"I consider him a true man," said Kate, the daughter, who had overheard the latter part of the conversation between her father and the guide. "He doesn't look like a rogue, and I am sure that he would not advise us wrongly on purpose." John Darknight did not reply to the girl's remarks; but relapsed into sullenness, and doggedly turned the prow of the boat to the other shore. "What do you think now?" whispered George Darling in the settler's ear. "I really do not know, George," was the reply, as an expression of fear settled over the father's face. "I trust in God; but we are on dangerous water. Do not be so suspicious, boy, for you make me tremble for the safety of my dear ones." No further words were interchanged by uncle and nephew, and the boat touched the ghostly shore amid deep stillness of voice and tongue. But the ceaseless song of the wild rapids fell upon the voyagers' ears, and the first stars were burnishing the dancing waves with silver. The debarkation took place at once, and the craft was drawn from the water and prepared for the sleeping place of the settler's family. A day of hard pulling against the stream had ended, and the travelers proposed to enjoy the needed repose. The boat was large enough to contain couches for Mrs. Merriweather and the children, while the men would sleep and watch at intervals on the ground. No fire was kindled on the bank, but a cold supper was eaten in silence, and not long thereafter the settler's household lay almost hidden in the boat. Star after star came out in the firmament above, and the gentle winds of night sighed among the leaves; now and then the plash of some amphibious animal disturbed the stillness, but excited no comment, though the noise caused an occasional lift of the head and a brief moment of silent inspection. The camp was just over a little rise in the river bank, and the starlit water was hidden from the eyes of the watch, who, for the first part of the night, was the settler himself. He stood against a tree, wakeful, but full of thought, keeping guard over the precious lives committed to his charge. The boat containing his family was quite near, and the forms of his three male companions looked like logs on the darkened ground. He did not watch the latter, for suspicion never entered his head, and he did not see that one was rolling over and over, gradually leaving the bivouac, and disappearing. Immersed in thought, but quick to note a movement on the part of his sleeping family, Abel Merriweather let the hours pass over his head. At last the plash of the muskrat no longer alarmed him; the singular cry of the night hawk that came from the woods across the stream did not cause him to cock his rifle. A bat might have flapped her wings in his face without disturbing him. Despite the peril of the moment and the great responsibility resting upon him, Abel Merriweather was asleep!