A \ B \ C \ D \ E \ F \ G \ H \ I \ J \ K \ L \ M \ N \ O \ P \ R \ S \ T \ U \ V \ W \Z

The Forest Runners by Joseph A. Altsheler

J >> Joseph A. Altsheler >> The Forest Runners




"And this lake ought to be full of fish," said Paul. "We might draw on it,
too, for a food supply."

"Looks likely," said Ross. "But we'd best not try that, either, till
dusk."

But they worked in the course of the day at the manufacture of their rude
fishing tackle, constructed chiefly of their clothing, the hooks being
nothing more than a rough sort of pin bent to the right shape. This done,
they spent the rest of the day in loafing and lolling about, although Paul
took a half hour for the thorough exploration of the island, which
presented no unusual features beyond those that he had already seen. After
that he came back to the little cove and luxuriated, as the others were
doing. It was the keenest sort of joy now just to rest, to lie at one's
ease, and to feel the freedom from danger. The old burying ground was a
better guard about them than a thousand men.

But when night came, Henry and Ross took out the canoe again, and Paul
asked to go with them.

"All right," said Henry, "you come with us, and Sol, you and Jim Hart can
do the fishing and the quarreling, with nobody to bother you."

"Jest my luck," said Shif'less Sol, "to be left on a desert island with an
ornery cuss like Jim Hart."

Henry, setting the paddle against the bank, gave the canoe a great shove,
and it shot far out into the lake. Paul looked back. Already their island
was the solid dark blot it had been the night before, while the waters
moved darkly under a light, northern wind.

"Sit very quiet, Paul," said Henry. "Tom and I will do the paddling."

Paul was more than content to obey, and he remained very still while the
other two, with long, sweeping strokes, sent the canoe toward a point
where the enclosing bank was lowest.

"Don't you think we'd better stay in the boat, Henry?" said Ross.

"Yes; game must be thick hereabouts, and if we wait long enough we're sure
to find a deer coming down to drink."

They cruised for a while along the shore, keeping well in the darkest
shadow until they reached a point where the keen eyes of Henry Ware saw,
despite the darkness, that many hoofs had trampled.

"This is a favorite drinking place," he said. "Back us into those bushes,
Tom, and we'll wait."

Ross pushed the canoe into some bushes until it was hidden, though the
occupants could see through the leaves whatever might come to the water to
drink, and they took up their rifles. They lay a little to the north of
the drinking place, and the wind blew from the south.

"I don't think we'll have to wait long," said Henry.

Then they remained absolutely silent, but within fifteen minutes they
heard a heavy trampling in the woods. It steadily grew louder, and was
mingled with snortings and puffings. Whatever animal made it--and it was
undoubtedly a big one--was coming toward them. Paul was filled with
curiosity, but he knew too much to do more just now than breathe.

A huge bull buffalo stumbled from the trees to the edge of the lake, where
the moonlight had just begun to come. He was a monstrous fellow, and Paul
knew by his snapping red eyes that he was in no good humor. Henry shook
his head to indicate that he was no game for them, and Paul understood.
Whatever they killed they intended to put in the canoe, and then clean and
dress it on the island. The angry monster, an outcast from some herd, was
safe.

The buffalo drank, puffing and snorting between drinks, and then stamped
his way back into the forest. Still the hunters waited in ambush. Some
other animal, with a long, sinuous body, crept down to the margin and
lapped the water. Paul did not know what it was, and he could not break
the silence to ask the others; but after drinking for a few minutes it
drew its long, lithe body back through the undergrowth, and passed out of
sight. Then nothing came for a while, because this was a ferocious beast
of prey, and to the harmless creatures of the wilderness the air about the
drinking place was filled for a space with poison.

But as the wind continued to blow lightly from the south, the dread odor
passed away and the air became pure and fresh again. Back in the deeps of
the forest the timid creatures found courage once more, and they crept
down to the water's edge to slake their thirst. But they were small, and
the ambushed marksmen in the boat still waited, silent and motionless.
Paul saw them sometimes, and sometimes he did not. Then his eyes would
wander to the surface of the lake, now pale, heaving silver in the
moonlight, and to the wall of black forest that circled it round.

A heavier step came again, and a light puff! puff! Paul knew now that a
great animal was approaching, and that the timid little ones would give it
room. He looked with all his eyes, and a magnificent stag stepped into the
moonlight, antlers erect, waiting and listening for a moment before he
bowed his head to drink. Paul almost leaped up in the boat as a rifle
cracked beside him, and he saw the stag spring into the air and fall dead,
with his feet in the water.

