Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 5
"Wilton," he said calmly to the boy, who stood near the
doorway with alarm visibly depicted on his countenance,
and looking as if he would eagerly seize a favorable
opportunity of escape, "make all haste to the fishing
party, and tell Corporal Nixon who commands it, to lose
no time in pulling down the stream. You will come back
with them. Quick, lose not a moment."
Delighted at the order, the boy made no answer, but
hatless--shoeless as he was, disappeared round the corner
of the house. Strange to say, the Indians, although they
had seemingly listened with attention to Mr. Heywood
while issuing these directions, did not make the slightest
movement to arrest the departure of the boy, or even to
remark upon it--merely turning to their chief, who uttered
a sharp and satisfied "ugh."
During all this time, Mr. Heywood and Le Noir stood at
some little distance from the Indians, and nearly on the
spot they had occupied at their entrance, the one holding
his rifle, the other his duck-gun, the butts of both,
resting on the floor. At each moment their anxiety
increased, and it seemed an age before the succor they
had sent for could arrive. How long, moreover, would
these taciturn and forbidding-mannered savages wait before
they gave some indication of overt hostility, and even
if nothing were done prior to the arrival of the fishing
party, would these latter be in sufficient force to awe
them into a pacific departure? The Indians were twelve
in number, exclusive of their chief, all fierce and
determined. They, with the soldiers, nine; for neither
Mr. Heywood nor Le Noir seemed disposed to count upon
any efficient aid from Ephraim Giles, who, during this
dumb scene, continued whittling before the Indians,
apparently as cool and indifferent to their presence, as
if he had conceived them to be the most peaceably disposed
persons in the world. He had, however, listened attentively
to the order given to Wilton by his master, and had not
failed to remark that the Indians had not, in any way,
attempted to impede his departure.
"What do you think of these people, Le Noir," at length
asked Mr. Heywood, without, however removing his gaze
from his visitors. "Can they be friendly Pottawattamies?"
"Friendly Pottawattamies! no, sare," returned the Canadian
seriously, and shrugging up his shoulders. "Dey no dress,
no paint like de Pottawattamie, and I not like der black
look--no, sare, dey Winnebago."
He laid a strong emphasis on the last word, and as he
expected, a general "ugh" among the party attested that
he had correctly named their tribe.
While they were thus expressing their conjectures in
regard to the character and intentions of their guests,
and inwardly determining to sell their lives as dearly
as possible if attacked. Ephraim Giles had risen from
his seat in the corner of the chimney, and with his eyes
fixed on the stick he was whittling, walked coolly out
of the door, and sauntered down the pathway leading to
the river. But if he had calculated on the same indifference
to his actions that the Indians had manifested towards
the boy, he was mistaken. They all watched him keenly as
he slowly sauntered towards the water, and then, when he
had got about half way, the chief suddenly springing to
his feet, and brandishing his tomahawk demanded in broken,
but perfectly intelligible English, where he was going.
"Well, I want to know," exclaimed the soldier, turning
round, and in a tone indicating surprise that he had thus
been questioned--"only goin over thar," he continued,
pointing to the haystacks on the opposite side of the
river, around which stood many cattle, "goin I guess to
give out some grub to the beasts, and I'll he back in no
time, to give you out some whisky." Then, resuming his
course, he went on whittling as unconcernedly as before.
The chief turned to his followers, and a low, yet eager
conversation ensued. Whether it was that the seeming
indifference of the man, or his promise of the whisky on
his return, or that some other motive influenced them,
they contented themselves with keeping a vigilant watch
upon his movements.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|