David Armstrong, too, managed to conceal what feeling he may have had. But with the little mother it was different. That humble log cabin meant much to her, for inside those stout walls she had spent several fairly happy years; but she put these sad thoughts away with a resolute hand whenever David was near. They would do to dream over when utterly alone, perhaps in the dark watches of the night, in a new country, and amid strangers. All was bustle and confusion. A few of the town people had come out to see the start of the expedition, and many were the remarks that were made concerning the possibilities that awaited the daring travellers. In this hour of parting some of the neighbors, possibly overcome by contrition, tried to make amends for their recent cruel conduct, but David ignored all signs of friendly handshakes, and would have none of them. The iron had eaten too deeply into his soul. The pack train of horses looked quite formidable when lined up for the start. "Twelve of them in all!" Sandy sang out, as he stood ready to urge his animal on when the leader gave the order to start. A hardy gathering of valiant souls the emigrants looked just then. Fortune beckoned to them, and all seemed delightful. If they could only have looked ahead a few months, and seen the terrible dangers that lay in wait, doubtless many a smile would have faded from the faces that now looked so cheerful. "Hurrah!" shouted the boys, when finally the word passed along the line, and those in the lead began to move. But there were no cheers. Those grave-faced men realized only too well that in thus putting their fortunes to the touch, by venturing into that unknown world of which so much had been told, they were carrying not only their own lives, but also those dear to them, in the hollow of their hands. The caravan moved away amid the sound of many voices, as the boys urged their pack steeds along. Never once did Sandy glance back toward the home he was leaving; he seemed given up entirely to the witchery of the adventure. But one pair of eyes turned for a last wistful look at the familiar log cabin, with the grand old oak hovering above its humble roof, that had sheltered her little brood so faithfully these years. And then a turn in the trail shut out the view. Mary Armstrong heaved a sigh, and then resolutely strove to think only of what might be in store for them in the new world to which they were journeying. CHAPTER VIII THE PERILS OF THE WILDERNESS "DID you see that, Bob?" Sandy clutched his brother by the arm as he whispered these words, and both of them sank back lower behind the fringe of bushes. Some weeks had gone by since they had left the old home. By slow degrees the mountains had been surmounted, and they were now nearing the region of the Ohio, on the banks of which the settlers hoped to find homes. There were eleven men in the party, with seven women, and a round dozen children of varying ages.