When Wilderness was King: A Tale of the Illinois CountryParrish, Randall
General
When Wilderness was King: A Tale of the Illinois Country
Parrish, Randall
Illinois -- Fiction
There was little danger of exposure while I advanced through the
shelter of the lodges, for I was always under partial cover. But
I waited and watched long before daring to pass across the wide
open space in the centre of which the fire had been kindled. The
torture-post yet stood there, black and charred, while the ground
beneath was littered with dead ashes. The bodies of three white men,
two of them naked and marked by fire, lay close at hand, just as they
had been carelessly flung aside to make room for new victims; yet I
dared not stop to learn who they might have been in life. The sight of
their foul disfigurement only rendered me the more eager to reach the
living with a message of hope.
I moved like a snake, dragging my body an inch at a time by firmly
grasping with extended hands the tough grass-roots, and writhing
forward as noiselessly as if I were stalking some prey. There were
times when I advanced so slowly it would have puzzled a watcher to
determine whether mine was not also the body of the dead. At length,
even at that snail's rate of progress, I gained the protection of the
tepees upon the other side of the camp, and skulked in among them. The
lodge just before me, blackened by paint and weather, must be the one
I sought. I rested close within its shadow, striving to assure myself
there was no possibility of mistake. As my eyes lifted, I could trace
in dim outline the totem of the chief faintly sketched on the taut
skin: it was the same I had noted on the brawny breast of Little Sauk.
Never did I move with greater woodland skill, for I felt that all
depended upon my remaining undiscovered; a single false move now would
defeat all hope. Who might be within, concealed by that black covering,
was a mystery to be solved only by extremest caution.
Inch by inch I worked the skin-covering of the tepee entrance up from
the ground, screwing my eye to the aperture in an effort to penetrate
the shrouded interior. But the glare of the sun was so reflected into
my eyeballs, that it left me almost blind in the semi-gloom beneath
that dark roof, and I could distinguish no object with certainty.
Surely, nothing moved within; and I drew myself slowly forward, until
half my body lay extended upon the beaten dirt-floor. It was then that
I caught a glimpse of a face peering at me from out the shadows,--the
face of Toinette; and, alas for my eager hopes of surprising her heart
and solving its secrets! the witch was actually laughing in silence at
my predicament. The sight made my face flush in sudden indignation; but
before I could find speech, she had hastily accosted me.
"Good faith, Master Wayland! but I greet you gladly!" she said, and
her soft hand was warm upon mine; "yet it truly caused me to smile to
observe the marvellous caution with which you came hither."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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