Prairie FlowersHendryx, James B. (James Beardsley)
General
Prairie Flowers
Hendryx, James B. (James Beardsley)
Western stories
It is a peculiar vagary of the human mind that in moments of greatest
stress trivialities loom large. Thus it was that with almost certain
destruction staring him in the face, the Texan's glance took in the
detail of the brand that stood out plainly upon the wet flank of the
girl's horse. "What you doin' with a Y Bar cayuse?" he cried. "With
Powder Face?" and then, the boat tilted still higher, he felt a splash
of water against his foot, and as he reached out to steady himself his
hand came in contact with the handle of the ax. Seizing the tool, he
sprang erect, poised for an instant upon the edge of the boat which was
already awash, and with the next flash of lightning, brought its blade
down upon the wire cable stretched taut as a fiddle gut. The rebound of
the ax nearly wrenched it from his grasp, the boat shifted as the cable
seemed to stretch ever so slightly, and the Texan noted with
satisfaction that the edge was no longer awash. Another flash of
lightning and he could see the frayed ends where the severed strands
were slowly untwisting. Another blow, and the cable parted. With a jerk
that nearly threw the occupants into the river the boat righted herself,
the flat bottom striking the water with a loud splash. Before Alice
realized what had happened she saw the high flung tree-roots thrash
wildly as the released tree rolled in the water. She screamed a warning
but too late. A root-stub, thick as a man's arm struck the Texan
squarely on top of the head, and without a sound he sank limp and
lifeless to the bottom of the boat.
CHAPTER IX
ON THE RIVER
For a moment the girl sat paralysed with terror as her brain grasped the
full gravity of her position. The wind had risen, and blowing up river,
kicked up waves that struck the boat with sledgehammer force and broke
over the gunwales. Overhead the thunder roared incessantly, while about
her the thick, black dark burst momentarily into vivid blazes of light
that revealed the long slash of the driving rain, and the heaving bosom
of the river, with its tossing burden of uprooted trees--revealed, also
her trembling horse, and the form of the unconscious Texan lying with
face awash in the bottom of the boat. His hat, floating from side to
side as the craft rocked in the waves, brushed the horse's heels, and he
lashed out viciously, his iron-shod hoofs striking the side of the boat
with a force that threatened to tear the planking loose.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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