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
But he was rested fully now, and, sliding off his boards into the water,
he took a long survey of his situation. No break had yet occurred in the
clouds, and this was a supreme good fortune. To the east, he dimly saw
two boats, and to the south, the high black bank. No lights were visible
there, but he saw them further down the shore, where it was likely that
the majority of the warriors were gathered. Henry resolved to make
directly for the angle of land between the mouth of the Licking and the
Ohio, and he swam toward it with swift, powerful strokes, pushing his
raft before him.
He calculated that at this angle of land he would be between the two
Indian cordons, and there, if anywhere, he could find the way to Logan.
He reached the point, found it well covered with bushes, and drew the
little raft into concealment. Then he climbed cautiously to the top and
looked long in every direction, seeking to trace the precise alignment
of the Indian force. He saw lights in the woods directly to the south
and along the shore of the Licking. The way there was closed and he knew
that the watch would be all the more vigilant in order to intercept the
coming of Logan. He could not pass on land. Hence, he must pass on
water.
There were yet many long hours before daylight, and he did not hasten.
Although the water was warm he had been in it a long time and he took
every precaution to maintain his physical powers. He did not dress, but
he rubbed thoroughly every part of his body that he could reach. Then he
flexed and tensed his muscles until he had thrown off every chance of
chill, after which he lowered himself into the water, and pushed out
with his raft once more.
He turned the angle of land and entered the Licking, a narrow, deep, and
muddy stream, lined there, like all the other rivers of that region,
with high and thick forests. Ahead of him, he saw in the stream a half
dozen boats with warriors, yet he continued his course towards the
cordon, keeping his float very close to the western banks. It is said
that fortune favors the daring, and Henry had often proved the truth of
it. Once more the saying held good. Clouds heavier and thicker than any
of the others floated up and plunged river and shores into deeper
obscurity. Henry believed that if he could avoid all noise, he might, by
hugging the bank, get by.
He went in so close to the shore that he could wade, but finding that he
was likely to become tangled among bushes and vines, thus making sounds
which the warriors would not fail to hear, he returned to deeper water.
Now the most critical moment of the river gauntlet was approaching. He
saw about one hundred yards before him, and directly across his course,
a boat containing two warriors. The space between this boat and the
western shore was not more than thirty yards. Could he pass them,
unseen? The chances were against it, but he resolved to try.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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