Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 5, 2025
In Legget's rude log cabin a fire burned low, lightening the forms of the two border outlaws, and showing in the background the dark forms of Indians sitting motionless on the floor. Their dusky eyes emitted a baleful glint, seemingly a reflection of their savage souls caught by the firelight. Legget wore a look of ferocity and sullen fear strangely blended.
If you had done so we'd never have come to this. Burned out, do you get that? Burned out!" "Fire!" exclaimed Legget. He sat down as if the strength had left his legs. The Indians circled around the room like caged tigers. "Ugh!" The chief suddenly reached up and touched the birch-bark roof of the hut. His action brought the attention of all to a faint crackling of burning wood.
"The superstitious fool! He would begin his death-chant almost without a fight. We can't count on the redskins. What's to be done?" The outlaw threw himself upon the bed of boughs, and Legget sat down with his rifle across his knees. The Indians maintained the same stoical composure. The moments dragged by into hours. "Ugh!" suddenly exclaimed the Indian at the end of the hut.
Legget ran to him, and acting upon a motion of the Indian's hand, looked out through the little port-hole. The sun was high. He saw four of the horses grazing by the brook; then gazed scrutinizingly from the steep waterfall, along the green-stained cliff to the dark narrow cleft in the rocks. Here was the only outlet from the inclosure. He failed to discover anything unusual.
"Lew, we must go eastward, over Bing Legget's way, to find the trail of the stolen horses." "Likely, an' it'll be a long, hard tramp." "Who's in Legget's gang now beside Old Horse, the Chippewa, an' his Shawnee pard, Wildfire? I don't know Bing; but I've seen some of his Injuns an' they remember me." "Never seen Legget but onct," replied Wetzel, "an' that time I shot half his face off.
Brandt's face was hard and haggard, his lips set, his gray eyes smoldering. "Safe?" he hissed. "Safe you say? You'll see that it's the same now as on the other night, when those border-tigers jumped us and we ran like cowards. I'd have fought it out here, but for you." "Thet man Wetzel is ravin' mad, I tell you," growled Legget. "I reckon I've stood my ground enough to know I ain't no coward.
"Though mebbe that'd been useless. I think he was hidin'. He's precious shy of his red skin. I've been after him these ten year, an' never ketched him nappin' yet. We'd have done much toward snuffin' out Legget an' his gang if we'd winged the Shawnee." "He left a plain trail." "One of his tricks.
The Indian and the outlaw were at a disadvantage. They could not strike freely. The whirling conflict grew more fearful. During one second the huge, brown, bearish figure of Legget appeared on top; then the dark-bodied, half-naked savage, spotted like a hyena, and finally the lithe, powerful, tiger-shape of the borderman.
The noise of the fearful conflict he left behind, swelled high and hideously on the night air. Above the shrill cries of the Indians, and the furious yells of Legget, rose the mad, booming roar of Wetzel. No rifle cracked; but sodden blows, the clash of steel, the threshing of struggling men, told of the dreadful strife.
They gathered behind him, breathing hard, clutching their weapons, and seemingly almost crazed by excitement. Brandt, with no thought of joining this foolhardy attempt to escape from the inclosure, ran to the little port-hole that he might see the outcome. Legget and his five redskins were running toward the narrow outlet in the gorge.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking