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
When the soldier recovered his senses, it was to wonder again at the
change that had come over the scene. The loud yells, the bitter taunts,
the mocking laughs, were heard no more; and nothing broke the silence of
the wilderness save the stir of the leaf in the breeze, and the ripple of
the river against its pebbly banks below. He glanced a moment from the
bush in which he was lying, in search of the barbarians who had lately
covered the slope of the hill, but all had vanished; captor and captive
had alike fled; and the sparrow twittering among the stunted bushes, and
the grasshopper singing in the grass, were the only living objects to be
seen. The thong was still upon his wrists, and as he felt it rankling in
his flesh, he almost believed that his savage captors, with a refinement
in cruelty the more remarkable as it must have robbed them of the sight
of his dying agonies, had left him thus bound and wounded, to perish
miserably in the wilderness alone.
This suspicion was, however, soon driven from his mind; for making an
effort to rise to his feet, he found himself suddenly withheld by a
powerful grasp, while a guttural voice muttered in his ear from behind,
with accents half angry, half exultant,--"Long-knife no move;--see how
Piankeshaw kill Long-knife's brudders!--Piankeshaw great fighting-man!"
He turned his face with difficulty, and saw, crouching among the leaves
behind him, a grim old warrior plentifully bedaubed over head and breast
with the scarlet clay of his native Wabash, his dark shining eyes bent
now upon his rifle which he held extended over Roland's body, now turned
upon Roland himself, whom he seemed to watch over with a miser's, or a
wild-cat's, affection, and now wandering away up the stony path along the
hill-side, as if in expectation of the coming of an object dearer even
than rifle or captive to his imagination.
In the confused and distracted state of his mind, Roland was as little
able to understand the expressions of the warrior as to account for the
disappearance of his murderous associates; and he would have marvelled
for what purpose he was thus concealed, among the bushes with his grim
companion, had not his whole soul been too busily and painfully occupied
with the thoughts of his vanished Edith. He strove to ask the wild
barbarian of her fate, but the latter motioned him fiercely to keep
silence; and the motion and the savage look that accompanied it being
disregarded, the Indian drew a long knife from his belt, and pressing the
point on Roland's throat, muttered too sternly and emphatically to be
misconceived,--"Long-knife speak, Long-knife die! Piankeshaw fight
Long-knife's brudders--Piankeshaw great fighting-man!" from which all
that Roland could understand was that there was mischief of some kind
still in the wind, and that he was commanded to preserve silence on the
peril of his life. What that mischief could be he was unable to divine;
but he was not kept long in ignorance.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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