[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
the woods sounded clearly on the quiet air. Joe would not have given heed to
it had he been less attentive. He instantly associated this peculiar bird-note
with the sudden stiffening of Silvertip's body and his attitude of intense
listening. Low exclamations came from the braves as they bent to catch the
lightest sound. Presently, above the murmur of the gentle fall of water over
the stones, rose that musical note once more. It was made by a bird, Joe
thought, and yet, judged by the actions of the Indians, how potent with
meaning beyond that of the simple melody of the woodland songster! He turned,
half expecting to see somewhere in the tree-tops the bird which had wrought so
sudden a change in his captors. As he did so from close at hand came the same
call, now louder, but identical with the one that had deceived him. It was an
answering signal, and had been given by Silvertip.
Page 26
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
It flashed into Joe's mind that other savages were in the forest; they had
run across the Shawnees' trail, and were thus communicating with them. Soon
dark figures could be discerned against the patches of green thicket; they
came nearer and nearer, and now entered the open glade where Silvertip stood
with his warriors.
Joe counted twelve, and noted that they differed from his captors. He had
only time to see that this difference consisted in the head-dress, and in the
color and quantity of paint on their bodies, when his gaze was attracted and
riveted to the foremost figures.
The first was that of a very tall and stately chief, toward whom Silvertip
now advanced with every show of respect. In this Indian's commanding stature,
in his reddish-bronze face, stern and powerful, there were readable the
characteristics of a king. In his deep-set eyes, gleaming from under a
ponderous brow; in his mastiff-like jaw; in every feature of his haughty face
were visible all the high intelligence, the consciousness of past valor, and
the power and authority that denote a great chieftain.
The second figure was equally striking for the remarkable contrast it
afforded to the chief's. Despite the gaudy garments, the paint, the fringed
and beaded buckskin leggins all the Indian accouterments and garments which
bedecked this person, he would have been known anywhere as a white man. His
skin was burned to a dark bronze, but it had not the red tinge which
characterizes the Indian. This white man had, indeed, a strange physiognomy.
The forehead was narrow and sloped backward from the brow, denoting animal
instincts. The eyes were close together, yellowish-brown in color, and had a
peculiar vibrating movement, as though they were hung on a pivot, like a
compass-needle. The nose was long and hooked, and the mouth set in a thin,
cruel line. There was in the man's aspect an extraordinary combination of
ignorance, vanity, cunning and ferocity.
While the two chiefs held a short consultation, this savage-appearing white
man addressed the brothers.
"Who're you, an' where you goin'?" he asked gruffly, confronting Jim.
"My name is Downs. I am a preacher, and was on my way to the Moravian
Mission to preach to the Indians. You are a white man; will you help us?"
If Jim expected the information would please his interrogator, he was
mistaken.
"So you're one of 'em? Yes, I'll do suthin' fer you when I git back from
this hunt. I'll cut your heart out, chop it up, an' feed it to the buzzards,"
he said fiercely, concluding his threat by striking Jim a cruel blow on the
head.
Joe paled deathly white at this cowardly action, and his eyes, as they met
the gaze of the ruffian, contracted with their characteristic steely glow, as
if some powerful force within the depths of his being were at white heat and
only this pale flash came to the surface.
"You ain't a preacher?" questioned the man, meeting something in Joe's
glance that had been absent from Jim's.
Joe made no answer, and regarded questioner steadily.
"Ever see me afore? Ever hear of Jim Girty?" he asked boastfully.
Page 27
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
"Before you spoke I knew you were Girty," answered Joe quietly.
"How d'you know? Ain't you afeared?"
"Of what?"
"Me me?"
Joe laughed in the renegades face.
"How'd you knew me?" growled Girty. "I'll see thet you hev cause to remember
me after this."
"I figured there was only one so-called white man in these woods who is
coward enough to strike a man whose hands are tied."
"Boy, ye're too free with your tongue. I'll shet off your wind." Girty's
hand was raised, but it never reached Joe's neck.
The big Indian had an hour or more previous cut Joe's bonds, but he still
retained the thong which was left attached to Joe's left wrist. This allowed
the young man free use of his right arm, which, badly swollen or not, he
brought into quick action.
When the renegade reached toward him Joe knocked up the hand, and, instead
of striking, he grasped the hooked nose with all the powerful grip of his
fingers. Girty uttered a frightful curse; he writhed with pain, but could not
free himself from the vise-like clutch. He drew his tomahawk and with a scream
aimed a vicious blow at Joe. He missed his aim, however, for Silvertip had
intervened and turned the course of the keen hatchet. But the weapon struck
Joe a glancing blow, inflicting a painful, though not dangerous wound.
