The Scouts of the Valley [120]
ez I'm doin' now I kin see him," said the shiftless one. "He's away off thar toward the north, skirtin' around an Injun village, Mohawk most likely, lookin' an' listenin' an' gatherin' talk about their plans."
"He ain't doin' any sech thing," broke in Long Jim.
"I've sleet my eyes, too, Sol Hyde, jest ez tight ez you've shet yours, an' I see him, too, but he ain't doin' any uv the things that you're talkin' about."
"What is he doing, Jim?" asked Paul.
"Henry's away off to the south, not to the north," replied the long one, "an' he's in the Iroquois village that we burned. One house has been left standin', an' he's been occupyin' it while the big snow's on the groun'. A whole deer is hangin' from the wall, an' he's been settin' thar fur days, eatin' so much an' hevin' such a good time that the fat's hangin' down over his cheeks, an' his whole body is threatenin' to bust right out uv his huntin' shirt."
Paul moved a little on his elbow and turned the other side of his face to the fire. Then he glanced at the silent worker with the moccasins.
"Sol and Jim don't seem to agree much in their second sight," he said. "Can you have any vision, too, Tom?"
"Yes," replied Tom Ross, "I kin. I shet my eyes, but I don't see like either Sol or Jim, 'cause both uv 'em see wrong. I see Henry, an' I see him plain. He's had a pow'ful tough time. He ain't threatenin' to bust with fat out uv no huntin' shirt, his cheeks ain't so full that they are fallin' down over his jaws. It's t'other way roun'; them cheeks are sunk a mite, he don't fill out his clothes, an' when he crawls along he drags his left leg a leetle, though he hides it from hisself. He ain't spyin' on no Injun village, an' he ain't in no snug camp with a dressed deer hangin' by the side uv him. It's t'other way 'roan'. He's layin' almost flat on his face not twenty feet from us, lookin' right in at us, an' I wuz the first to see him."
All the others sprang to their feet in astonishment, and Henry likewise sprang to his feet. Three leaps, and he was in the mellow glow.
"And so you saw me, Tom," he exclaimed, as he joyously grasped one hand after another. "I might have known that, while I could stalk some of you, I could not stalk all of you."
"I caught the glimpse uv you," said Silent Tom, while Sol an' Jim wuz talkin' the foolish talk that they most always talk, an' when Paul called on me, I thought I would give 'em a dream that 'wuz true, an' worth tellin'."
"You're right," said Henry. "I've not been having any easy time, and for a while, boys, it looked as if I never would come back. Sit down, and I will tell you all about it."
They gave him the warmest place by the fire, brought him the tenderest food, and he told the long and thrilling tale.
"I don't believe anybody else but you would have tried it, Henry," said Paul, when they heard of the fearful slide.
"Any one of you would have done it," said Henry, modestly.
"I'm pow'ful glad that you done it for two reasons," said Shif'less Sol. "One, 'cause it helped you to git away, an' the other, 'cause that scoundrel, Braxton Wyatt, didn't take you. 'Twould hurt my pride tre-men-jeous for any uv us to be took by Braxton Wyatt."
"You speak for us all there, Sol," said Paul.
"What have all of you been doing?" asked Henry.
"Not much of anything," replied Shif'less Sol. We've been scoutin' several times, lookin' fur you, though we knowed you'd come in some time or other, but mostly we've been workin' 'roun' the place here, fixin' it up warmer an' storin' away food."
"We'll have to continue at that for some time, I'm afraid," said Henry, "unless this snow breaks up. Have any of you heard if any movement is yet on foot against the Iroquois?"
"Tom ran across some scouts from the militia," replied Paul, "and they said nothing could be done until warm weather came. Then a real army would march."
"I hope so," said Henry earnestly.
But for the present the five could achieve little. The snow lasted a long time, but it was finally swept away by big rains.
"He ain't doin' any sech thing," broke in Long Jim.
"I've sleet my eyes, too, Sol Hyde, jest ez tight ez you've shet yours, an' I see him, too, but he ain't doin' any uv the things that you're talkin' about."
"What is he doing, Jim?" asked Paul.
"Henry's away off to the south, not to the north," replied the long one, "an' he's in the Iroquois village that we burned. One house has been left standin', an' he's been occupyin' it while the big snow's on the groun'. A whole deer is hangin' from the wall, an' he's been settin' thar fur days, eatin' so much an' hevin' such a good time that the fat's hangin' down over his cheeks, an' his whole body is threatenin' to bust right out uv his huntin' shirt."
Paul moved a little on his elbow and turned the other side of his face to the fire. Then he glanced at the silent worker with the moccasins.
"Sol and Jim don't seem to agree much in their second sight," he said. "Can you have any vision, too, Tom?"
"Yes," replied Tom Ross, "I kin. I shet my eyes, but I don't see like either Sol or Jim, 'cause both uv 'em see wrong. I see Henry, an' I see him plain. He's had a pow'ful tough time. He ain't threatenin' to bust with fat out uv no huntin' shirt, his cheeks ain't so full that they are fallin' down over his jaws. It's t'other way roun'; them cheeks are sunk a mite, he don't fill out his clothes, an' when he crawls along he drags his left leg a leetle, though he hides it from hisself. He ain't spyin' on no Injun village, an' he ain't in no snug camp with a dressed deer hangin' by the side uv him. It's t'other way 'roan'. He's layin' almost flat on his face not twenty feet from us, lookin' right in at us, an' I wuz the first to see him."
All the others sprang to their feet in astonishment, and Henry likewise sprang to his feet. Three leaps, and he was in the mellow glow.
"And so you saw me, Tom," he exclaimed, as he joyously grasped one hand after another. "I might have known that, while I could stalk some of you, I could not stalk all of you."
"I caught the glimpse uv you," said Silent Tom, while Sol an' Jim wuz talkin' the foolish talk that they most always talk, an' when Paul called on me, I thought I would give 'em a dream that 'wuz true, an' worth tellin'."
"You're right," said Henry. "I've not been having any easy time, and for a while, boys, it looked as if I never would come back. Sit down, and I will tell you all about it."
They gave him the warmest place by the fire, brought him the tenderest food, and he told the long and thrilling tale.
"I don't believe anybody else but you would have tried it, Henry," said Paul, when they heard of the fearful slide.
"Any one of you would have done it," said Henry, modestly.
"I'm pow'ful glad that you done it for two reasons," said Shif'less Sol. "One, 'cause it helped you to git away, an' the other, 'cause that scoundrel, Braxton Wyatt, didn't take you. 'Twould hurt my pride tre-men-jeous for any uv us to be took by Braxton Wyatt."
"You speak for us all there, Sol," said Paul.
"What have all of you been doing?" asked Henry.
"Not much of anything," replied Shif'less Sol. We've been scoutin' several times, lookin' fur you, though we knowed you'd come in some time or other, but mostly we've been workin' 'roun' the place here, fixin' it up warmer an' storin' away food."
"We'll have to continue at that for some time, I'm afraid," said Henry, "unless this snow breaks up. Have any of you heard if any movement is yet on foot against the Iroquois?"
"Tom ran across some scouts from the militia," replied Paul, "and they said nothing could be done until warm weather came. Then a real army would march."
"I hope so," said Henry earnestly.
But for the present the five could achieve little. The snow lasted a long time, but it was finally swept away by big rains.