Henry and Ross promptly shoved the boat from the bushes, and the three of
them lifted the body into it, disposing it in the center with infinite
care. Then, with food enough to last for days, they rowed back across the
lake to the haunted island. Shif'less Sol and Jim Hart, with their rude
tackle, had succeeded in catching four fish, of a species unknown to Paul,
but large and to all appearances succulent.

"We'll eat the fish to-morrow, because they won't keep," said Sol, "but
Jim Hart here kin jerk the venison. It will give him somethin' to do, an'
Jim is a sight better off when he has to work. He ain't got no time fur
foolishness."

"An' you can tan its hide," growled Jim Hart, "although your own needs
tannin' most."

A few minutes later the two were amicably dressing the body of the stag,
but Paul was already asleep. He assisted the next morning at a conference,
and then he learned what Henry and Ross intended to do. The powder for
Marlowe, as Paul had surmised, must be left for the present in its hidden
place while they spied upon the great northern confederacy, now being
formed for the destruction of the white settlements, and they would do
what they could to impede it. Henry, Ross, and Sol would leave that night
on an expedition of discovery, while Paul and Jim Hart held the haunted
island. Paul, in this case, did not object to being left behind, because
he had, for the present at least, enough of danger, and he knew that he
was better suited to other tasks than the one on which the three great
woodsmen were now departing.

Jim Hart was to row them over to the mainland, and they were to signal
their return with three plaintive, long-drawn cries of the whip-poor-will.
They departed at the first coming of the dusk with short good-bys, leaving
Paul alone on the island. He stood near the margin under the foliage of a
great beech and watched them go. The boat, as it left a trailing wake of
melting silver, became a small black dot at the farther shore, and then
vanished.

Paul turned back toward the center of his island, inexpressibly lonely for
the while. Again he was a solitary being in the vast, encircling
wilderness, and, in feeling at least, no one was nearer than a thousand
miles away. He walked as swiftly as he could to the cove, where the supper
fire still smoldered, and he sought companionship in the light and warmth
that came from the bed of coals. No amount of hardship, no amount of
experience could change Paul's vivid temperament, so responsive to the
influences of time and place. He sat there, his knees drawn up to his
chin, and the ring of darkness came closer and closer; but out of it
presently arose the tread of footsteps, and all the brightness and
cheeriness returned at once to the boy's face.

Jim Hart walked into the rim of the firelight, and his long, thin,
saplinglike figure looked very consoling to Paul. He doubled into his
usual jackknife formation and, sitting down by the fire, looked into the
coals.

"Well, Paul," he said, "I've seen 'em off, an' a-tween you and me, I'd
rather be right here on this here haunted islan', a-hobnobbin' with Injun
ghosts an' havin' a good, comfortable, easy time, than be dodgin' braves,
an' feelin' every minute to see ef my scalp is on out thar among the Injun
villages."

"You don't think they'll be taken?" asked Paul, in some alarm.

Long Jim Hart laughed scornfully.

"Them fellers be took?" he said. "Why, they are the best three woodsmen in
North Ameriky, an', fur that, in the hull world. Nobody can take 'em, an'
if they wuz took, nobody could hold 'em. You could have Henry Ware tied to
the stake, with fifty Shawnees holdin' him an' a thousand more standin'
aroun', an' he'd get away, certain sure."

Paul smiled. It was an extravagant statement, but it restored his
confidence.

"And meanwhile we are safe here, protected by ghosts," he said. "Do you
believe in ghosts, Jim?"

Jim Hart looked up at the black rim of the forest, and then edged a little
closer to the fire.

"No, I don't," he said, "but sometimes I'm afeard of 'em, jest the same."

Paul laughed.

"That's about the way I feel, too," he said, "but they're mighty handy
just now, Jim. They're keeping us safe on this island. You won't deny
that?"

"No, I won't," said Jim; "but at night time I'm goin' to leave 'em all by
themselves in the trees over at their end uv of the island."

"So am I," said Paul; and ten minutes later both were sound asleep.




CHAPTER XI

A SUDDEN MEETING


Paul and queer, long Jim Hart spent a week together on the island, and
they were pleasant days to the boy. He was sure that Henry, Ross, and Sol
could take care of themselves, and he felt little anxiety about them. He
and Hart stayed well in the woods in the day, and they fished and hunted
at night. Hart killed another deer, this time swimming in the water, but
they easily made salvage of the body and took it to land. They also shot a
bear in the edge of the woods, near the south end of the lake, and Hart
quickly tanned both deerskins and the bearskin in a rude fashion. He said
they would need them as covers at night, and as the weather turned a
little colder, Paul found that he could use one of the skins quite
comfortably.

