From the high bank where they stood the land sloped and narrowed gradually until it ended in a sharp point which marked the last bit of land between the Allegheny and Monongahela rivers.  Here these swift streams merged and formed the broad Ohio.  The new-born river, even here at its beginning proud and swelling as if already certain of its far-away grandeur, swept majestically round a wide curve and apparently lost itself in the forest foliage.

On the narrow point of land commanding a view of the rivers stood a long, low structure enclosed by a stockade fence, on the four corners of which were little box-shaped houses that bulged out as if trying to see what was going on beneath.  The massive timbers used in the construction of this fort, the square, compact form, and the small, dark holes cut into the walls, gave the structure a threatening, impregnable aspect.

Below Nell and Joe, on the bank, were many log cabins.  The yellow clay which filled the chinks between the logs gave these a peculiar striped appearance.  There was life and bustle in the vicinity of these dwellings, in sharp contrast with the still grandeur of the neighboring forests.  There were canvas-covered wagons around which curly-headed youngsters were playing.  Several horses were grazing on the short grass, and six red and white oxen munched at the hay that had been thrown to them.  The smoke of many fires curled upward, and near the blaze hovered ruddy-faced women who stirred the contents of steaming kettles.  One man swung an axe with a vigorous sweep, and the clean, sharp strokes rang on the air; another hammered stakes into the ground on which to hang a kettle.  Before a large cabin a fur-trader was exhibiting his wares to three Indians.  A second redskin was carrying a pack of pelts from a canoe drawn up on the river bank.  A small group of persons stood near; some were indifferent, and others gazed curiously at the savages.  Two children peeped from behind their mother’s skirts as if half-curious, half-frightened.

From this scene, the significance of which had just dawned on him, Joe turned his eyes again to his companion.  It was a sweet face he saw; one that was sedate, but had a promise of innumerable smiles.  The blue eyes could not long hide flashes of merriment.  The girl turned, and the two young people looked at each other.  Her eyes softened with a woman’s gentleness as they rested upon him, for, broad of shoulder, and lithe and strong as a deer stalker, he was good to look at.

“Listen,” she said.  “We have known each other only three weeks.  Since you joined our wagon-train, and have been so kind to me and so helpful to make that long, rough ride endurable, you have won my regard.  I—­I cannot say more, even if I would.  You told me you ran away from your Virginian home to seek adventure on the frontier, and that you knew no one in all this wild country.  You even said you could not, or would not, work at farming.  Perhaps my sister