Historical fiction; King Philip's War, 1675-1676 -- Fiction; War stories
"Truly, Eben, thy terror of the child in the block must be grievous for
one of thy manhood, else wouldst thou not watch the buildings so
narrowly," retorted Faith, laughing; for with the dexterity of her sex,
she began to feel the superiority she was gradually obtaining in the
discourse. "Thou dost not remember that we have valiant troopers, from old
England, to keep the younker from doing harm. But here cometh the brave
soldier himself: it will be well to ask vigilance at his hands, or this
night may bring us to the tomahawk in our sleep!"
"Thou speakest of the weapon of the savages!" said the messenger, who had
drawn near again with a visible willingness to share in an interview which
while he had watched its progress at a distance appeared to be growing
interesting. "I trust all fear is over, from that quarter."
"As you say, for _this_ quarter," said Eben, adjusting his lips to a low
whistle, and coolly looking up to examine the heavenly body to which he
meant allusion. "But the _next_ quarter may bring us a pretty piece of
Indian skirmishing."
"And what hath the moon in common with an incursion of the savages? Are
there those among them, who study the secrets of the stars?"
"They study deviltries and other wickedness, more than aught else. It is
not easy for the mind of man to fancy horrors such as they design, when
Providence has given them success in an inroad."
"But thou didst speak of the moon! In what manner is the moon leagued with
their bloody plots?"
"We have her now in the full, and there is little of the night when the
eye of a watcher might not see a red skin in the clearing; but a different
tale may be heard, when an hour or two of jet darkness shall again fall
among these woods. There will be a change shortly; it behoveth us
therefore to be on our guard."
"Thou thinkest then, truly, that there are outlyers waiting for the
fitting moment?" said the officer, with an interest so marked, as to cause
even the but-half-pacified Faith to glance an arch look at her companion,
though he still had reason to distrust a wilful expression that lurked in
the corner of her eyes, which threatened at each moment to contradict his
relation of the sinister omens.
"There may be savages lying in the hills, at day's journey in the forest;
but they know the aim of a white man's musket too well, to be sleeping
within reach of its range. It is the nature of an Indian to eat and sleep
while he has time for quiet, and to fast and murder when the killing hour
hath come."
"And what call you the distance to the nearest settlement on the
Connecticut?" demanded the other with an air so studiously indifferent as
to furnish an easy clue to the inner workings of his mind.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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