The Shadow of Victory: A Romance of Fort DearbornReed, Myrtle
General
The Shadow of Victory: A Romance of Fort Dearborn
Reed, Myrtle
Chicago (Ill.) -- Fiction; Fort Dearborn Massacre, Chicago, Ill., 1812 -- Fiction
The voice beat painfully upon his ears and his senses were confused,
but he tried to sit up. "What was the matter?" he gasped.
"Cramps, I guess--that's the usual thing. We'd better have let Major
drown and gone out together. I had a nice time getting both of you
back to shore."
Ronald continued his violent treatment until the other protested.
"Don't hit me again," he said faintly, "I'm all right!"
"Pile into your clothes, then, or you'll take cold."
He obeyed, but slowly, for he was thoroughly exhausted and movement
was difficult. Ronald was dressed long before he was, and insisted
upon helping him.
"There, now you're fixed," he said, at length; "and if you're good for
it, we'll go back to the bank and sit down a bit. There's no hurry
about going home."
Forsyth was faint when they reached the tall tree they had started
from, and was more than willing to rest. His speech was still thick,
but he stammered his thanks.
"You owe it to Major," explained Ronald, diffidently, "for I never
would have seen you. He started out, all of a sudden, and I went after
him. Of course I wondered what had happened when I didn't see you, but
I thought you were swimming under water. He found you, though. Good
old boy," he added, patting the dog.
"I'm much obliged to both of you," said Robert weakly. "I've been
in the water more or less all my life, and nothing like that ever
happened to me before."
"Hope it won't again--the first time came mighty near being the last."
Forsyth had more strength than he appeared to have, but the shock was
severe. "There's no hurry," said George, "and we won't go back till
you're ready for a long walk. Say, how did you feel?"
"Why, I don't know exactly. I was all right, and I was thinking what
a glorious swim I was having and how fine the water was, when all at
once I couldn't move, and everything was black. I think I called you,
though."
"Didn't hear you, but I guess the dog did. Queer, isn't it, that
it should come just after we had been talking about death and the
hereafter and so on?"
"Perhaps it was a warning."
"You're superstitious, now," returned Ronald; "but there's no getting
out of it--when we get near the jumping-off place it makes us feel
devilish queer. I was nearly crazy when I got you to shore and found
you were dead--the thing came so quick, why, it was like a stroke of
lightning."
"If that's death, though, it's nothing to be afraid of. Everything was
black and soft, and there was no hurt to it--just a stop."
"Do you know," said the Ensign, "I've never seen very many dead
people, and I've never seen anybody who had been killed in an
accident--suddenly, you know. Those fellows up at Lee's were the
nearest to it, but I didn't see them." His face whitened and his hands
clenched instinctively. "God!" he breathed, between his set teeth, "I
hope I'll be spared a death like that, at the hands of the red devils.
I want to die like a soldier--in battle!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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