They built of sticks and brushwood a crude sort of lean-to against one of
the stony sides that enclosed the cove, and when a rain came they were
able to keep quite dry within its shelter. They also found rabbits on the
island, some of which they killed, and thus added further to their
larder. These labors of house-building and housekeeping kept them busy,
and Paul was surprised to find how well content he had become. Hart did
all the cooking, but Paul made amends in other directions, and at night,
when they were not fishing or hunting, they would sit by the little fire
and talk. Once about the noon hour they saw a smoke far to the south, and
both regarded it speculatively.

"Think likely it's an Injun huntin' party," said Jim Hart, "an' they don't
dream o' any white men bein' about. That's why they are so careless about
their fire, because the different tribes o' these parts are all at peace
with one another."

"How far away would you say that smoke is?" asked Paul.

"Three or four miles, anyway, an' I'm pow'ful glad this is a haunted
islan', so they won't come over here."

"So am I," said Paul devoutly.

He lay on his back on the soft turf, and watched the smoke rising away in
a thin spire into the heavens. He could picture to himself the savage
party as it sat about the fire, and it gave him a remarkable feeling of
comfort and safety to know that he was so well protected by the ghosts
that haunted the little island.

The smoke rose there all the morning, but Paul ceased by and by to pay any
attention to it, although he and Jim Hart kept well within the cove,
busying themselves with additions to their lean-to. Paul had found great
strips of bark shed by the trees, and he used these to patch the roof.
More pieces were used for the floor, and, with the bearskin spread over
them, it was quite dry and snug. Then he stood off and regarded it with a
critical and approving eye.

"You haven't seen a better house than that lately, have you, Jim?" he
said, in a tone of pride.

"Considerin' the fact that I ain't seen any other uv any kind in a long
time, I kin truthfully say I haven't," replied Jim Hart sardonically.

"You lack appreciation, Jim," said Paul. "Besides, your imagination is
deficient. Why don't you look at this hut of ours and imagine that it is a
magnificent stone castle?"

Jim Hart gazed wonderingly at the boy.

"Paul," he said, "you always wuz a puzzle to me. I can't see no
magnificent stone castle--jest a bark an' brush hut."

Paul shook his head reprovingly.

"I am sorry for you, Jim," he said. "I not only see a magnificent stone
castle, but I see a splendid town over there on the mainland."

"You talk plumb foolish, Paul," said Jim Hart.

"They are all coming," said Paul.

But Jim Hart continued to see only the bark and brush hut on the island,
and the vast and unbroken wilderness on the mainland. His eyes roved back,
from the mainland to the hut.

"Now, ef I had an ax an' a saw," he said regretfully, "I could make that
look like somethin'. I'm a good cook, ef I do say it, Paul, but I'd like
to be a fust-class carpenter. Thar ain't no chance, though, out here, whar
thar ain't nothin' much but cabins, an' every man builds his own hisself."

"Never mind, Jim," said Paul, "your time will come; and if it doesn't come
to you, it will come to your sons."

"Paul, you're talkin' foolisher than ever," said Jim indignantly. "You
know that I ain't a married man, an' that I ain't got no sons."

Paul only smiled. Again he was dreaming, looking far into the future.

The spire of smoke was still on the horizon line when the twilight came,
but the next morning it was gone, and they did not see it again. Several
days more passed in peace and contentment, and, desiring to secure more
game, Paul and Hart took out the canoe one evening and rowed to the
mainland.

They watched a while about the mouth of the brook, the favorite drinking
place of the wild animals, but they saw nothing. It seemed likely to Paul
that a warning had been sent to all the tenants of the forest not to drink
there any more, as it was a dangerous place, and he expressed a desire to
go farther into the forest.

"All right, Paul," said Jim Hart, "but you kain't be too keerful. Don't
git lost out thar in the woods, an' don't furgit your way back to this
spot. I'll wait right here in the boat and watch fur a deer. One may come
yet."

Paul took his rifle and entered the woods. It was his idea that he might
find game farther up the little stream, and he followed its course, taking
care to make no noise. It was a fine moonlight night, and, keeping well
within the shadow of the trees, he carefully watched the brook. He was so
much absorbed in his task that he forgot the passage of time, and did not
notice how far he had gone.

Paul had acquired much skill as a hunter, and he was learning to observe
the signs of the forest; but he did not hear a light step behind him,
although he _did_ feel himself seized in a powerful grasp. This particular
warrior was a Miami, and he may have been impelled by pride--that is, a
desire to take a white youth alive, or at least hold him until his
comrades, who were near, could come and secure him. To this circumstance,
and to a fortunate slip of the savage, the boy undoubtedly owed his life.

