American fiction -- 19th century; Historical fiction; Indians of North America -- Fiction
After a moment's reflection, le Bourdon was better satisfied with this
new station than he had been on first gaining it. To have ventured on
such a near approach to his enemies, he would have regarded as madness;
but now he was there, well concealed among the rice, he enjoyed the
advantages of observation it gave him, and looked upon the chance that
brought him there as lucky. He found a thong of buckskin, and fastened
his canoe to the stalks of the plant, thus anchoring or mooring his
little bark, and leaving himself at liberty to move about in it. The
rice was high enough to conceal him, even when erect, and he had some
difficulty in finding places favorable to making his observations
through it. When the bee-hunter made his way into the bow of his canoe,
however, which he did with a moccasined and noiseless foot, he was
startled at perceiving how small was his cover. In point of fact, he was
now within three feet of the inner edge of the rice-plant, which grew
within ten feet of the shore, where the two warriors already mentioned
were still standing, in close communication with each other. Their faces
were turned toward the fire, the bright light from which, at times,
streamed over the canoe itself, in a way to illumine all it contained.
The first impulse of le Bourdon, on ascertaining how closely he had
drifted to the shore, was to seize a paddle and make off, but a second
thought again told him it would be far safer to remain where he was.
Taking his seat, therefore, on a bit of board laid athwart, from gunwale
to gunwale, if such a craft can be said to have gunwales at all, he
patiently waited the course of events.
By this time, all or nearly all of the Pottawattamies had collected on
this spot, on the side of the hill. The hut was deserted, its fire got
to be low, and darkness reigned around the place. On the other hand,
the Indians kept piling brush on their new fire, until the whole of
that hill-side, the stream at its foot, and the ravine through which the
latter ran, were fairly illuminated. Of course, all within the influence
of this light was to be distinctly seen, and the bee-hunter was
soon absorbed in gazing at the movements of savage enemies, under
circumstances so peculiar.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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