The sagacious animal, as if perfectly understanding what was said to
him, and what his part of the work in hand was to be, crouched down like
a lion in the dark shadows of the dingle, there to wait until he should
hear his master's call. Then tightening his belt to make his knife and
hatchet more secure, and reassuring himself that Betsy Grumbo was in
tip-top "bitin' order," our hero addressed himself to the scaling of the
enemy's height. Half the ascent accomplished brought him almost to the
brow of the hill, where its slower slope abruptly ended in the steep
acclivity which he had just scaled, and here he could distinguish a
faint murmur of voices from above. He was slowly bringing himself over
the turn between precipice and slope, when a large stone, from which but
now he had lifted his foot, supposing it to be the projecting corner of
a ledge, slid slowly from its earthly socket, and with resounding din
went rolling down the steep. Whereat the murmur of voices above him
suddenly ceased, but with admirable presence of mind, while yet the
excited echoes were noising the thing from hill to hill, the black
hunter, to mislead the minds of the Indians as to the cause of the
uproar, mimicked the snarling growl of a wolf. Then he lay perfectly
still for several moments, not daring to venture farther till assured
that his cunning device had succeeded. After a brief space of silence,
which seemed to be spent in listening, the murmur of voices above him
recommenced, when he likewise recommenced his stealthy approaches. When
he had advanced so far as to be no longer able to walk upright without
risk of discovery, he threw himself prone on the ground, and like a
black-snake went crawling along on his belly, inch by inch, foot by
foot, yard by yard, warily, noiselessly, slowly--his rifle laid along
the hollow of his back. Thus painfully had he worked his way for more
than forty yards, when he found himself, almost unawares, at the very
edge of his covert. Here, peering through the leafy chinks, he could
plainly see the enemy, whose footsteps he had so long been dogging.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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