The passage swimmingly effected, our two adventurers made their
reaeppearance on the opposite bank, with their bulky dimensions brought
down by their wetting to somewhat lanker proportions--Grumbo with his
shaggy coat buttoned close about him, Burl with his buckskin shirt and
breeches clinging clammily to his body and limbs. But of his martial
rigging, the war-belt, with his tomahawk and hunting-knife, still
remained; the bear-skin war-cap, too, which once rammed down firmly upon
his head was never to quit that place, saving with the scalp it covered,
or with the successful winding up of his adventure.
Between him and the mouth of the glen lay a narrow strip of bottom land,
the crossing of which, overhung as it was by the very nose of the
enemy's lookout, would demand his utmost caution and address. Again
availing themselves of gully, weeds, and grass, to screen their
movements, and making their way through them as before, they succeeded
at length in gaining, undiscovered, the shelter of the glen. Here, under
the overhanging hill, Burl could walk upright, and that for the first
time since quitting the opposite rim of the valley, if we may except
when chin-deep in water he was fording the river. Down the glen, with
twisted current winding crookedly among the rocks, came bubbling a
little brook, thus serving to muffle the sound of the black hunter's
footsteps, as now with swift and powerful strides he ascended into the
depths of the hills. When he came to where the two ravines united to
form the larger glen, he took the more easterly one, which, as before
remarked, led up to a dingle just under the height where the Indians
were camped. For some distance back the trees and bushes, reaeppearing,
had grown gradually thicker and thicker, till here they shagged the side
of the hill with deep and tangled shade. So Burl found the covert which
he had promised himself for a place of ambush--a shade profound as
night, through which, with snake-like secrecy, he could crawl to within
hissing distance of the enemy, and before discovery all but bite his
heel.
"Down, Grumbo!" said the black hunter in a deep under-tone to his dog,
not daring to trust him further in the adventure till he had brought it
to the critical edge. "You wait here tell you hears me holler, den come
a-pitchin', an' let yo'se'f in like de bery ol' Scratch, an' no stoppin'
to smell noses. Do you hear?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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