Custer's Last Shot; or, The Boy Trailer of the Little Horn — John Shaqi
Custer's Last Shot; or, The Boy Trailer of the Little HornTravers, J. M., Col.
General
Custer's Last Shot; or, The Boy Trailer of the Little Horn
Travers, J. M., Col.
Custer, George A. (George Armstrong), 1839-1876 -- Fiction; Dime novels; Little Bighorn, Battle of the, Mont., 1876 -- Fiction
The silver crescent still held forth in the western sky, and its meager
light, augmented by the united force of stars, proved sufficient to see
the opposite shore of the river, which at this point was rather narrow.
Could the boy's mental faculties have given him warning that it was not
a common foe he was about to see?
There have been many occasions when persons of fine perceptions and
susceptibility have realized, seemingly by tuition alone, that those
whom they bear no love for are in the vicinity.
With some people this delicate sense of knowing what even the eyes and
ears fail to tell becomes an art.
Many a deaf and blind man can tell, even the instant he enters the
room, whether it be occupied or not, no matter how quiet those within
may render themselves.
I only state this to defend my position when saying that young Mason
appeared to suspect that a foe of more than common caliber was
approaching.
Of course one cannot be positive as to what he thought, but at any rate
the boy leaned out further than ever, and was fully engrossed in the
steady but light dip of the paddle.
Whoever this night traveler was, his movements proclaimed him to be a
man habitually addicted to caution.
This the boy quickly discovered, for although the canoe was undoubtedly
approaching him, yet the steady dips of the paddle seemed to grow
fainter if possible, or at least no louder.
Soon, by judging from the sounds he was enabled to place the exact
position of the descending canoe, and a few seconds later a moving
object crossed his range of vision.
That this was a boat, and that this craft contained but one person,
soon became manifest as it drew nearer the concealed watcher.
The man stood erect near the stern, and held lightly poised in one hand
the long paddle he had just been using.
Even in the dim light one would think an ancient giant, or at least a
modern pocket edition of the famous Goliath whom David, the shepherd
boy, slew with a stone, had appeared.
The colossal proportions reared themselves at least seven feet high,
and being bulky in proportion the man presented a formidable aspect,
such as would at sight appall a common foe.
Mason uttered a low exclamation and gave a companion start of surprise
when the figure loomed into view; but after this one indication of his
feelings he remained as motionless as a form of bronze.
There was no mistaking that person whom he was now looking upon; even a
casual glance would have been sufficient to impress the face and figure
indelibly on any mind, and surely the eyes of hate are more susceptible
of retaining an object they dislike than others.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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