The Road to Paris: A Story of AdventureStephens, Robert Neilson
History
The Road to Paris: A Story of Adventure
Stephens, Robert Neilson
Adventure stories; Historical fiction; United States -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Fiction
But the Wetherals were not molested by any of the Indians that roamed
the woods in small parties, in quest of the scalps of palefaces, during
the spring and summer of 1758. Often, though, there came news by horse
and canoe, and carried from settlement to settlement, from farm-cabin to
farm-cabin, of frequent depredations: how in York County Robert Buck was
killed and scalped at Jamieson's house and all the rest of its dwellers
were carried away; how, near at home, in Sherman's Valley, a woman was
horribly killed and scalped; how, in July, Captain Craig, riding about
seven miles from Harris's Ferry, was suddenly struck in the face by a
tomahawk thrown from ambush, put spurs to his horse and fled from his
yelling savage assailants, escaping by sheer speed of his animal, the
blood flowing from the huge gash cut in his cheek by the well-aimed
hatchet; how fared the soldiers who set off in search and pursuit of the
red-faced enemy, and who were none other than the hardiest of the
settlers themselves, accustomed to shoot Indians or bear, to burn out
rattlesnake nests, or to farm the ill-cleared land, as occasion might
require.
Thus the talk to which Dick Wetheral (for it was early settled that he
should be called Richard, a favorite name in his mother's family) became
accustomed, as soon as he knew what any talk meant, was of frightful
perils and daring achievements. Such talk continued throughout all his
childhood, though after 1758 the Indians were peaceful towards central
Pennsylvania until 1763.
The boy early showed an adventurous disposition. His first explorations,
conducted on all-fours, were confined to the two rooms on the ground
floor of the house, but at that stage of his career a journey to the end
of the kitchen from the extremity of the other apartment, which served
as parlor and principal bedroom, was one of length and incident. New
territory was opened to him to roam, on that eventful day when his aunt
carried him up the ladder to the loft, which was divided by a partition
into two rude sleeping-chambers, and in which he derived as great joy
from being set at large as Alexander would have drawn from the discovery
of a new world to conquer.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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