So the early dawn found the dismal settlement on the bank of the Ohio. Men stood moodily about, watching the destruction of their homes, and feeling very bitter toward the river that was robbing them so mercilessly. Again and again did some one turn the conversation to that subject which had engrossed the mind of Sandy Armstrong for so long--the charms of the rich land to be found away off toward the region of the setting sun, where the Mississippi rolled its mighty flood, and abundance awaited the coming of bold pioneers capable of turning the black soil that would grow fabulous crops. One spoke of the vast herds of buffaloes that roamed unhindered through the aisles of the dense forests; another had heard stories about the vast quantities of the most valuable fur-bearing animals ever seen, and which could be easily captured by energetic trappers. "And the Indians are not of the same bloodthirsty stripe as the Shawanees, the Iroquois, and the Delawares, with whom we have been constantly threatened," was the argument a third settler advanced. Sandy hovered around whenever the talk trended this way, eagerly drinking in all that was said. He believed that, if only that wonderful young forest ranger, Simon Kenton, were present, he would willingly join his fortunes with a party that might be made up to start toward the distant goal, as soon as a suitable flatboat could be built. And Sandy only wished he might see the tall, sinewy figure of the indomitable Kenton striding toward the fire at that very moment; since his coming would certainly sway the weak members of the party toward a conclusion. Abijah Cook, the toothless old ranger, who had been entrusted with the task of keeping track of the river's rise, came hastening toward the gathering at this time. There was something about the way in which he swung his old coonskin cap that aroused the curiosity of the disconsolate settlers. "Abijah brings good news!" some one called out, as the hunter drew near. "The river is surely at a stand!" called the man who swung his hunter's cap so vigorously. "For this half hour it has only risen an inch!" "Then the worst must be over!" exclaimed a distracted father, hurrying off to see if his cabin had stood through that period of stress and strain. It was a scene they would never forget that greeted the eyes of the pioneers as the day came on. Five cabins were no longer where they had been at the close of the preceding day. They had fallen victims to the insatiable maw of the river, and by this time must have been scattered over miles of the watercourse, as roof and walls were torn apart by the force of the current. Sandy was in a fever of suspense. He came back again and again to see if their cabin still resisted the grip of the flood.