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
When Sneak opened the door, the sun had risen and was shining brightly.
In a moment the inmates of the house were stirring. The horses neighed
in the stable for their accustomed food and water, and when Joe
hastened to them, he embraced the neck of each, in testimony of his joy
that they were once more saved from the hands of the Indians. The
hounds pranced round Boone and Glenn, manifesting their delight in
being relieved of the presence of the enemy. The gate was thrown open,
and the scene of the explosion minutely examined. Fortunately the
channel cut under the snow by the savages ran a few feet apart from the
powder, or the whole of them must inevitably have perished. As it was,
not a single one lost his life, though many were blown up in the air to
a considerable height. Joe and Sneak found only a few spears, knives,
and tomahawks, that had been abandoned by the savages; and then they
repaired to the west side of the inclosure, where the two dead Indians
were still lying. They had scarce commenced searching their victims for
booty, when a solitary Indian was seen approaching from the upper
valley.
They had scarce commenced searching their victim.
They had scarce commenced searching their victims for booty, when a
solitary Indian was seen approaching from the upper valley.
“We hain’t got our guns!” exclaimed Sneak, pulling out his knife.
“I’ll get mine!” cried Joe, running away with all his might.
“What’s the matter?” inquired Boone, smiling, who had also seen the
approaching Indian, and was walking to where the dead savages lay,
accompanied by Glenn and Roughgrove, when he met Joe running swiftly
towards the house.
“Hang me, if the Indians ain’t coming back again,” replied Joe.
“There is but one, and he has a white flag,” said Boone, who had
discovered a small rag attached to a pole borne by the Indian.
“What can he want?” inquired Glenn.
“He wants permission to bury the dead,” replied Roughgrove.
“He’s the very rascal we let loose last night,” said Sneak.
This was true. Although the singed savage had removed some of the black
marks produced by the explosion, yet so many palpable traces of that
event were still exhibited on his person, there could be no doubt of
his identity.
The Indian came for the purpose mentioned by Roughgrove, and his
request was granted. He made a sign to a comrade he had left some
distance behind, who, in a very few minutes, was seen to approach in a
hasty though timorous pace.
“Don’t go to shooting out here!” exclaimed Sneak, hearing a clicking
sound, and the next moment observing Joe pointing his musket through
the loophole nearly in a line with the spot where he stood.
“Come in! come in! come in!” cried Joe.
“Put your gun away, and be silent,” said Glenn.
“I’ll be silent,” replied Joe, “but I’d rather stand here and watch
awhile. If they ain’t going to hurt any of us, it’ll do no harm; and if
they _do_ try to kill any of you, it may do some good.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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