He met the others, however, with a serene face, showing no trace of the emotion which welled up strongly from his heart.  Nell glanced shyly at him; Kate playfully voiced her admiration; Jim met him with a brotherly ridicule which bespoke his affection as well as his amusement; but Colonel Zane, having once yielded to the same burning, riotous craving for freedom which now stirred in the boy’s heart, understood, and felt warmly drawn toward the lad.  He said nothing, though as he watched Joe his eyes were grave and kind.  In his long frontier life, where many a day measured the life and fire of ordinary years, he had seen lad after lad go down before this forest fever.  It was well, he thought, because the freedom of the soil depended on these wild, light-footed boys; yet it always made him sad.  How many youths, his brother among them, lay under the fragrant pine-needle carpet of the forest, in their last earthly sleep!

The “raising” brought out all the settlement—­the women to look on and gossip, while the children played; the men to bend their backs in the moving of the heavy timbers.  They celebrated the erection of a new cabin as a noteworthy event.  As a social function it had a prominent place in the settlers’ short list of pleasures.

Joe watched the proceeding with the same pleasure and surprise he had felt in everything pertaining to border life.

To him this log-raising appeared the hardest kind of labor.  Yet it was plain these hardy men, these low-voiced women, and merry children regarded the work as something far more significant than the mere building of a cabin.  After a while he understood the meaning of the scene.  A kindred spirit, the spirit of the pioneer, drew them all into one large family.  This was another cabin; another home; another advance toward the conquering of the wilderness, for which these brave men and women were giving their lives.  In the bright-eyed children’s glee, when they clapped their little hands at the mounting logs, Joe saw the progress, the march of civilization.

“Well, I’m sorry you’re to leave us to-night,” remarked Colonel Zane to Joe, as the young man came over to where he, his wife, and sister watched the work.  “Jonathan said all was ready for your departure at sundown.”

“Do we travel by night?”

“Indeed, yes, my lad.  There are Indians everywhere on the river.  I think, however, with Jack and Lew handling the paddles, you will slip by safely.  The plan is to keep along the south shore all night; then cross over at a place called Girty’s Point, where you are to remain in hiding during daylight.  From there you paddle up Yellow Creek; then portage across country to the head of the Tuscarwawas.  Another night’s journey will then bring you to the Village of Peace.”

Jim and Mr. Wells, with his nieces, joined the party now, and all stood watching as the last logs were put in place.

“Colonel Zane, my first log-raising is an education to me,” said the young minister, in his earnest manner.  “This scene is so full of life.  I never saw such goodwill among laboring men.  Look at that brawny-armed giant standing on the topmost log.  How he whistles as he swings his ax!  Mr. Wells, does it not impress you?”