The Riflemen of the Ohio: A Story of the Early Days along "The Beautiful River"Altsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander)
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The Riflemen of the Ohio: A Story of the Early Days along "The Beautiful River"
Altsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander)
Frontier and pioneer life -- Juvenile fiction; Ohio River -- Juvenile fiction
He could not run in a perfectly straight line, because he was compelled
to dodge right or left to escape the clubs, and he was not always
successful. One, a glancing blow, made his head ring, but in a moment
his will threw off the effect, and the sting of it merely incited him to
greater effort. Now the face of Girty was just before him, and the
shouting of the Indians was so loud that he could not but hear.
He saw Girty raise his club, and, quick as lightning, Henry, turning off
at a right angle, hurled himself directly at Girty, passed within the
circle of the falling club, seized the renegade's arm, and wrenched his
weapon from his grasp.
It was done in a second, but the Indian warriors near instantly sprang
for the pair. The impact of Henry's body knocked Girty to his knees and,
as he fell, the youth made a sweeping blow at him with the captured
club. Had Henry been left time to balance himself for the stroke, the
evil deeds of Simon Girty would have stopped there, and terrible
suffering would have been spared to the border. But he struck as he ran,
and, although Girty was knocked senseless, his skull was not fractured.
Henry darted away at a right angle from the line toward the forest. He
had done what was achieved a few times by prisoners of uncommon strength
and agility. Instead of continuing between the rows he had broken out at
one side, and now was straining every effort to reach the forest, with
the whole Wyandot village yelling at his heels.
Timmendiquas had seen the deed in every detail. He had marked the sudden
turn of the fugitive and the extraordinary quickness and strength with
which he had overthrown Girty, at the same time taking from him his
weapon, and his eyes flashed approval. But he was a Wyandot chief, and
he could not let such a captive escape. After a few moments of
hesitation he joined in the pursuit, and directed it with voice and
gesture.
Henry's soul sang a song of triumph to him. He would escape! There was
nobody between him and the forest, and they would not fire just yet for
fear of hurting their own people. His strength redoubled. The forest
came nearer. It seemed to reach out great green branches and invite him
to its shelter.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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