Nick of the Woods; Or, Adventures of Prairie LifeBird, Robert Montgomery
General
Nick of the Woods; Or, Adventures of Prairie Life
Bird, Robert Montgomery
Frontier and pioneer life -- Kentucky -- Fiction
The soldier took advantage of this moment of tranquillity to descend to
the river to quench his thirst, and to bear back some of the liquid
element to his fainting followers. While engaged in this duty he cast his
eyes upon the scene, surveying with sullen interest the flood that cut
off his escape from the fatal hovel. The mouth of the ravine was wide and
scattered over with rocks and bushes, that even projected for some little
space into the water, the latter vibrating up and down in a manner that
proved the strength and irregularity of the current. The river was here
bounded by frowning cliffs, from which, a furlong or two above, had
fallen huge blocks of stone that greatly contracted its narrow channel;
and among these the swollen waters surged and foamed with the greatest
violence, producing that hollow roar, which was so much in keeping with
the solitude of the ruin, and so proper an accompaniment to the growling
thunder and the wild yells of the warriors. Below these massive
obstructions, and opposite the mouth of the ravine, the channel had
expanded into a pool; in which the waters might have regained their
tranquillity and rolled along in peace, but for the presence of an
island, which, growing up in the centre of the expanse, consolidated by
the roots of a thousand willows and other trees that delight in such
humid soils, and, in times of flood, covered by a raft of drift timber
entangled among its trees, presented a barrier, on either side of which
the current swept with speed and fury, though, as it seemed, entirely
unopposed by rocks. In such a current, as Roland thought, there was
nothing unusually formidable; a daring swimmer might easily make his way
to the island opposite, where, if difficulties were presented by the
second channel, he might as easily find shelter from enemies firing on
him from the banks. He gazed again on the island, which, viewed in the
gloom, revealed to his eyes only a mass of shadowy boughs, resting in
peace and security. His heart beat high with hope, and he was beginning
to debate the chances of success in an attempt to swim his party across
the channel on the horses, when a flash of lightning, brighter than
usual, disclosed the fancied island a cluster of shaking tree-tops, whose
trunks as well as the soil that supported them, were buried fathoms deep
in the flood. At the same moment, he heard coming on a gust that repelled
and deadened for a time the louder tumult from the rocks above, other
roaring sounds, indicating the existence of other rocky obstructions at
the foot of the island, among which as he could now see, the same flash
having shown him the strength of the current in the centre of the
channel, the swimmer must be dashed, who failed to find footing on the
island.
"We are imprisoned, indeed," he muttered, bitterly: "Heaven itself has
deserted us."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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