The Keepers of the Trail: A Story of the Great WoodsAltsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander)
General
The Keepers of the Trail: A Story of the Great Woods
Altsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander)
Wilderness areas -- Fiction
"Don't let your knees buckle," said Shif'less Sol. "Good knees are
mighty important, jest now, 'cause you know, Jim, we'll hev to make a
pow'ful good run fur it, an' ef your legs give out I'll hev to stay back
with you."
"I know you would, Sol, but that creepy feelin' 'bout my knees don't
weaken the muscles an' j'ints. Runnin' is my strongest p'int."
"I know it. I don't furgit the time your runnin' saved us all when the
emigrant train wuz surrounded by the tribes."
"Down!" suddenly called Henry, and the five dropped almost flat, but
without noise, in the bushes. Two dusky figures, evidently scouts, were
running directly across their line of flight about fifty yards ahead of
them. But Henry was quite sure that the two warriors had not seen them
and the five, lying close and scarcely breathing, watched the dusky
figures. The warriors paused a moment or two, looked about them, but,
seeing nothing went on, and were quickly lost to sight in the brush.
"It was lucky," said Henry, as they rose and resumed their flight, "that
the warriors didn't look more closely. I think fortune is favoring us."
"It ain't fortune or luck," said Shif'less Sol. "It's jedgment, an' our
long an' hard trainin'. I tell you jedgment is a power."
A fierce yell arose behind them, a yell full of savagery and triumph.
"They've hit our trail in the moonlight," said Henry, "and as we have no
time to dodge or lie in cover, there's nothing to do but run faster."
"An' keep a good lookout to both right an' left," said Shif'less Sol.
"They're comin' now from all directions."
The owls now began to hoot in great numbers, and with extraordinary
ferocity. The cry made upon Paul's sensitive mind an impression that
never could be effaced. He associated it with cruelty, savagery and
deadly menace. His ear even multiplied and exaggerated the sinister
calls. The woods were filled with them, they came from every bush, and
the menacing circle was steadily and surely drawing closer.
Henry heard the heavy panting breaths behind him. They were bound to
grow weary before long. Even if one were made of steel he could not run
on forever. But he recalled that while they could not do so neither
could the warriors. His keen ear noted that no cry of the owl came from
the point straight ahead, and he concluded therefore that the circle was
not yet complete. There was a break in the ring and he meant to drive
straight through it.
"Now, boys," he said, "slow up a little to let your breath come back,
then we'll make a great burst for it and break through."
Their pace sank almost to a walk, but the beat of their hearts became
more nearly regular, and strength came back. Meanwhile the cries of the
owls never ceased. They drummed incessantly on the ears of Paul, and
made a sort of fury in his brain. It was a species of torture that made
him rage more than ever against his pursuers.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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