It was growing dark again when Henry brought his canoe to a sudden stop and then turned hastily shoreward. Far ahead he had seen another craft, holding two men. That they were whites he was sure, but whether French or English was still to be determined. He moved his canoe into a cove, and secreting himself in the bushes awaited the approach of the strangers.
Soon the boat came close enough for him to make out the voices of the newcomers. One voice sounded strangely familiar, and peering through the bushes Henry was overjoyed to recognize Sam Barringford, who was sitting in the bow of the boat, rifle in hand, while his companion was rowing.
"Sam! Sam!" he cried, as he rushed forward. "Oh, Sam, how glad I am to see you!"
"Well, by the eternal, ef it ain't Henry!" shouted the frontiersman, in almost equal joy. "This is dumb luck an' no mistake. Why, me and Gangley came out on purpose to see ef we couldn't find out what had become of ye! Are ye alone?"
"Yes."
"Any Injuns about here?"
"There are a number up the shore—about ten or fifteen miles from here."
The boat was turned into the cove and soon Henry and his old friend were shaking hands, and then the
