The Border Watch: A Story of the Great Chief's Last StandAltsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander)
General
The Border Watch: A Story of the Great Chief's Last Stand
Altsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander)
Frontier and pioneer life -- Juvenile fiction
Henry, very proud to serve as the lieutenant of such a man, rose from
his log and the two went among the men. Everyone was ready with loaded
weapons. Many had wounds, but they had tied them up, and, rejoicing now
in their log fortifications, they waited with impatience the Indian
onset. Henry returned to his place. A red flare of lightning showed his
eager comrades all about him, their tanned faces, set and lean, every
man watching the forest. But after the lightning, the night, heavy with
clouds, swept down again, and it seemed to Henry that it was darker than
ever. He longed for the dawn. With the daylight disclosing the enemy,
and helping their own aim, their log fortress would be impregnable.
Elsewhere the battle seemed to be dying. The shots came in irregular
clusters, and the war whoop was heard only at intervals. Directly in
front of them the silence was absolute and Henry's rapid mind divined
the reason for all these things. Girty and Timmendiquas were assembling
their main force there and they, too, would rely upon surprise and the
irresistible rush of a great mass. He crawled over to Boone and told him
his belief. Boone nodded.
"I think you are right," he said, "an' right now I'll send a messenger
back to Colonel Clark to be ready with help. The attack will come soon,
because inside of an hour you'll see dawn peeping over the eastern
trees."
Henry crawled back to his comrades and lay down with them, waiting
through that terrible period of suspense. Strain their ears as they
would, they could hear nothing in front. If Timmendiquas and Girty were
gathering their men there, they were doing it with the utmost skill and
secrecy. Yet the watch was never relaxed for an instant. Every finger
remained on the trigger and every figure was taut for instant action.
A half hour had passed. In another half hour the day would come, and
they must fight when eyes could see. The lightning had ceased, but the
wind was moaning its dirge among the leaves, and then to Henry's ears
came the sound of a soft tread, of moccasined feet touching the earth
ever so lightly.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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