Paul was strong, and the grasp of the Indian was like the touch of fire to
him. He made a sudden convulsive effort, far greater than his natural
physical powers, and the arms of the warrior were torn loose. Both
staggered, each away from the other, and while they were yet too close for
Paul to use his rifle, he did, under impulse, what the white man often
does, the red man never. His clenched fist shot out like lightning, and
caught the savage on the point of the jaw.

The Miami hit the earth with a thud, and lay there stunned. Paul turned
and ran with all his might, and as he ran he heard the war cry behind him,
and then the pattering of feet. But he heard no shots. He judged that the
distance and the darkness kept the savages from firing, and he thanked God
for the night.

He had sufficient presence of mind to remember the stream, and he kept
closely to its course as he ran back swiftly toward the canoe.

"Up, Jim, up! The warriors have come!" he shouted, as he ran.

But Jim Hart, an awkward bean pole of a lion-hearted man, was already
coming to meet him, and fired past him at a dusky, dancing figure that
pursued. The death yell followed, the pursuit wavered for a moment, and
then Jim Hart, turning, ran with Paul to the canoe, into which both leaped
at the same time. But Hart promptly undoubled himself, seized the paddle,
and with one mighty shove sent the boat out into the lake. Paul grasped
the other paddle, and bent to the same task. Their rifles lay at their
feet.

"Bend low, Paul," said Jim Hart. "We're still within range of the shore."

Paul almost lay down in the canoe, but he never ceased to make long,
frantic sweeps with the paddle, and he was glad to see the water flashing
behind him. Then he heard a great yell of rage and the crackle of rifles,
and bullets spattered the surface of the lake about them. One chipped a
splinter from the edge of the canoe and whistled by Paul's ear, singing,
as it passed, "Look out! Look out!" But Paul's only reply was to use his
paddle faster, and yet faster.

The boy did not notice that Jim Hart had turned the course of the canoe,
and that they were running northward, about midway between the island and
the mainland; but the rifle fire ceased presently, and Jim Hart said to
him:

"You can take it easier now, Paul. We're out uv range, though not uv
sight."

Paul straightened up, laid his paddle in the boat, and gasped for breath.

"Look over thar, Paul, ef you want to see a pleasant scene," said Jim Hart
calmly.

Paul's gaze followed the long man's pointing finger, and he saw at least
twenty warriors gathered on the bank, and regarding them now in dead
silence.

"Mad!" said Jim Hart. "Mad clean through!"

"They've chased us on land, and now they are chasing us on water. I wonder
where they will chase us next," said Paul.

"Not through the air, 'cause they can't fly, nor kin we," said Jim Hart
sagely.

Paul looked back again at the ferocious band gathered on the shore, and,
while he could not see their faces at the distance, he could imagine the
evil passions pictured there. As he gazed the band broke up, and many of
them came running along the shore. Then Paul noticed that the prow of
their canoe was not turned toward the island, but was bearing steadily
toward the north end of the lake, leaving the island well to the left. He
glanced at Jim Hart, and the long man laughed low, but with deep
satisfaction.

"Don't you see, Paul," he said, "that we kain't go to the islan' an' show
to them that we've been livin' thar? That might wipe out all the spell uv
the place. We got to let 'em think we're 'fraid uv it, too, an' that we
dassent land thar. We'll paddle up to the head uv the lake, come down on
the other side, an' then, when it's atween us an' them, we'll come across
to our islan'."

They were still abreast of the island, and yet midway between it and the
mainland. Paul saw the Indians running along the shore, and now and then
taking a shot at the canoe. But the bullets always fell short.

"Foolish! Plumb foolish," said Jim Hart, "a-wastin' good powder an' good
lead in sech a fashion!"

"That one struck nearer," said Paul, as a little jet of water spurted up
in the lake. "Keep her off, Jim. A bullet that is not wasted might come
along directly."

Hart sheered the boat off a little toward the island, and then took a long
look at a warrior who had reached a projecting point of land.

"That thar feller looks like a chief," he said, "an' I kain't say that his
looks please me a-tall, a-tall. I don't like the set uv his figger one
little bit."

"What difference does it make?" said Paul. "You can't change it."

"Wa'al, now, I was a-thinkin' that maybe I could," drawled Jim Hart.
"Hold the boat steady, Paul."

He laid down his paddle and took up his rifle, which he had reloaded.

