The Lords of the Wild: A Story of the Old New York BorderAltsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander)
History
The Lords of the Wild: A Story of the Old New York Border
Altsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander)
United States -- History -- French and Indian War, 1754-1763 -- Juvenile fiction
He began to move a little, to lift one foot and then the other,
careful to make no splash in the water, and the slight exercise
checked the creeping chill. Encouraged, he increased it, stopping at
intervals to listen for the approach of a foe. There was no sound
and he walked back and forth a little. Presently his eyes, trained to
observe all things, noticed a change in the air. A gray tint, so far a
matter of quality rather than color, was coming into it, and his
heart leaped with joy. Absorbed in his vital struggle he had failed to
reckon the passage of time. The day was closing and blessed, covering
night was at hand. Robert loved the day and the sun, but darkness was
always a friend of those who fled, and now he prayed that it would
come thick and dark.
The sun still hung over the eastern shores, red and blazing, but
before long it went down, seeming to sink into the lake, and the night
that Robert had wished, heavy and black, swept over the earth. Then he
left the water, and stood upon dry land, the narrow ledge between the
cliff and the waves, where he took off his lower garments, wrung them
as nearly dry as he could, and, hanging them on the bushes, waited
for the wind to do the rest. His sense of triumph had never been so
strong. Alone and relying only upon his own courage and skill, he had
escaped the fierce Tandakora and his persistent warriors. He could
even boast of it to Willet and Tayoga, when he found them again.
It was wonderful to feel safe, after great peril, and his bright
imagination climbed the heights. As he had escaped them then, so he
would slip always from the snares of his foes. It was this quality in
him, the spirit of eternal hope, that appealed so strongly to all who
knew him, and that made him so attractive.
After a while, he took venison and hominy from his knapsack and ate
with content. Then he resumed his clothing, now dried completely by
the wind, and felt that he had never been stronger or more fitted to
cope with attack.
The darkness was intense and the surface of the lake showed through
it, only a fitful gray. The cliff behind him was now a black bank, and
its crest could not be seen at all. He was eager to go, but he still
used the patience so necessary in the wilderness, knowing that the
longer he waited the less likely he was to meet the band of Tandakora.
He lay down in a thicket of tall grass and bushes, resolved not to
start before midnight, and he felt so much at peace that before he
knew he was going to sleep he was sleeping. When he awoke he felt a
little dismay at first, but it was soon gone. After all, he had passed
the time of waiting in the easiest way, and no enemy had come. The
moon and stars were not to be seen, but instinct told him that it was
not beyond midnight.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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