The Dickson County herald. (Dickson, Tenn.) 1907-1979, 1914-05-01

u.s. tA8H1sN9Ns MtNN9s ~ sraN
knows what | am. He 10 not reckless
enough 10 offer me insult; did he do 70
he would be- torn limb from linah. You
do not know my people. ba, Simon
Cirty does. do no, fear him. yet |
would rather 80 with you.
Il cannot consent. II would cost me
my commission TO take you. I must
saF good-by.'
She held out her hard
''Goodby. monsieur
left her standing there. a slender,
dark shadow In the starlight, feeling
yet the Arm grip OF her fingers, and
seeing yet Ia memory the upturned
face, That she really meant what she
said so confidently did not truly be-
iieye. Her threat OF travelling In com.
pany sith Glrty. or even alone, was
merely uttered In the vague hope that
IL might influence me. She could MOI,
be In earnest In spite Of her assertion
| was not altogether convinced thai
she was an indian. a Wyandot she
was 30 young. so sirlish. so soft Of
voice and civilized OF speech. ! could
not associate her with sayag.s, or
those dark haunted woods. even
laughed grimly to myself. 40 went
down the blum. at the thought,
The boat was In the dark shadows
If fha hank "A .f,a k,la .uuNa ,hr..a In
dlans--frieudly Delawares- graSpins
the paddles and kneeiing in tho bot
tom. and two men holding II steady
against the current One OF these. tall
and straight. would be Brady. but this
other. a mere shadow In The dark. was
unacceptable
You go with usT'' asked.
He Strengthened up. with the motion
OF salute.
Yah, der captain he says so, don't
Id" the words strongly Dutch,
oh, yes, my man; you are the cook.
Is there an extra paddle in there,
boys"
An Indian voice grunted response,
holding 1t up
An right; take It. and get in. What
Is your name7 r.
Johann Schultz"
remembered him, private in
Browns company, as poor choice as
could have been made for such an ea'
petition, but II was too late now Tor
an exchange
In with you. Schultz" ordered
sharply. behind the last Indian, and
bend your back; this Ia to be no pleas
ure trip after Wild flowers, All ready.
Brady"
He stepped into the bow OF the
craft. without answering, and crouched
down. his long rife showing above his
shoulder, pushed on. and found
room at the stern. There was Dash
OF paddles in the dark water, and. Al
most noiselessfy. we swept out into the
stream, For the space Of q mile. per
haps, we skirted the clearing. the river
a stream OF silver under the stars. the
land on either side, dishgured by
blackened tree stumps. making q deco
late picture. Then the canoe slipped
silently into the fores, waterway, the
dense woods on either bank obscuring
the stars. and plunging US into dark
ness. Brady bent over the sharp bow
his eyes watchfui for any obstacle. for
any swirl o: tina cu1rant, and could
family distinguish his voice IN low
spoken warning to the Indian paddlers
We we're hemmed In by wilderness
the narrow stream bordered by great
forest trees, with branches over hang
Ing the current, and huge roots pro
3ec,lng from the messy banks
There was little or no underprush;
indeed. as the light grew stronger, the
vista stretched far away between the
gnarled trunks OF oak and hickory tc
where the land rose IN low blufY. II
was a somber scene Of gray and green
coIoring. save that here and there were
clusters OF wild flowers yielding a
brighter hue of blue and yellow 70 the
dull background The silence was pro
found, the river noiseless. excep, al
the waters occasionally foamed owe,
some obstacle in their path, or muir
INJURED softly ABOUT the sharp prov O.
the canoe. High up above the early
morning air futtered the leaves, yet &C
gently that no sound OF rust,inr
reached me. The woods themselves
were desolate. apparently uninhabited
without even heeting Wild animal "a
break their loneliness.
sat up. rubbing my cramped limbs
and stared abou, down the forcs,
aisles. impressed by the somhernoss
OF our surroundings. yet with ever,
faculty aroused The Dutchman's Ian
gaid movements. and the perspl.a,ior
streaming down his face. told OF a hnrd
nights work