The Ranger; Or, The Fugitives of the BorderEllis, Edward Sylvester
General
The Ranger; Or, The Fugitives of the Border
Ellis, Edward Sylvester
Frontier and pioneer life -- Ohio -- Fiction
"Well, should you see him, tell him of my situation; and--and--tell him
not to run into danger for my sake."
"I will," rejoined Zeb, fervently.
Here a savage, judging that matters had gone far enough, jerked the
negro rudely back.
"You needn't be so spiteful," retorted Zeb; "she's told me all she's
agwine to."
Rosalind had done so; nothing further passed between them.
Toward morning they reached the banks of a stream, where the savages
divided into two parties. The one which retained the negro started down
the Ohio, while those who held Rosalind continued their journey in a
southerly direction.
The course of the former has already been given, and also a part of
their doings. The latter, which numbered twenty, experienced nothing
worthy of record for a considerable time. They moved forward rapidly,
as they had some fears of pursuit. This was their reason for retaining
Rosalind with them. They were cunning enough to know that what efforts
might be made would be for her sake, while probably the negro would be
left to himself.
Their progress south continued until Rosalind knew that she was many
miles in Kentucky. They had kept along the banks of a river during the
whole time, which she also knew to be the Big Sandy. From this she
judged that her captors were a tribe, or at least a part of one, which
belonged many miles distant from where her home had been.
Throughout all her trials, Rosalind relied upon Providence with a firm,
unshaken faith. Although hope dawned but faintly upon her, she murmured
not. Her fears were great for others beside herself. She was young, and
her youthful blood coursed through her veins, bearing with it the
pleasures and hopes of life just commenced. It was hard to die, hard to
give up the hopes which had only begun to dawn in her bosom; yet, if it
was His will, she felt that she could go without a murmur. "Thy will be
done," was the prayer which but herself and Heaven heard.
CHAPTER V.
THE MEETING ON THE RIVER.
For some minutes after Zeb's disappearance, Leslie remained without
moving, scarcely breathing for fear there might still be some Indians
overhead; but as minute after minute wore by, and no sound above warned
him that his enemies were in the vicinity, he managed to creep from his
hiding-place and seat himself upon a rock near by.
Now that he was safe for the present, he began to examine his wounds.
There being no strong emotion to occupy his mind, the pain again came
upon him, and he feared that he might be dangerously hurt; but, upon
examination he was gratified to see that he was only bruised in two or
three places. In falling, he had first struck upon his feet; his side,
from the force of the concussion, came rather violently in contact with
the jagged, projecting rocks. This gave a few severe flesh-cuts, which,
for the time being, were more painful and distressing than would have
been a wound of a more serious character.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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