The Romance of Gilbert Holmes: An Historical NovelKirkman, Marshall M. (Marshall Monroe)
General
The Romance of Gilbert Holmes: An Historical Novel
Kirkman, Marshall M. (Marshall Monroe)
Black Hawk War, 1832 -- Fiction
all its parts became fixed in my brain as if it were for that and
nothing else that I had come. At the farther extremity of the room, on
a rude hearth, a dull fire burned, and above it a kettle of water
simmered. From the rafters festoons of corn hung, and near by
vegetables and pieces of venison and smoked fish. On the wall a bunch of
arrows, loosely tied, was held by a wooden peg, and beside it an Indian
bow. Below this a rifle rested. Of furniture there was none, pallets
of bear and panther skins serving alike for seats and beds. On the
floor a gourd filled with water supplied the place of pail and cup, and
in the corner a rude box answered for a cupboard. At my feet a floor
hard as flint glistened in the dim light like polished oak; and this was
all. No detail of the dark inclosure escaped me, yet while thus seeing
without consciousness, my eyes sought the help I came for, and this
fortunately, for in the twilight of the room and in lonely abandonment
an Indian woman sat. Her bent form and worn and wrinkled face told of a
life of sorrow and hardship, and my first thought was one of
discouragement; but giving it no heed, I ran to where she sat, and
grasping her hand, cried, at the top of my voice:
"Help! help me to save my father and mother who are drowning in the
river, and quick, before it’s too late!"
At this she looked up as if not fully understanding, but upon repeating
my appeal, she rose to her feet, saying slowly, as if not accustomed to
the tongue, but plainly as one could wish:
"What has happened to the white-faced child?"
"The ferryboat’s upset, and they’re in the river; but we can reach them
before it’s too late, if you’ll come with me, and quick," I answered,
grasping her hand.
"The white child’s mother’s in the water?" she answered, interrogating
me and pointing toward the river.
"Yes, my father and mother; and quick, please, or it’ll be too late," I
answered, in a frenzy of haste. Comprehending at last, she answered,
and now with animation and a wish to aid me:
"Yes, yes, my child; I’ll come, I’ll come."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account