The Hunters of the HillsAltsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander)
History
The Hunters of the Hills
Altsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander)
United States -- History -- French and Indian War, 1754-1763 -- Fiction
"Both Kings claim the Ohio country, which they will never see, and of
which they know nothing," said Tayoga, with a faint touch of sarcasm,
"but perhaps it belongs to the people who live in it."
"Maybe so, Tayoga! Maybe!" said Willet briskly, "but we'll not look for
trouble or unpleasant thoughts now. We three are too glad to be in the
woods again. Tayoga, suppose you scout about and see that no enemy's
near. Then we'll build up the fire, till it's burning bright, and
rejoice."
"It is well!" said Tayoga, as he slipped away among the trees, making
no sound as he went. Robert meanwhile gathered dead wood which lay
everywhere in abundance, and heaped it beside the fire ready for use.
But as Tayoga was gone some time he sat down again with his back to a
tree, taking long deep breaths of the cool fresh air, and feeling his
pulses leap. The hunter sat in a similar position, gazing meditatively
into the fire. Robert heard a rattling of bark over his head, but he
knew that it was a squirrel scuttling up the trunk of the tree, and
pausing now and then to examine the strange invaders of his forest.
"Do you see the squirrel, Dave?" he asked.
"Yes, he's about twenty feet above you now, sitting in a fork. He's a
fine big fellow with a bushy tail curved so far over his back that it
nearly touches his head. He has little red eyes and he's just burning up
with curiosity. The firelight falls on him in such a way that I can see.
Perhaps he has never seen a man before. Now he's looking at you, Robert,
trying to decide what kind of an animal you are, and forming an estimate
of your character and disposition."
"You're developing your imagination, Dave, but since I saw what you said
and did in Quebec I'm not surprised."
"Encouraged by your motionless state he's left the fork, and come a half
dozen feet down the trunk in order to get a better look at you. I think
he likes you, Robert. He lies flattened against the bark, and if I had
not seen him descending I would not notice him now, but the glow of the
coals still enables me to make out his blazing little red eyes like
sparks of fire. Now he is looking at me, and I don't think he has as
much confidence in my harmlessness as he has in yours. Perhaps it's
because he sees my eyes are upon him and he doesn't like to be watched.
He's a saucy little fellow. Sit still, Robert! I see a black shadow over
your head, and I think our little friend, the squirrel, should look out.
Ah, there he goes! Missed! And our handsome young friend, the gray
squirrel, is safe! He has scuttled into his hole higher up the tree!"
Robert had heard a rush of wings and he had seen a long black shadow
pass.
"What was it, Dave?" he asked.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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