Blazing Arrow: A Tale of the FrontierEllis, Edward Sylvester
General
Blazing Arrow: A Tale of the Frontier
Ellis, Edward Sylvester
Frontier and pioneer life -- Juvenile fiction; West (U.S.) -- Juvenile fiction
He had a goodly number of miles to travel, for he was obliged to round
almost the entire circumference of the lake. He might have cut off a
large part of the distance by swimming across the water, and undoubtedly
he would have done so had not an important errand drawn him to the
extreme end.
The lake was fed by a narrow, deep stream, across which he sprang with
the ease of Wharton Edwards when leaping the gorge. A brief way farther
and he paused in front of a small structure among the rocks. It was
composed of limbs, bowlders, sticks, and the skins of animals, barely
large enough to give him room to lie down and move around.
This was the home of the strange creature, and was never entered by any
other person. Stooping down, he passed within. No light burned, nor did
he need any. A few minutes later he emerged, carrying a long bow in his
hand and a quiver of arrows behind one shoulder suspended by a thong
which passed under one armpit. These implements constituted his only
weapons, besides the knife and tomahawk, he never making use of any
firearms.
In the moonlight and shadows it was impossible for him to follow the
trail of the youths, which would have been almost invisible under the
glare of the sun; but the Indian seemed to be guided by intuition,
which, in the mentally affected, often approaches inspiration. In what
way he was able to convince himself that the young white men meant to
pass down the other side of the canyon cannot be conjectured, but that
such was his conviction was proven by his whole course of action.
The distance which the Shawanoe was obliged to journey consumed several
hours despite the speed he used, and nearly all of this time was spent
by Wharton Edwards and Larry Murphy in deep, refreshing sleep.
When the Indian approached the spot where the canoe had been abandoned
by the youths his gait became a walk, and he peered cautiously about
him. He uttered a low cry of exultation on observing the graceful
birchen structure, and began a hasty examination. The paddle lay in the
bottom of the boat, which showed no signs of injury. It might be
supposed that this gratifying discovery would have taken the edge off
the Indian's enmity, but he showed no signs of such feeling; if
possible, his anger became fiercer. He leaped away with a speed which
prevented any attempt to follow the trail, but he was proceeding on
general principles, it may be said.
It will be remembered that travelling was more difficult on the side of
the lake. Even such an expert as the Indian was forced to change his
gait from a trot to a walk. Sometimes he was in shadow and sometimes in
the moonlight. At intervals he paused, and bent over as if examining the
flinty surface for signs of footsteps of the youths. It is incredible
that he could have discovered any under the circumstances, and yet he
acted as if he did.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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