It was his province to guard the precious canoe from being taken by other fugitives.
Ben Ripley now thought only of his loved ones.

He knew the anguish his mother would suffer until she learned he was safe, and he forced his way to the spot where he had parted from her.
It was a sad experience.

Old men, women and children, with white faces, were rushing to and fro, wringing their hands and wailing, searching for those whom they never again would see in this life; crowding into the little fort, as if they knew a minute's delay would be fatal; some making for the river, into which they plunged in a wild effort to reach the eastern shore, while among the frantic masses appeared here and there a fugitive from the scene of battle, perhaps wounded and telling his dreadful story of the defeat, with all the woeful consequences that were certain to follow.
With much difficulty and some rough work the lad reached the spot where he had bidden his mother and the children goodbye, but none of the three was in sight.

They had been swept aside by the rush of the terrified people.
A cry sounded above the tumult, and before he could learn where it came from, the arms of his mother were about his neck.
"Thank Heaven! my boy is safe! You do not know what I have suffered.

I could learn nothing about you.