“Come,” said Wetzel, leading the way into the forest.

* * *

Shortly after daylight on the second day following the release of the Downs brothers the hunter brushed through a thicket of alder and said:  “Thar’s Fort Henry.”

The boys were on the summit of a mountain from which the land sloped in a long incline of rolling ridges and gentle valleys like a green, billowy sea, until it rose again abruptly into a peak higher still than the one upon which they stood.  The broad Ohio, glistening in the sun, lay at the base of the mountain.

Upon the bluff overlooking the river, and under the brow of the mountain, lay the frontier fort.  In the clear atmosphere it stood out in bold relief.  A small, low structure surrounded by a high stockade fence was all, and yet it did not seem unworthy of its fame.  Those watchful, forbidding loopholes, the blackened walls and timbers, told the history of ten long, bloody years.  The whole effect was one of menace, as if the fort sent out a defiance to the wilderness, and meant to protect the few dozen log cabins clustered on the hillside.

“How will we ever get across that big river?” asked Jim, practically.

“Wade—­swim,” answered the hunter, laconically, and began the descent of the ridge.  An hour’s rapid walking brought the three to the river.  Depositing his rifle in a clump of willows, and directing the boys to do the same with their guns, the hunter splashed into the water.  His companions followed him into the shallow water, and waded a hundred yards, which brought them near the island that they now perceived hid the fort.  The hunter swam the remaining distance, and, climbing the bank, looked back for the boys.  They were close behind him.  Then he strode across the island, perhaps a quarter of a mile wide.

“We’ve a long swim here,” said Wetzel, waving his hand toward the main channel of the river.  “Good fer it?” he inquired of Joe, since Jim had not received any injuries during the short captivity and consequently showed more endurance.

“Good for anything,” answered Joe, with that coolness Wetzel had been quick to observe in him.

The hunter cast a sharp glance at the lad’s haggard face, his bruised temple, and his hair matted with blood.  In that look he read Joe thoroughly.  Had the young man known the result of that scrutiny, he would have been pleased as well as puzzled, for the hunter had said to himself:  “A brave lad, an’ the border fever’s on him.”

“Swim close to me,” said Wetzel, and he plunged into the river.  The task was accomplished without accident.

“See the big cabin, thar, on the hillside?  Thar’s Colonel Zane in the door,” said Wetzel.

As they neared the building several men joined the one who had been pointed out as the colonel.  It was evident the boys were the subject of their conversation.  Presently Zane left the group and came toward them.  The brothers saw a handsome, stalwart man, in the prime of life.