The Washington times., 1901-09-01

| tion OF the unusual appearance oI the
three canoes III this lonely part OF the
lake at so late hour, the purpose of
the two men could only reasonably be
considered to be in some way connected
with myself | had never known of the
Indians attempting any violence upon the
settlers who shared the wild. inhospita-
BILE country with them: at the same time,
it was not beyond the region of possible
itv To suppose But then j did not
care to even think of such hideous posi-
bilities, and my Imagination Immediately
sought relief in all manner Of other solu-
tions to the problem, which indeed came
| readily enough to my mind. but did not
succeed in recommending themselves to
my reason.
ped back out of the bright light in which
had hitherto been standing. and waited
in the deep shadow of a rock to see II the
canoe would again make its appearance
| Here / could see and not be seen, and the
| precaution seemed wise one.
| After less than five minutes the canoe
as | had anticipated, made its fourth ap-
pearance. This time it was not twenty
yards from the wharf and i saw that the
! Indians meant to land l recognized the
two men those who had passed before.
and the steerer was certainly an immense
fellow. 1t was anqueStionably the same
| canoe. There could be no longer any
| doubt that for some purpose of their own
| the men had been going round and round
| the island for some time. waiting for an
| opportunity to land l strained my eyes
to follow them in the darkness. but the
night had completely swallowed them up.
and not even the faintest swish of the
paddles reached Try ears as the Indians
| piled their long and powerful strokes.
| The canoe would be round again in a few
| moments, and this time 1t was possible
that the men might land. 1t was well to
be prepared. l knew nothing Of their in
tentions. and two to one twhen the two
are big IndiansD late at night on lonely
| island was not exactly my idea of pleas
| ant intercourse.
In corner of the sitting-room, leaning
up against the back wall, stood by Mar
lin rifle. with ten cartridges in the maga-
zine and one lying snugly in the creased
breach. There was just time to get up
! to the house and take up a position of de-
/ fence in that corner. Without an In
stant's hesitation ! ran up to the veranda.
| carefully picking my way among the
| trees, so as to avoid being seen in the
| light. Entering the room, l shut the door
/ leading to the veranda, and as quickly as
J possible turned out every one OF the six
| lamps. To be in room so brilliantly
! lighted. where my every movement could
I be observed from outside while L could
| see nothing but impenetrable darkness at
1 every window, was by all laws OF war
| fare an unnecessary concession to the en-
| emy. And this enemy, IL enemy 1t was
to be. was far too willy and dangerous to
be granted any such advantages.
| l stood in the corner OF the room, with
my back against the wall and my hand
on the cold rifle barrel. The table, COW
cred with my books. lay between me and
the door. but for the first few minutes
| after the lights were out the darkness
was so intense that nothing could be dis
| cerned at all Then. very gradually, the
| outline of the room became visible, and
| the framework of the windows began to
| shape itself dimly before my eyes. After
a few minutes the door dts upper half of
glass;, and the two windows that looked
! out upon the front veranda,- became
specially distinct; and i was glad that
this was so because If the Indians came
up to the house / should be able to see
their approach. and gather something OF
their plans. Nor was ! mistaken. for
there presently came to my ears the pc
culiar hollow sound of q canoe landing
and being carefully dragged up over the
rocks. The paddles distinctly heard be-
ing placed underneath. and the silence
that ensued thereupon l rightly inter-
preted to mean that the Indians were
stealtlIiiy approaching the house.
While ii would be absurd to claim that
/ was not alarmed-even frightened-at
the gravity of the situation. and its possi-
| Bile outcome, l speak the whole truth
ly afraid for myself. | was conscious
that even at this stage of the night | was
passing into psychical condition in
which my sensations seemed no longer
normal Physical fear at no time entered
into the nature Of my feelings; and
though ! kept my hand upon my rife
the greater part of the night, ! was all
the time conscious that its assistance
could be of little avail against the terrorS
that ] had to face More than once /
seemed to feel most curiously that | was
| in no real sense a part of the proceed
ings, nor actually involved in them, but
that l was playing the part Of a specta-
tor-a spectator, moreover, on a psychic
rather than on a material plane. Many
of my sensations that night were too
vague for definite description and analy-
sis, but the main feeling that will stay
with me to the end of my days is the
awful horror OF it all. and the miserable
sensatio that IL the strain had lasted
little longer than was actually the case
my mind must inevitably haze given way.
Meanwhile / stood still In my corner.
and waited patiently for what was to
come. The house was as still as the
grave, but the inarticulate voices of the
night sang in my ears, and l seemed to
hear the blood running in my veins and
dancing in my pulses.
If the Indians came to the back of the
house, they would find the kitchen door
and window securely fastened. They
could not get in there without making
considerable noise, which ! was bound to
hear. The only means of getting in was
the door that faced me. and l kept my
eyes glued on that door without taking
them OF for the smallest fraction of a
second.
My sight adapted itself every minute
better to the darkness. / saw the table.
that nearly filled the room. and left only
a narrow passage on each side. / could
also make out the straight backs of the
wooden chairs pressed up against it, and
could even distinguish my papers and
inkstand lying on the white oil cloth COW
ering- i thought of the gay faces that
had gathered round that table during the
summer. and / longed for the sunlight as
had never longed for IL before.
Less than three feet to my left the PAS
sageway led to the kitchen, and the stairs
leading to the bedrooms above commenced
In this passageway: but almost In the
sittingroon itself. Through the windows
] could see the dim motionless outlines of
the trees; not a leaf stirred, not branch
moved.
4 few moments of this awful silence
and then l was aware of soft tread on
the boards of the veranda so stealthy IL
brain rather than upon the nerves of
hearing Immediately afterward a black
ngure darkened the glass door, and | per
ceived that face was pressed against
the upper panes. A shiver ran down my
back, and my hair was conscious of !
tendency to rise and stand at right angles |
to my head.
1t was the figure of an Indian broad
shouldered and immense: indeed, the |
largest figure of man / have ever seen |
outside of circus hall BY some power |
Of light that seemed to generate itself in |
the brain. l saw the strong dark face
with the aquiline nose and high cheek |
bones fattened against the glass. The |
direction of the gaze / could not deter |
mine, but faint CLEANS of light as the big |
eyes rolled round and showed their |
whites, told me plainly that no corner of |
the room escaped their searching
For what seemed fully five minutes the |
dark figure stood there. with the huge |
shoulders bent forward so as to bring |
the head down to the level OF the glass; |
while behind him. though not nearly so |
large, swayed to and fro like a bent tree |
the shadowy form OF the other Indian. |
While ] waited in an agony OF suspense |
and agitation for their next movement