"Them Injuns have guns, but they are not generally ez good ez ours," he
said. "They don't carry ez fur. Now jest watch me change the set uv that
savage's figger. I wouldn't do it, but he's just a-pinin' fur our blood
an' the hair on top uv our heads."

Up went the long Kentucky rifle, and the moonlight fell clearly along its
polished barrel. Then came the flash, the spurt of smoke, the report
echoing among the hills about the lake, and the chief fell forward with
his face in the water. A yell of rage arose from the others, and again
bullets pattered on the surface of the lake, but all fell short. Jim Hart
calmly reloaded his rifle.

"That'll teach 'em to be a little more keerful who they're a-follerin',"
he said. "Now, Paul, let's paddle."

They sent the boat swiftly toward the north end of the lake, and Paul now
and then caught glimpses of the Miamis trying to keep parallel with it,
although out of range; but presently, as they passed the island, and could
swing out into the middle of the lake, the last of them sank permanently
from sight. But the two kept on in the canoe. The moonlight faded a
little, and soon the hills on the shore could be seen only as a black
blur.

"This is jest too easy, Paul," said Jim Hart, "With them runnin' aroun'
that big outer circle, they couldn't keep up with us even ef they could
see us. Let's rest a while."

Both put their paddles inside the canoe and drew long breaths. Each had a
feeling of perfect safety, for the time at least, and they let the boat
drift northward under the gentle wind from the south that rippled the
surface of the lake.

"Water and darkness," said Paul. "They are our friends."

"The best we could have," said Jim Hart. "Are you rested now, Paul?"

"I'm fresh again."

They resumed the paddles, and, curving about, came down on the western
side of the lake until they were opposite the island. Then they paddled
straight for their home, and the word "home," in this case, had its full
meaning for Paul. It gave him a thrill of delight when the prow of the
canoe struck upon the margin of the little island, and the gloom of the
great trees was friendly and protecting.

"We must hide the canoe good," said Jim Hart.

They concealed it in a thick clump of bushes, and then Hart carefully
readjusted the bushes so that no one would notice that they had ever been
disturbed, and they took their way to the hut in the glen. They did not
light a fire, but they sat for a little while on the stones, talking.

"You're sure they won't come over to the Island?" said Paul.

"They'll never do it," replied Jim Hart confidently. "Besides, they ain't
got the least suspicion that we've come here. Likely, they think we've
landed at the north end uv the lake, an' they'll be prowlin' aroun' thar
three or four days lookin' fur us. Jest think, Paul, uv all the work
they'll hev fur nothin'. I feel like laughin'. I think I _will_ laugh."

He kept his word and laughed low; but he laughed long, and with the most
intense pleasure.

"Jest to think, Paul," he continued, "how we're guarded by dead Injuns
theirselves!"

Presently the two went into the hut, and slept soundly until the next
morning. They did not light a fire then, but ate cold food, and went down
among the trees to watch the lake. They saw nothing. The water rippled and
glowed in alternate gold and silver under the brilliant sunshine, and the
hills about it showed distinctly; but there was no sign of a human being
except themselves.

"Lookin' fur us among the hills," said Jim Hart. "You an' me will jest
keep close, Paul, an' we won't light no fire."

The whole day passed without incident, and the following night also, but
about noon the next day, as they watched from the shelter of the trees,
they saw a black dot on the lake, far to the south.

"A canoe!" said Jim Hart.

"A canoe? How did they get it?" said Paul--he took it for granted that its
occupants were Miamis.

"Guess they brought it across country from some river, and thar they are,"
replied Jim Hart. "They've shore put a boat on our lake."

His tone showed traces of anxiety, and Paul, too, felt alarm. The Miamis,
after all, might defy their own superstition and land on the island.
Presently another canoe appeared behind the first, and then a third and a
fourth, until there was a little fleet, which the two watched with silent
apprehension. Had Henry Ware been mistaken? Did the Miamis really believe
it was a haunted island?

On came the canoes in a straight black file, enough to contain more than a
score of warriors, and the man and the boy nervously fingered their
rifles. If the Indians landed on the island, the result was sure. The two
might make a good fight and slay some of their foes, but in any event
they would certainly be taken or killed. Their lives depended upon the
effect of a superstition.

Copyright (c) 2007. bestextbooks.com. All rights reserved.

T.H. (Thomas Henry) Huxley - "The Advance of Science in the Last Half Century"

Izola Forrester - "Kit of Greenacre Farm"

Leona Dalrymple - "Uncle Noah's Christmas Inspiration"

Harold Bindloss - "The Intriguers"