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Authors: The Spirit of the Border
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he waited to see which cub would
prove the keenest. Not one of them, however, noted anything unusual.
They sat around the fire, ate their meat and parched corn, and
chatted volubly.
The chief arose and, walking to the ladder, ran his hand along one
of the rungs.
"Ugh!" he exclaimed.
Instantly he was surrounded by ten eager, bright-eyed braves. He
extended his open palm; it was smeared with wet clay like that under
his feet. Simultaneously with their muttered exclamations the braves
grasped their weapons. They knew there was a foe above them. It was
a paleface, for an Indian would have revealed himself.
The hunter, seeing he was discovered, acted with the unerring
judgment and lightning-like rapidity of one long accustomed to
perilous situations. Drawing his tomahawk and noiselessly stepping
to the hole in the loft, he leaped into the midst of the astounded
Indians.
Rising from the floor like the rebound of a rubber ball, his long
arm with the glittering hatchet made a wide sweep, and the young
braves scattered like frightened sheep.
He made a dash for the door and, incredible as it may seem, his
movements were so quick he would have escaped from their very midst
without a scratch but for one unforeseen circumstance. The clay
floor was wet and slippery; his feet were hardly in motion before
they slipped from under him and he fell headlong.
With loud yells of triumph the band jumped upon him. There was a
convulsive, heaving motion of the struggling mass, one frightful cry
of agony, and then hoarse commands. Three of the braves ran to their
packs, from which they took cords of buckskin. So exceedingly
powerful was the hunter that six Indians were required to hold him
while the others tied his hands and feet. Then, with grunts and
chuckles of satisfaction, they threw him into a corner of the cabin.
Two of the braves had been hurt in the brief struggle, one having a
badly wrenched shoulder and the other a broken arm. So much for the
hunter's power in that single moment of action.
The loft was searched, and found to be empty. Then the excitement
died away, and the braves settled themselves down for the night. The
injured ones bore their hurts with characteristic stoicism; if they
did not sleep, both remained quiet and not a sigh escaped them.
The wind changed during the night, the storm abated, and when
daylight came the sky was cloudless. The first rays of the sun shone
in the open door, lighting up the interior of the cabin.
A sleepy Indian who had acted as guard stretched his limbs and
yawned. He looked for the prisoner, and saw him sitting up in the
corner. One arm was free, and the other nearly so. He had almost
untied the thongs which bound him; a few moments more and he would
have been free.
"Ugh!" exclaimed the young brave, awakening his chief and pointing
to the hunter.
The chief glanced at his prisoner; then looked more closely, and
with one spring was on his feet, a drawn tomahawk in his hand. A
short, shrill yell issued from his lips. Roused by that clarion
call, the young braves jumped up, trembling in eager excitement. The
chief's summons had been the sharp war-cry of the Delawares.
He manifested as intense emotion as could possibly have been
betrayed by a matured, experienced chieftain, and pointing to the
hunter, he spoke a single word.
*
At noonday the Indians entered the fields of corn which marked the
outskirts of the Delaware encampment.
"Kol-loo—kol-loo—kol-loo."
The long signal, heralding the return of the party with important
news, pealed throughout the quiet valley; and scarcely had the
echoes died away when from the village came answering shouts.
Once beyond the aisles of waving corn the hunter saw over the
shoulders of his captors the home of the redmen. A grassy plain,
sloping gradually from the woody hill to a winding stream, was
brightly beautiful with chestnut trees and long, well-formed lines
of lodges. Many-hued blankets hung fluttering in the sun, and rising
lazily were curling
prove the keenest. Not one of them, however, noted anything unusual.
They sat around the fire, ate their meat and parched corn, and
chatted volubly.
The chief arose and, walking to the ladder, ran his hand along one
of the rungs.
"Ugh!" he exclaimed.
Instantly he was surrounded by ten eager, bright-eyed braves. He
extended his open palm; it was smeared with wet clay like that under
his feet. Simultaneously with their muttered exclamations the braves
grasped their weapons. They knew there was a foe above them. It was
a paleface, for an Indian would have revealed himself.
The hunter, seeing he was discovered, acted with the unerring
judgment and lightning-like rapidity of one long accustomed to
perilous situations. Drawing his tomahawk and noiselessly stepping
to the hole in the loft, he leaped into the midst of the astounded
Indians.
Rising from the floor like the rebound of a rubber ball, his long
arm with the glittering hatchet made a wide sweep, and the young
braves scattered like frightened sheep.
He made a dash for the door and, incredible as it may seem, his
movements were so quick he would have escaped from their very midst
without a scratch but for one unforeseen circumstance. The clay
floor was wet and slippery; his feet were hardly in motion before
they slipped from under him and he fell headlong.
With loud yells of triumph the band jumped upon him. There was a
convulsive, heaving motion of the struggling mass, one frightful cry
of agony, and then hoarse commands. Three of the braves ran to their
packs, from which they took cords of buckskin. So exceedingly
powerful was the hunter that six Indians were required to hold him
while the others tied his hands and feet. Then, with grunts and
chuckles of satisfaction, they threw him into a corner of the cabin.
Two of the braves had been hurt in the brief struggle, one having a
badly wrenched shoulder and the other a broken arm. So much for the
hunter's power in that single moment of action.
The loft was searched, and found to be empty. Then the excitement
died away, and the braves settled themselves down for the night. The
injured ones bore their hurts with characteristic stoicism; if they
did not sleep, both remained quiet and not a sigh escaped them.
The wind changed during the night, the storm abated, and when
daylight came the sky was cloudless. The first rays of the sun shone
in the open door, lighting up the interior of the cabin.
A sleepy Indian who had acted as guard stretched his limbs and
yawned. He looked for the prisoner, and saw him sitting up in the
corner. One arm was free, and the other nearly so. He had almost
untied the thongs which bound him; a few moments more and he would
have been free.
"Ugh!" exclaimed the young brave, awakening his chief and pointing
to the hunter.
The chief glanced at his prisoner; then looked more closely, and
with one spring was on his feet, a drawn tomahawk in his hand. A
short, shrill yell issued from his lips. Roused by that clarion
call, the young braves jumped up, trembling in eager excitement. The
chief's summons had been the sharp war-cry of the Delawares.
He manifested as intense emotion as could possibly have been
betrayed by a matured, experienced chieftain, and pointing to the
hunter, he spoke a single word.
*
At noonday the Indians entered the fields of corn which marked the
outskirts of the Delaware encampment.
"Kol-loo—kol-loo—kol-loo."
The long signal, heralding the return of the party with important
news, pealed throughout the quiet valley; and scarcely had the
echoes died away when from the village came answering shouts.
Once beyond the aisles of waving corn the hunter saw over the
shoulders of his captors the home of the redmen. A grassy plain,
sloping gradually from the woody hill to a winding stream, was
brightly beautiful with chestnut trees and long, well-formed lines
of lodges. Many-hued blankets hung fluttering in the sun, and rising
lazily were curling
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