it seemed as if we were wholly alone in the wilderness once more.
Save to keep the canoe in mid-stream, Kenton made no effort to direct her movements, and we floated down the river in silence, keeping sharp watch on either bank while I promised myself never again to be guilty of giving way to fear.