天下书楼
会员中心 我的书架

CHAPTER V. THE YOUNG WYANDOT.

(快捷键←)[上一章]  [回目录]  [下一章](快捷键→)

the next morning was a perfect day for the young hunters. the sun shone brightly from the unclouded sky, and the air was crisp and keen with the breath of autumn. the experienced eye of the father told him that there was not likely to be any change very soon, and in his mild way he congratulated his son on the prospect of the pleasant hunt that was before him and his young friends.

the agreement with the latter was that they were to wait at their home for jack, when the three would start into the interior on a hunt that was likely to last two, if not more, days. mr. gedney was not one of those who thought his boy was too young to work. there were always a number of small jobs known in the west as "chores," which it was the duty of jack to attend to, and which he dared not slight.

thus it came about that, although the boy rose at an unusually early hour, and his mother hurried his morning meal for him, yet when he started eastward along the path leading to his friends, the sun was creeping above the horizon.

the preparations for the journey were few. all the bullets that were likely to be needed had been made by mr. gedney himself several days before; the powder-horn was filled, and nothing was lacking in that line. then jack, like his father, always carried a flint and steel with him, so as to be able to start a fire when he wanted it. (the lucifer match was not invented until a good many years after.) then he had a pinch of mixed pepper and salt, wrapped in a piece of paper, and meant to be used in seasoning the game which they ate. a few other knick-knacks were stowed away in his inner pocket, and, kissing his parents "good-bye," he entered the path at the other end of the clearing, and walked briskly towards the home of his young friends.

when he reached the crossing where he shot the panthers the night before, he naturally looked for the carcases of the animals. they were not in sight, having been carried away by the current.

"they've got mighty sharp claws," jack said to himself, as he looked down at the scratches in the wood made by the beast before it dropped into the water. "it was well for me that i was able to shoot that other fellow before he could pounce upon me."

on the other side of the stream was a small area in the path, where the ground was so spongy that it showed any light imprint upon it. jack looked at the impression left by his own heavy shoe, and then uttered an expression of astonishment.

and well he might do so, for there, beside the imprint of his shoe, was that of an indian moccasin (or foot covering), made, too, since jack had passed that way the evening before.

"ah, ha," he muttered, looking keenly about him, "there are indians not far off; i wonder whether they are shawnees, hurons, wyandots, pottawatomies, or what? are they hunting for scalps or wild game?"

it would seem that the most natural thing for the boy to do under such circumstances was to turn back home and tell his father about the discovery he had made; but jack had no thought of that; he had started out for a hunt, and he was not going to let such a trifle as a few prowling indians turn him back. the young hunter noticed that the toe of the moccasin pointed eastward--that is, in the direction he himself was travelling.

"maybe the boys have seen something of him," was his thought, as he pushed along the path; "he may be some friendly warrior who has stopped to ask for something to eat."

jack gedney had not walked twenty steps beyond the bridge when he heard a fierce threshing among the trees and undergrowth, which he knew was made by an animal in its frenzied flight. the next moment a noble-looking buck broke cover on his right, less than a hundred feet away, and bounded straight across the path in front of the boy, whose trusty rifle was at his shoulder on the instant.

as the animal turned his broad side towards jack the latter sent a bullet behind the fore-leg, at the point where it was sure to tear its way clean through the heart, and shatter bone and muscle as it skimmed into the woods beyond.

the buck took two more of his tremendous bounds, as if he were unhurt, and he might have gone still farther had he not crashed straight against the trunk of a tree, from which he recoiled, and sank to the ground limp and lifeless.

jack started to run towards his prize, but recalling the warning of his father, checked himself, and re-loaded his gun before leaving the path. this was soon done, and then he broke into a trot which quickly took him to the side of the prize.

the young hunter's eyes sparkled.

"he's one of the finest animals i ever saw. hallo!----"

he was looking at the tiny red orifice where his bullet had entered, and from which the life current was flowing, when he saw the feathered tip of an indian arrow just under the fore part of the buck. seizing the front legs, he rolled the animal over on the other side.

as he did so he saw that an arrow had been driven into the side of the deer, close to where his bullet had come out.

the wound thus made must have been mortal, though, as you may know, it is almost impossible to fire a shot that will instantly bring down one of these animals.

there could be but one meaning to this--an indian had shot the buck before jack fired at it.

"of course he will claim it," thought the young hunter; "but i am not sure that it belongs to him, for from the way the deer was running it looked as if he was not going to give up for a long time, if indeed he would have fallen at all. but we shall soon know."

the cause of the last remark was the sight of the indian who doubtless fired the arrow. jack, on looking at him, saw with pleasure that he was not a full-grown warrior, but a boy who could not have been much older than himself.

the young indian wore the fringed hunting shirt, leggings, and beaded moccasins of his people, had a row of beads around his neck, a quiver of arrows over his left shoulder, and a long bow in his left hand. in the belt which clasped the waist of his deer-skin hunting shirt were thrust a tomahawk and hunting knife, so that he was as fully armed as most of his people.

the face was broad, with high cheek-bones, small twinkling bead-like eyes, broad thick nose, and retreating chin, the whole daubed with greasy yellow, red, and black paint, in the shape of circles, dots, and all sorts of hideous devices for which room could be found.

from a glance at the colours used in the dress of the indian and on his countenance, jack formed the conclusion that he belonged to the wyandot tribe, many of whom he had met.

the young indian must have believed he was a terrible-looking fellow, and that no white lad dare dispute him, for he strode along like one who knows he is master, and stopping a few steps away, pointed down at the smitten buck.

"he mine," he muttered, in good english; "me shoot him."

"so i see," calmly remarked jack. "and i shot him too."

as he spoke he pointed to the place where the ball had left the body, close to the entrance of the arrow. the indian stooped down, and with some dexterity pushed the latter through the body of the deer, drawing it out on the other side. the head of such a missile, as you can well see, is so fashioned that it cannot be drawn back after being driven into any body.

rising to his feet, the young wyandot restored the shaft to its place in his quiver, and repeated his remark:

"he mine; me shoot him with arrow."

now there was no cause for jack gedney having a dispute with the indian. the latter was welcome to the game, for jack could do nothing with it, unless to run back home and tell his father to come and claim it. it was within convenient reach, but rather than give the time that this would take, the youth would have preferred to lose several such deer.

he was anxious to join will and george, who he knew were waiting impatiently for him; but he felt very much as you would have felt had you stood in his shoes. he thought the indian was trying to bully him, and he was not willing to submit. had the wyandot asked him to let him have the game, he would have been glad to do so; but when it was not clear which of the two was the rightful claimant to the prize, the sturdy young hunter did not mean to be dictated to by a young indian whose face was painted like his. before yielding he would resist him.

先看到这(加入书签) | 推荐本书 | 打开书架 | 返回首页 | 返回书页 | 错误报告 | 返回顶部