Wild Western Scenes: A Narrative of Adventures in the Western Wilderness, Wherein the Exploits of Daniel Boone, the Great American Pioneer are Particularly DescribedJones, J. B. (John Beauchamp)
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Wild Western Scenes: A Narrative of Adventures in the Western Wilderness, Wherein the Exploits of Daniel Boone, the Great American Pioneer are Particularly Described
Jones, J. B. (John Beauchamp)
Boone, Daniel, 1734-1820 -- Fiction; Western stories; Wilderness areas -- Fiction
“Fear not,” said Glenn; “God directs all things. This violent illness,
too, may in the end be a blessing. Let us do all in our power to
restore him to health, and leave the rest to Him. I was once an ardent
student of medicine, and the knowledge I acquired may be of some
avail.”
“I will pray for his recovery,” said Mary, bowing down at the foot of
the bed.
I will pray for his recovery.
“I will pray for his recovery,” said Mary, bowing down at the foot of
the bed.
“Dod—I mean—Joe, it’s most daylight,” said Sneak, rising up and rubbing
his eyes.
“Well, what if it is? what are you waking me up for?” replied Joe,
turning over on his rude pallet.
“Why, I’m going home.”
“Well, clear out them.”
“But you’ll have to get up and shut the gate after me”
“Plague take it all, I believe you’re just trying to spoil my nap!”
said Joe, much vexed.
“No I ain’t, Joe; I’m in earnest, indeed I am,” continued Sneak;
“bekaise I hain’t been inside of my house, now, for three or four days,
and who knows but the dod—mean the—Indians have been there and stole
all my muskrat skins?”
“If they have, then there’s no use in looking for them now.”
“If they have, dod—I mean, _burn_ me if I don’t foller em to the other
end of creation but I’ll have ’em back agin. But I ain’t much afeard
that they saw my house—they might rub agin it without knowing it was a
house.”
“That’s a pretty tale,” said Joe, now thoroughly awakened, and staring
incredulously in his companion’s face.
“It’s a fact.”
“Whereabouts is your house?”
“Why, it’s in the second valley we crossed when we went after the
wolves on the island.”
“Then your skins are gone,” said Joe, “for the Indians have been in
that valley.”
“I know they was there well enough,” said Sneak; “but didn’t I say they
couldn’t find the house, even if they was to scratch their backs agin
it?”
“What kind of a house is it?”
“’Spose you come along and see,” said Sneak, groping about in the dim
twilight for his cap, and the gun Glenn bad given him.
“I should like to see it, just out of curiosity,” replied Joe.
“Then go along with Sneak,” said Glenn, who approached the fire to
prepare some medicine; “it is necessary that every thing should be
quiet and still here.”
“If you’ll help me to feed and water the horses. Sneak, I’ll go home
with you,” said Joe. Sneak readily agreed to the proposition, and by
the time it was quite light, and yet before the sun rose, the labour
was accomplished, and they set out together for the designated valley.
Their course was somewhat different from that pursued when in quest of
the wolves, for Sneak’s habitation was about midway between the river
and the prairie, and they diverged in a westerly direction. But their
progress was slow During the night there had been a change in the
atmosphere, and a constant breeze from the south had in a great measure
softened the snow-crust, so that our pedestrians frequently broke
through.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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