The Masters of the Peaks: A Story of the Great North WoodsAltsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander)
History
The Masters of the Peaks: A Story of the Great North Woods
Altsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander)
United States -- History -- French and Indian War, 1754-1763 -- Juvenile fiction
The imaginative lad felt awe but no fear. The gods at play in the
heavens would not condescend to harm a humble mortal like himself and
it was an actual pleasure because he was there to hear them. Just
before the invisible sun went over the rim of the horizon, a brilliant
red light shot for a minute or two from the west through the gray
haze, and fell on the faces of the three, sitting in silence before
their spruce shelter.
"It is Areskoui throwing off his most brilliant beams before he goes,"
said Tayoga. "Now I think the play will soon be over, and we may look
for the rain."
The crashes of thunder increased swiftly and greatly in violence, and
then, as the Onondaga had predicted, ceased abruptly. The silence that
followed was so heavy that it was oppressive. No current of air was
moving anywhere. Not a leaf stirred. The grayish haze became thicker
and every ridge and peak was hidden. Presently a sound like a sigh
came down the gorge, but it soon grew.
"We'll go inside," said Tayoga, "because the deluge is at hand."
They crowded themselves into their crude little hut, and in five
minutes the flood was upon them, pouring with such violence that some
of it forced its way through the hasty thatch, but they were able
to protect themselves with their blankets, and they slept the night
through in a fair degree of comfort.
In the morning they saw a world washed clean, bright and shining, and
they breathed an autumnal air wonderful in its purity. Feeling safe
now from pursuit, they were no longer eager to flee. A brief council
of three decided that they would hang once more on the French and
Indian flank. It had been their purpose to discover what was intended
by the formidable array they had seen, and it was their purpose yet.
They did not go back on their path, but they turned eastward into a
land of little and beautiful lakes, through which one of the great
Indian trails from the northwest passed, and made a hidden camp
near the shore of a sheet of water about a mile square, set in the
mountains like a gem. They had method in locating here, as the trail
ran through a gorge less than half a mile to the east of their camp,
and they had an idea that the spy, Garay, might pass that way, two of
them always abiding by the trail, while the third remained in their
secluded camp or hunted game. Willet shot a deer and Tayoga brought
down a rare wild turkey, while Robert caught some wonderful lake
trout. So they had plenty of food, and they were content to wait.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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