The day was hot and sultry, in early summer, about a year afterward, on the broad, shallow stream of the Kanawha River, as a flotilla of large flat-boats, known to the voyageurs as bateaux, was steadily following its way down the stream, assisted by the current, and urged by four or six long sweeps in each boat, pulled by two or three men apiece.

The bateaux were long, broad flat-boats, square at each end, hastily constructed from green plank, on the borders of the river, like nothing but great scows. There were seven of these rude but effective craft, all full of armed men, and holding about two hundred and fifty souls, all told.

Among these was a very small sprinkling of women and children; but the far greater proportion were stout, bronzed backwoodsmen, apt at a fight, and unerring in aim.

The leading boat of the flotilla was distinguished by a little house, or cabin, built in its center, on the summit of which rose a flag-staff, from which drooped a small white flag, bearing the pine-tree and coiled rattle-snake of the infant nation, which had not as yet been replaced by the memorable Stars and Stripes.

By this flag-staff, glass in hand, stood the leader of the expedition, Colonel George Rogers Clark, and by him a lad of about fifteen, slender in figure, of very dark complexion, who wore the same half-military dress as his leader—the hunting-shirt and leggings being fringed with gold lace, and the fur cap faced with a gilt plate of military device. Both wore swords and pistols, with officers’ scarlet sashes around the loins, to indicate authority.

“We shall get to the Ohio in an hour hence, colonel, if we keep up this speed,” remarked the boy officer, as Clark put down the glass with which he had been scanning the river ahead.

“I think so,” said Clark, gravely. “We shall get news[40] there, at all events, Mr. Frank. Have you the morning report yet, sir?”

“Yes, colonel,” replied young Frank, promptly; “there are but three sick in the command, and one of them is a woman.”

Clark frowned, and made an impatient movement.

“These women are always in the way,” he said. “One would think that an expedition of this sort would put them out of conceit to come; but there’s no stopping the willful hussies—and they’re sure to fall sick just when we don’t want them. I wish they’d stay where they belong.”

The boy officer—he was Clark’s adjutant—laughed, as he said:

“Well, colonel, you know it’s no use fighting them. They will have their own way, as you say. This one I speak of isn’t rightly sick, but she met with an accident, yesterday, in passing the rapids. To save her husband, who was tired out, she took his place at the oar, with two of Captain Helm’s men, and when the oar struck a rock, during the passage, all three were sent flying and badly bruised. That’s all of our sick-list.”

“Well, well,” said the commander, a little mollified, “that’s not so bad; but one thing I’m determined on, adjutant: when we get to the falls, I ship every blessed woman in the command. I won’t be bothered with them. And as for the married men, if they grumble, by Jove, they shall go, too. I wish there wasn’t a woman left to get in the way. They are unmitigated nuisances.”

The little adjutant laughed.

“Why, colonel, they told me you left Kentucky in company with a woman—old Tobacco’s daughter. How’s that?”

“Oh, she was only a child,” said Clark, carelessly; “a plucky child, too, by the bye, and as good at hiding as an old Shawnee warrior. But we didn’t travel long together. She brought me certain propositions from—well, never mind who, sir; that’s my affair—and when we had talked over the business, I packed her off to her adopted father. I may see her again, if this expedition succeeds, but I doubt if I should know her again. So much for your sneer, youngster.”

The boy adjutant laughed again, and said:

[41]

“So you’ll see her again, if the expedition succeeds, sir? Then I suppose we’re going to St. Vincent’s?”

Clark, who was again looking out ahead, put down the glass, and ............