Scouting Dave, Vol. 5

Angebote / Angebote:

Excerpt from Scouting Dave, Vol. 5: The Trail Hunter The scene opens in the Far West. In the forest the evening's gloom already was settling, though here and there, through some narrow vista, a rich ray of sunlight poured its golden flood far into the shadowy depths. The place was lonely and drear, yet wild and grand. Approaching civilization had driven out the red-man, while his place had not, as yet, been filled by the spreading whites. Deep silence reigned, disturbed only by the myriad sounds of animal and insect life, called forth by the rare beauties of the evening. The sights and sounds of civilization were not there, and yet, we should, perhaps, make a single exception. Stealing cautiously along, with a tread as light as that of a shade, was one of that famed and daring class, met nowhere save on the advance of American settlements - the border scouts, who, born to danger and innured to hardship, become, as a race, the very embodiment of bravery, endurance, strategy and recklessness. These are the ruling characteristics of the class, though as varied in individuals as are the personalities of "citizens of the world." The person to whom we have referred was a worthy specimen of his class. Tall, erect and graceful in every motion, with eyes and ears from which not the slightest sign or sound could escape, David Barring, or "Davy the Scout, " as he was often called, was fitted, both by nature and education, for the rough life which he was called upon to lead. Though taller than the average of men, his compact frame and symmetrical proportions served, in a great measure, to disguise his real height. His dress was in keeping with his life and habits. Bearskin cap, deerskin leggins, and Indian moccasins, in addition to the ordinary hunting suit, tended to enhance the wild character of his person. There was little necessity for the extreme caution which David still continued to exercise. It sprung more from habit and long practice than from any present danger. That the scout was deeply agitated, might readily be gathered from the manner in which he mused, half aloud, as he proceeded: "Four years, since I've travelled through this place. But it's bad news I bring 'em this time, so it is. Wouldn't blame 'em if they didn't believe me, not a bit, but 'twould be bad times for 'em if they shouldn't. Them as knows Davy Barring won't doubt his word in Injin matters, not by a long shot. Wonder, though, how the settlers will like the idee o'runnin' away from these four tribes of heathens, with old Black Hawk and all his crew yellin' round their ears? Blame me if I don't wish there were a hundred or two men jis' like myself, to rally here and give 'em a warmin'! Wouldn't there be a skittish time, though? But there isn't, so we may as well take things as they come. Maybe, after all, the reds will strike another way, and give these folks a chance to take the back track. But it does come hard to give up all a man's done for six or ten years, and leave it to such ornery villains. It's a consolation there isn't as many o' the redskins as there would have been if Davy Barring hadn't been born, and it's sure there'll be less yet, if nothin' happens to Mister Davy, and his old rifle don't miss fire." The scout spoke with an air which showed his sincerity and determination. About the Publisher Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com