"The skies seem to be brightening all around," remarked Sandy. "If only the truth would come out about that barn burning! It is the one black blot on our name, and father feels it keenly, though he tries to be so brave. His honor is very dear to him."
"As it should be," cried Sandy. "But mother never loses hope. Does she not constantly say that in God's good time all must be made clear? And I believe that mother knows best. I keep hoping that some fine day we shall have news from our old home in Virginia, and that word will come to tell us father's name is cleared."
They said no more for some time. Indeed, all of their breath was needed in the violent exertion of forcing the canoe against that current, running six miles or more an hour.
"Oh! I believe we must be near home now!" cried Sandy suddenly, pointing with his extended paddle toward the nearby shore. "See, that bunch of trees on the hill-top looks like the one we can look at from our cabin. Yes, it must be, Bob! Shall we land here, and climb up?"
"Ten minutes more ought to do it, brother," said the other, quietly. "So dip deep, and push hard. It is nearly over; and think of the joy of being home again."
"Oh! yes. They must be dreadfully worried after knowing about that fire. How fortunate that it did not sweep this way," declared Sandy, between gasps; for he was very nearly done up, not having all the rugged physique of his brother.
"We have much to be thankful for," replied Bob, working away.
When the time set by Bob had expired the canoe was turned toward the shore, and the two landed, securing the frail craft, for they hoped to have many a trip in it on the broad bosom of the mighty Ohio.
After this they mounted the hill. Bob, knowing that there were always sentinels on duty, and not wishing to be fired on by mistake, gave a signal that would be recognized; and presently they were met by one whom they knew well, being ushered by the guard into the settlement.