Winona : $b A tale of Negro life in the South and SouthwestHopkins, Pauline E. (Pauline Elizabeth)
General
Winona : $b A tale of Negro life in the South and Southwest
Hopkins, Pauline E. (Pauline Elizabeth)
African Americans -- Southern States -- Fiction; African Americans -- Southwestern States -- Fiction
“Oh, I been pretty near you right along,” replied the Parson, not a
whit hurried or excited by the interest of his audience. “That night on
the road with young Maxwell was a terrible one. They caught me off my
guard for the first time in my life. I was filled with shot and left
for dead. Next morning Reynolds got wind of the proceedings and went
out to find my remains and give me a decent burial. I was breathing
when he got me. That settled it. He toted me on his back to his house
and hid me in his loft, and there I lay eight long weeks and every one
thinking me dead. Boys, it was a close shave, and when I thought of
my wife and children it was tough, turrible tough on the old man, but
I left them in the hands of that God who has never failed me yet, and
here I am right side up with care, and the old woman and kids safe and
hearty here in your camp.” He ended solemnly, and the men doffed their
ragged hats in humble homage.
“Amen!” said Captain Brown. “All’s well that ends well,” and they
continued their tramp up the mountainside to the cave.
Impelled by a morbid fascination, Judah climbed down the mountain path
seeking the bed of the stream below where lay the body of his foe.
CHAPTER XVI.
All through the long morning Winona patrolled her beat listening with
anxious heart to the sounds of distant firing which the breeze brought
to her ears from time to time. At noon one of Captain Brown’s daughters
brought her coffee; it was the only break in her solitary vigil. She
scanned the horizon with anxious eyes, but having no field-glass was
unable to distinguish friend from foe among the figures scarcely
discernible with the naked eye.
In the dim vistas of the woods it was cool and shady, but the sun beat
down mercilessly upon the sides of the cliff, and as she watched the
shifting rays she wondered how the battle went in sickening dread,
and then rebuked her own impatience for news. As the hours wore on,
the shadows began to lengthen; their long fingers crossed the hills
pointing darkly toward the river. The girl was unhappy and fearful
in her mind; yet she tried to comfort herself, but for a time her
firm head played her false enough to picture flames leaping from the
woods, from the low roofs of the huts amid the corn-stalks, and little
children under merciless hoofs, and the awful tumult of flight for
life. That was no more than they must expect if the Rangers won. “But
they won’t win!” she thought, with a brave smile on her face and a
heavy heart in her bosom.
Overcome at length by the restless fever within, she determined to
risk all in an endeavor to obtain news of her friends--of Warren. She
started toward the battle line about the time Judah met Thomson on
another spur of the mountain. Reaching the stream Winona followed the
bed for some distance in the shadow of the cliff.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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