The lost hunter: A tale of early times — John Shaqi
The lost hunter: A tale of early timesAdams, John Turvill
General
The lost hunter: A tale of early times
Adams, John Turvill
Adventure stories; Indians of North America -- Fiction; New England -- Fiction
before him, towards which his crossed legs were extended at full
length.
The Indian slid his hand down to the lock of the gun, and drew back
the trigger. Cautiously as it was done, he could not prevent a slight
clicking sound, which, perhaps, struck the ear of the Solitary, for he
turned his head and moved in the chair. The Indian slunk to the edge
of the window, so as to conceal his person from any one within the
room, and remained motionless. Presently he advanced his head, and
took another view. The Solitary had resumed his former position, and
was buried in profound thought. The Indian stepped back a couple of
steps, so as to allow the necessary distance between himself and the
window, and raised the rifle to his shoulder.
At that instant and just as he was about to discharge the deadly
weapon, a large rattlesnake, attracted by the warmth, or for some
other reason, glided from the opposite side of the hut towards the
outstretched limbs of Holden, over which it crawled, and resting
its body upon them, with upraised head seemed to fasten its eyes,
glittering in the fire-light, full upon the face of the startled
Indian. The effect was instantaneous. The rifle nearly dropped from
his uplifted hands, a cold sweat burst from every pore, his knees
shook, and his eyes, fixed on the snake by a fascination that
controlled his will, felt bursting from their sockets. After
preserving its attitude for a short time, the snake, as if taking
Holden under its protection, coiled itself around his feet, and lay
with its head resting on his shoe, looking into the fire. As the
snake turned away its bright eyes the spell that bound the Indian
was dissolved. An expression of the deepest awe overspread his
countenance, his lips moved, but emitted no sound, and cautiously as
he had advanced be returned to the canoe, and was soon swallowed up in
the darkness.
The abstraction of Holden must have been deep and long, for upon
recovering from his reverie, the reptile was gone. Without his
consciousness it had come, and without his consciousness departed; and
when he laid the Bible, in which he had been reading, upon the table,
he knew not either the danger he had escaped, or the means by which it
had been averted.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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