The Free Rangers: A Story of the Early Days Along the MississippiAltsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander)
General
The Free Rangers: A Story of the Early Days Along the Mississippi
Altsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander)
Frontier and pioneer life -- Juvenile fiction; Mississippi River -- Juvenile fiction
But they rowed deeper and deeper into the forest, and then, in a cluster
of trees where they could not be seen ten feet away, they stopped and
listened. Not a sound but the lapping of the water came to their ears.
"We'll take a good rest and then row Northward, still keeping in the
forest," said Henry.
They shipped their oars and drew long, deep breaths of relief and
satisfaction.
"Henry," said Shif'less Sol presently in a tone of great exultation, "have
you noticed that this is a shore enough gall-yun that we've took? We
didn't know it, but we jest boarded and sailed away with a real treasure
ship. Look!"
He opened a locker and took out two fine ornamented guns.
"What are these?" he said.
"Why, those are fowling pieces," replied Henry, "and they are of the very
best English make. We'll certainly borrow those, Sol."
"Yes, an' this end o' the locker is full o' powder an' shot fur 'em.
Thar's no lack o' ammunition, an' look here, Henry, at these!"
He took out of another locker three beautiful rapiers with polished hilts
and decorated scabbards.
"Spaniards like sech tools ez these," continued the shiftless one, "an'
they're mighty purty to look at, but ez fur me give me my good old
Kentucky rifle. At a hundred yards what chance would them things have
ag'in me?"
"We'll borrow them, too," said Henry. "We may have a use for them later
on. They're weapons that never have to be reloaded."
Sol drew forth one of the small swords and held it up. A shaft of
moonlight fell across the blade, and showed the keen edge.
"They're such fine weepins they must hev belonged to that thar Spanish
commander hisself," he said. "After all, a thing like this mightn't be bad
when you come to it right close. Mebbe Paul could handle it. You know Mr.
Pennypacker used to teach him how to swing the sword. This is how it goes:
Ah, ha! Sa ha! touched you thar! How's that my hearty!"
Shif'less Sol lunged at the night air, slashed, cut, swept his sword
around in circles, and then laughed again. But none of his exclamations
was uttered above a whisper. Henry was forced to smile.
"Put it down, Sol," he said, "and let's see what else we've got. It may be
that we've taken Alvarez's own private boat."
Sol opened the locker again, and held up a curiously shaped stone jug,
which he contemplated for a few moments. Then he took out the stopper,
smelled the contents, and looked appreciatively at his comrade.
"Henry," he said, "I'm going to risk it."
"It's no risk."
Sol turned the jug up to his lips, took a mouthful, which he held for a
moment or two, and then swallowed. After waiting a half minute he uttered
a deep sigh of content, and rubbed his chest.
"It tasted good all the way down, Henry," he said. "Here's something writ
over the label, but I guess it's Spanish, another o' them useless
tongues, an' so it tells nothin'."
"Put it back," said Henry. "It's some of those fancy liquors, but we'll
keep it for times when we're wet or cold or tired out."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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