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
No one greeted him with a shot or blow as he came up, and, when his eyes
cleared themselves of water, he saw the Wyandot canoe cruising about
sixty or seventy yards down the stream, obviously looking for the dark
spot that one of them had seen upon the surface of the river. They might
look in his direction, but he believed that he was too far away to be
noticed. Still, he could not tell, and one with less command of himself
would have swam desperately away. Henry, instead, remained perfectly
still, sunk in the water up to his nostrils, one hand only yet clinging
to the raft. The Wyandots turned southward, joined their brethren from
the Kentucky shore and talked earnestly with them. Henry used the
opportunity to swim about a hundred yards further up the stream, and
then, when the canoes separated, he remained perfectly still again. In
the foggy darkness he feared most the Indian ear which could detect at
once any sound out of the common. But the Wyandot canoe returned to its
old place and remained stationary there. Evidently the warriors were
convinced that they had seen only a stump.
Henry now swam boldly and swiftly, still remaining in the middle of the
stream. He saw several lights in the woods on the southern shore, not
those of signals, but probably the luminous glow from camp fires as they
burned with a steady blaze. The Indians were on watch, and the faint
sound of two or three rifle shots showed that the night did not keep
them from buzzing and stinging about Colonel Clark's force. Yet Henry's
pulse leaped in throat and temple. He had passed one formidable obstacle
and it was a good omen. The stars in their courses were fighting for
him, and he would triumph over the others as they came.
But he checked his speed, thinking that the Indian canoes would be thick
around the mouth of the Licking, and presently he became conscious of a
great weariness. He had been in the water a long time and one could not
dive and swim forever. His arms and legs ached and he felt a soreness in
his chest. It was too dangerous to pull in to the bank at that point,
and he tried a delicate experiment. He sought to crawl upon his little
raft and lie there flat upon his back, a task demanding the skill of an
acrobat.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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