David Armstrong was now getting quite old. Thirty years had passed since he came down the Ohio on a flatboat, seeking a new home in the wilderness; and his hair was as white as the snows that came with each succeeding winter. He was not able to do much manual labor himself, but hired help to look after his extensive holdings, that already had increased ten times in value, and would be worth a fortune later on, if they could only manage to retain possession of them. Evidently the old man and his wife had been told of the bold proposition which Dick and Roger had made, for his dimmed eyes rested fondly on his other grandson as Dick entered the big cabin. David loved these boys even as he had his own sons. He had watched their growth into young manhood, and in every way fostered their good traits. And, knowing what they were capable of doing, if any one was able to decide whether they could be entrusted with such a dangerous mission it should be Grandfather Armstrong. Sandy was almost as sturdy a man as his brother Bob, and his wife was a fine helpmeet for a pioneer. There was none her equal in all that region when it came to putting up sweets for the long winter season and in carrying out the numerous responsibilities that a housewife in those times had to take upon her shoulders. But just now Phoebe Armstrong seemed dumb with the dread that had seized her, after hearing what an undertaking her only boy proposed embarking upon. Aunt Kate, too, was there, a buxom young woman, who had helped to mother all the children of her two brothers as they came along; and now took upon herself many of the duties that were proving too arduous for her mother, not so strong as in the years long gone by. And the last member of the group was little Mary, Sandy's daughter, a winsome child of seven, with flaxen hair, and eyes rivaling the blue skies and who, as already mentioned, had been named after Grandmother Armstrong. And then the grand "powwow," as Roger called it, began, the boys stating their case, and begging hard to be allowed to carry out the plan they had set their hearts on. Both fathers also entered into the discussion, but the mothers only listened, rather white of face, but evidently willing that such an important matter should be settled by the heads of the houses. All the while Grandfather Armstrong sat there, smoking his long pipe, and listening to what was said. And after all had been argued, fathers and boys seemed to turn toward the old man for a decision. Removing his pipe, David Armstrong looked around at the row of eager as well as anxious faces, and, speaking slowly, delivered himself of his decision. "I think," he said, very solemnly, "that these brave boys should be allowed to show what they are made of, and try to save for their parents the homes we have planted here in this beautiful spot. And so, let them make the venture!" CHAPTER VI BAD NEWS