Scouting Dave: The Trail HunterBowen, James L. (James Lorenzo)
General
Scouting Dave: The Trail Hunter
Bowen, James L. (James Lorenzo)
Black Hawk War, 1832 -- Fiction; Dime novels
Reluctantly Emily arose, and made her way into the outer room, where
the not over-prepossessing meal was placed upon the table. Sally and
the two Indians were awaiting the appearance of their guest. Her
entrance was the signal for a general attack upon the meal. Sally
wheeled herself into position, and opened a charge upon the edibles,
while the Indians, seizing such portions as best suited their palates,
squatted upon the ground, and swallowed rather than ate the food.
Emily shrunk from the spectacle, yet seated herself upon the block
placed for her, and managed to swallow a small quantity of the roasted
meat. Romantic Sall, meanwhile, entertained her guest with a most
incessant flow of conversation, until Emily arose, and sought the other
apartment, hoping to remain for a time undisturbed. Her solitude was of
short duration. Sally, having performed her few duties, soon entered,
and her flow of coarse remarks burst in an agonizing torrent upon the
devoted head of Emily.
Another dreary meal, very like the preceding, and the shades of evening
were falling upon the earth. She was rejoiced now, and, stealing away
as soon as possible, ensconced herself in the skins, to quiet her
sorrows in slumber.
Once she awoke, and feeling a sense of curiosity, raised her head
to listen. She heard the heavy breathing of Sally in the other bed,
and, satisfied that she slept, Emily arose, and cautiously lifted the
bear-skin which separated the apartments. A bright fire blazed in
the rough chimney. One of the savages slept, while the second leaned
sleepily against the wall. The slight noise made by the raising of the
skins startled the guard, and, looking up he saw the face of Emily
peering through the aperture. With a guttural exclamation, he left his
post and moved that way.
With a little cry of alarm, she sprung from the place, and, sinking
into her bed, lay shivering with fear. The Indian opened the skins,
thrust his tawny face through, and gazed until satisfied all was
quiet, when, with a grunt like that of a satisfied grizzly bear, he
turned away.
It was morning, and the sun was just rising above the trees, when
the captive again awoke to be startled by a wild outcry without. She
was not long in determining that something unusual had happened, as
the village was a perfect bedlam of cries and vociferations. Women
and children were abroad hurrying about in the greatest excitement.
What could it mean? Emily’s first thought was that the renegade had
returned, but a moment’s reflection convinced her this could not be the
case. She looked around for her companion. Sally had gone, and as she
was probably in the outer room, our heroine took her way thither.
Just outside the door, she was met by one of the Indian braves, who,
taking her quickly by the arm, led her into the apartment she had just
left.
“The White Bird must not leave her nest,” he said, and stood guarding
the entrance, in a manner which showed his determination.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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