The Pioneer Boys of the Mississippi; or, The Homestead in the WildernessRathborne, St. George
General
The Pioneer Boys of the Mississippi; or, The Homestead in the Wilderness
Rathborne, St. George
Frontier and pioneer life -- Juvenile fiction; Mississippi River -- Juvenile fiction
Several times Sandy would rush outside to ascertain whether Pat had
shown up as yet. He had no eyes just then for the cosy interior of the
new cabin. Later on, when this load had been taken off Sandy's mind, he
would think just as highly as any one of the delightful comforts to be
enjoyed beside the family hearth. Just now he could think of nothing
but the miserable deed of those French trappers, and the fact that one
of them was even at that moment wearing the valuable belt of wampum.
The great Pontiac had bestowed this upon Sandy, because it had been a
bullet from his gun that had pierced the arm of a madman who was about
to bring down a war-club on the sachem's head.
The afternoon was going all too fast to suit Sandy. It would be dark
before three hours, and then how could they overtake the Frenchmen,
who, given such a long start, would get beyond their reach?
More than ever did he long to once again lay his hands, as the rightful
owner, on that beautiful belt of sacred shells, which bore the
well-known totem of the big chief under whom the various tribes had
united against the palefaces.
Almost a full hour was lost in this way. Then Pat came sauntering in,
never dreaming how his absence had fretted the boys.
Quickly he was made acquainted with the situation; and, no sooner
had he heard about the two Frenchmen, and how they had treated Kate
Armstrong, than Pat was on fire to take to the war-path.
So he and the two boys left the settlement. They headed directly for
the spot described by Kate as the place where she had been surprised by
Jacques and his equally bold companion.
Once there, the trained vision of Pat O'Mara quickly found the tracks
made by the moccasins of the men. They followed them to the edge of the
water, where according to the mark made by the prow of the dugout, it
was plainly seen that the boat had been shoved out into the river.
Pat took up the trail from that point, and followed it very much as a
trained hound might have done; only the sense of sight had to serve him
rather than that of scent.
Close at his heels came the two boys, each with his rifle held in
readiness for instant use, in case the enemy were sighted. They could
not tell but that the reckless Frenchmen might have concluded to hover
around, and wait to see if any of the hated English settlers tried to
follow them.
But, as the afternoon wore on, and they kept making steady progress
away from the river, they came to the conclusion that Jacques and Henri
must have had some scheme in mind of cutting off a great bend in the
river, the existence of which was well known to them. By making this
straight cut across country, perhaps they were saving themselves many
miles' tramp.
All of this was of course based upon the supposition that they meant to
keep on heading into the south, and perhaps reaching the lower country
at New Orleans.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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