Historical fiction; King Philip's War, 1675-1676 -- Fiction; War stories
The unconcern of her husband was even more strikingly true, than the
simple language of his wife would appear to convey. Content had not only
laid aside his weapon, but he had resumed his seat near the fire, with an
air as calm, as assured, and it might have seemed to one watchfully
observant, as understanding, as her own. Until now, the stout Dudley had
remained leaning on his piece, immovable and apparently unconscious as a
statue. But, following the injunctions of one he was accustomed to obey,
he placed the musket against the wall, with the care of a hunter, and then
running a hand through his shaggy locks, as though the action might
quicken ideas that were never remarkably active, he bluntly exclaimed--
"An armed hand is well in these forests, but an armed heel is not less
wanting to him who would push a roadster from the Connecticut to the
Wish-Ton-Wish, between a rising and a setting sun! The stranger no longer
journeys in the saddle, as is plain by the sign that his boot beareth no
spur. When he worried, by dint of hard pricking, the miserable hack that
proved food for the wolves, through the forest, he had better
appointments. I saw the bones of the animal no later than this day. They
have been polished by fowls and frost, till the driven snow of the
mountains is not whiter!"
Meaning and uneasy, but hasty glances of the eye were exchanged between
Content and Ruth, as Eben Dudley thus uttered the thoughts which had been
suggested by the unexpected return of the stranger.
"Go you to the look-out at the western palisadoes," said the latter; "and
see if perchance the Indian may not be lurking near the dwellings, ashamed
of his delay, and perchance fearful of calling us to his admission. I
cannot think that the child means to desert us, with no sign of kindness,
and without leave-taking."
"I will not take upon me to say, how much or how little of ceremony the
youngster may fancy to be due to the master of the valley and his kin; but
if not gone already, the snow will not melt more quietly in the thaw, than
the lad will one day disappear. Reuben Ring, thou hast an eye for light or
darkness; come forth with me, that no sign escape us. Should thy sister,
Faith, make one of our party, it would not be easy for the red-skin to
pass the clearing without a hail."
"Go to," hurriedly answered the female; "it is more womanly that I tarry
to see to the wants of him who hath journeyed far and hard, since the
rising of the sun. If the boy pass thy vigilance, wakeful Dudley, he will
have little cause to fear that of others."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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