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
"I keep all my promises, Timmendiquas, and yet I confess to you that
this affair annoys me greatly. As a malignant rebel and one of the most
troublesome of our enemies, I would subject Ware to close confinement,
but two of my men are in the power of his friends, and they can take
revenge."
"De Peyster speaks wisely," said Timmendiquas. "It is well to choose
one's time when to strike."
Getting no satisfaction there, de Peyster returned to the court, where
he saw Henry walking back and forth very placidly. The sight filled him
with rage. This prisoner had caused him too much annoyance, and he had
no business to look so contented. He began to attribute the delay in the
negotiations to Henry. He, or at least his comrades, were making him
appear ignorant and foolish before the chiefs. He could not refrain from
a burst of anger. Striding up to Henry he put his hand violently upon
his shoulder. The great youth was surprised but he calmly lifted the
hand away and said:
"What do you wish, Colonel de Peyster?"
"I wish many things, but what I especially don't wish just now is to see
you walking about here, apparently as free as ourselves!"
"I am in your hands," said Henry.
"You can stay in the prison," said de Peyster. "You'll be out of the way
and you'll be much safer there."
"You're in command here."
"I know it," said de Peyster grimly, "and into the prison you go."
Henry accordingly was placed in close confinement, where he remained for
days without seeing anybody except the soldier who brought him his food
and water, and from whom he could obtain no news at all. But he would
make no complaint to this soldier, although the imprisonment was
terribly irksome. He had been an entire week within walls. Such a thing
had never happened before in his life, and often he felt as if he were
choking. It seemed also at times that the great body which made him
remarkable was shrinking. He knew that it was only the effect of
imagination, but it preyed upon him, and he understood now how one could
wither away from mere loneliness and inaction.
His mind traveled over the countless scenes of tense activity that had
been crowded into the last three or four years of his life. He had been
many times in great and imminent danger, but it was always better than
lying here between four walls that seemed to come closer every day. He
recalled the deep woods, the trees that he loved, the sparkling waters,
lakes, rivers and brooks; he recalled the pursuit of the big game, the
deer and the buffalo; he recalled the faces of his comrades, how they
jested with one another and fought side by side, and once more he
understood what a terrible thing it is for a man to have his comings and
goings limited to a space a few feet square. But he resolved that he
would not complain, that he would ask no favor of de Peyster or Caldwell
or any of them.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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