The renegade's nose was skinned and bleeding profusely. He was frantic with
fury, and tried to get at Joe; but Silvertip remained in front of his captive
until some of the braves led Girty into the forest, where the tall chief had
already disappeared. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl wyciskamy.pev.pl
the woods sounded clearly on the quiet air. Joe would not have given heed to
it had he been less attentive. He instantly associated this peculiar bird-note
with the sudden stiffening of Silvertip's body and his attitude of intense
listening. Low exclamations came from the braves as they bent to catch the
lightest sound. Presently, above the murmur of the gentle fall of water over
the stones, rose that musical note once more. It was made by a bird, Joe
thought, and yet, judged by the actions of the Indians, how potent with
meaning beyond that of the simple melody of the woodland songster! He turned,
half expecting to see somewhere in the tree-tops the bird which had wrought so
sudden a change in his captors. As he did so from close at hand came the same
call, now louder, but identical with the one that had deceived him. It was an
answering signal, and had been given by Silvertip.
Page 26
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
It flashed into Joe's mind that other savages were in the forest; they had
run across the Shawnees' trail, and were thus communicating with them. Soon
dark figures could be discerned against the patches of green thicket; they
came nearer and nearer, and now entered the open glade where Silvertip stood
with his warriors.
Joe counted twelve, and noted that they differed from his captors. He had
only time to see that this difference consisted in the head-dress, and in the
color and quantity of paint on their bodies, when his gaze was attracted and
riveted to the foremost figures.
The first was that of a very tall and stately chief, toward whom Silvertip
now advanced with every show of respect. In this Indian's commanding stature,
in his reddish-bronze face, stern and powerful, there were readable the
characteristics of a king. In his deep-set eyes, gleaming from under a
ponderous brow; in his mastiff-like jaw; in every feature of his haughty face
were visible all the high intelligence, the consciousness of past valor, and
the power and authority that denote a great chieftain.
The second figure was equally striking for the remarkable contrast it
afforded to the chief's. Despite the gaudy garments, the paint, the fringed
and beaded buckskin leggins all the Indian accouterments and garments which
bedecked this person, he would have been known anywhere as a white man. His
skin was burned to a dark bronze, but it had not the red tinge which
characterizes the Indian. This white man had, indeed, a strange physiognomy.
The forehead was narrow and sloped backward from the brow, denoting animal
instincts. The eyes were close together, yellowish-brown in color, and had a
peculiar vibrating movement, as though they were hung on a pivot, like a
compass-needle. The nose was long and hooked, and the mouth set in a thin,
cruel line. There was in the man's aspect an extraordinary combination of
ignorance, vanity, cunning and ferocity.
While the two chiefs held a short consultation, this savage-appearing white
man addressed the brothers.
"Who're you, an' where you goin'?" he asked gruffly, confronting Jim.
"My name is Downs. I am a preacher, and was on my way to the Moravian
Mission to preach to the Indians. You are a white man; will you help us?"
If Jim expected the information would please his interrogator, he was
mistaken.
"So you're one of 'em? Yes, I'll do suthin' fer you when I git back from
this hunt. I'll cut your heart out, chop it up, an' feed it to the buzzards,"
he said fiercely, concluding his threat by striking Jim a cruel blow on the
head.
Joe paled deathly white at this cowardly action, and his eyes, as they met
the gaze of the ruffian, contracted with their characteristic steely glow, as
if some powerful force within the depths of his being were at white heat and
only this pale flash came to the surface.
"You ain't a preacher?" questioned the man, meeting something in Joe's
glance that had been absent from Jim's.
Joe made no answer, and regarded questioner steadily.
"Ever see me afore? Ever hear of Jim Girty?" he asked boastfully.
Page 27
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
"Before you spoke I knew you were Girty," answered Joe quietly.
"How d'you know? Ain't you afeared?"
"Of what?"
"Me me?"
Joe laughed in the renegades face.
"How'd you knew me?" growled Girty. "I'll see thet you hev cause to remember
me after this."
"I figured there was only one so-called white man in these woods who is
coward enough to strike a man whose hands are tied."
"Boy, ye're too free with your tongue. I'll shet off your wind." Girty's
hand was raised, but it never reached Joe's neck.
The big Indian had an hour or more previous cut Joe's bonds, but he still
retained the thong which was left attached to Joe's left wrist. This allowed
the young man free use of his right arm, which, badly swollen or not, he
brought into quick action.
When the renegade reached toward him Joe knocked up the hand, and, instead
of striking, he grasped the hooked nose with all the powerful grip of his
fingers. Girty uttered a frightful curse; he writhed with pain, but could not
free himself from the vise-like clutch. He drew his tomahawk and with a scream
aimed a vicious blow at Joe. He missed his aim, however, for Silvertip had
intervened and turned the course of the keen hatchet. But the weapon struck
Joe a glancing blow, inflicting a painful, though not dangerous wound.
The renegade's nose was skinned and bleeding profusely. He was frantic with
fury, and tried to get at Joe; but Silvertip remained in front of his captive
until some of the braves led Girty into the forest, where the tall chief had
already disappeared. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]