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
"A man has to sleep some time or other," said Robert, "or at least a
white man must. We're not all like an Iroquois; we can't stay awake
forever if need be."
"If one goes to the land of Tarenyawagon when his enemies are at hand
he must pay the price, Dagaeoga, and now the price that Garay is going
to pay will be a high one. Surely Manitou has delivered him, helpless,
into our hands. Come, we will go closer."
They crept through the bushes until they could have reached out and
touched the spy with the muzzles of their rifles, and still he did not
stir. Into that heavy and weary brain, plunged into dulled slumbers,
entered no thought of a stalking foe. The fire sank and the bent
back sagged a little lower. Garay had traveled hard and long. He was
anxious to get back to Albany with what he knew, and he felt sure that
the northern forests contained only friends. He had built his fire
without apprehension, and sleep had overtaken him quickly.
A fox stirred in the thicket beyond the fire and looked suspiciously
at the coals and the still figure beyond them. He did not see the
other two figures in the bushes but his animosity as well as his
suspicion was aroused. He edged a little nearer, and then a slight
sound in the thicket caused him to creep back. But he was an inquiring
fox, and, although he buried himself under a bush, he still looked,
staring with sharp, intent eyes.
He saw a shadow glide from the thicket, pick up the rifle of Garay
which leaned against the fallen log, and then glide back, soundless.
The curiosity of the fox now prevailed over his suspicion. The shadow
had not menaced him, and his vulpine intelligence told him that he was
not concerned in the drama now about to unfold itself. He was merely a
spectator, and, as he looked, he saw the shadow glide back and crouch
beside the sleeping man. Then a second shadow came and crouched on the
other side.
What the fox saw was the approach of Robert and Tayoga, whom some
whimsical humor had seized. They intended to make the surprise
complete and Robert, with a memory of the treacherous shot in Albany,
was willing also to fill the soul of the spy with terror. Tayoga
adroitly removed the pistol and knife from the belt of Garay, and
Robert touched him lightly on the shoulder. Still he did not stir, and
then the youth brought his hand down heavily.
Garay uttered the sigh of one who comes reluctantly from the land of
sleep and who would have gone back through the portals which were only
half opened, but Robert brought his hand down again, good and hard.
Then his eyes flew open and he saw the calm face beside him, and the
calm eyes less than a foot away, staring straight into his own.
It must be an evil dream, he thought at first, but it had all the
semblance of reality, and, when he turned his head in fear, he saw
another face on the other side of him, carved in red bronze, it too
only a foot away and staring at him in stern accusation.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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