Molly McDonald: A Tale of the Old FrontierParrish, Randall
General
Molly McDonald: A Tale of the Old Frontier
Parrish, Randall
Women pioneers -- Fiction
It was a wild, desolate scene, the dull gray sky overhead, the black
and white shading below. Mile on mile the picture unrolled to the
horizon, the vista widening slowly as the light increased, bringing
forth the details of barren, wind-swept ridges and shallow valleys
choked with snow. Not a tree, not a shrub, not even a rock broke the
dead monotony. All was loneliness and silence. The snow lay gleaming
and untrampled, except as here and there a dull brown patch of dead
grass darkened the side of a hill. Hamlin shadowed his eyes with
gloved hands, studying intently inch by inch the wide domain. Suddenly
he arose in his stirrups, bending eagerly forward.
"By heaven! There they are, Hughes," he exclaimed, feeling the hot
blood course through his veins. "See, on the incline of that third
ridge. There is a shadow there, and they are not moving. Here; draw
in back of me; now you can see. It looks as though they had a horse
down."
Hughes stared long in the direction indicated, his eyes narrowed into
mere slits.
"Ah! that's it," he said at last. "Horse broke a leg; shot it jest
then--I seen the flash. Now they 're goin' on. See! One fellow
climbin' up behind 'nother, an' the horse left lyin' thar on the snow."
"How many people do you make out?" and Hamlin's voice shook a little.
"There's four, ain't there?"
At that distance the fugitives looked like mere black dots. It could
scarcely be determined that they moved, and yet their outlines were
distinct against the background of white snow, while the two watchers
possessed the trained vision of the plains. Hughes answered after a
deliberate inspection, without so much as turning his head.
"Thar's four; leastwise thar was four hosses, and two--the Injuns
likely--are ridin' double. Thar animals are 'bout played, it looks ter
me--just able ter crawl. Ain't had no fodder is 'bout the size o' it.
We ought to be able ter head thet bunch off 'fore they git to the
Canadian at thet rate o' travel--hey, Sergeant?"
Hamlin's eyes followed the long sweep of the cross-ridge, studying its
trend, and the direction of the intervening valleys. Once down on the
other slope all this extensive view would be hidden; they would have to
ride blindly, guessing at the particular swale along which those others
were advancing. To come to the summit again would surely expose them
to those keen Indian eyes. They would be searching the trail ahead
ceaselessly, noting every object along the crests of the ridges.
However, if the passage around was not blocked with snow, they ought to
attain the junction in ample time. With twice as far to travel, their
ponies were strong and fit, and should win out against Le Fevre's
starved beasts. He waved his gloved hand.
"We 'll try it," he said shortly; "come on, Hughes."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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