Ellis Edward Sylvester - Ned in the Block-House: A Tale of Early Days in the West стр 21.

They were bestowing most of their attention on the block-house, and one of them discharged his gun toward it, their friends further down the river doing the same.

Deerfoot was somewhat closer to them than to the others, for fortunately he found

a partly decayed log, lying directly across his path, and he used this as a partial screen, though by doing so, he increased the difficulty of his withdrawal, should it suddenly become necessary.

The young Shawanoe had scarcely secured the position, when the warriors began talking in their own tongue, which was as familiar to Deerfoot as his own.

He was so close that he did not lose a single word of the conversation, which, as may be suspected, was of no little interest to himself.

"The pale-face is a brave youth, and he runs like Deerfoot, the son of the Shawanoe chieftain Allomaug."

"The Long Knives flee, when the Wyandots leave their villages and hunt for them."

"The Yenghese are not brave," said the third warrior, who had just fired his gun, and who used another term by which the Caucasian was distinguished from his copper-hued brother; "they run like the rabbits, when the hunter drives them from cover; they fled into the strong lodge, when they saw the shadow of Waughtauk coming from the north."

"They will hide behind the logs till their brothers along the Ohio can haste to help them," observed the first speaker, who seemed to be the pessimist of the party; "their lodge is strong, and the Wyandot braves cannot break it down."

Deerfoot, from his concealment, saw the painted face of the other warrior, as it was turned indignantly on the croaker.

"My brother talks like the squaw who thinks the voice of the wind, when it blows among the trees at night, is that of the panther and bear that are pushing their noses under her lodge to turn it over; has Arawa no heart, that he speaks so like a squaw that is ill?"

Arawa seemed to feel somewhat ashamed of himself and made no reply: he would doubtless have been glad if the drift of the conversation should change, but as his companions showed no eagerness to change it, he launched out boldly himself:

"Why did we not shoot the pale-face youth and him with the color of the night, when they hastened across the open ground? It was ours to do so."

"We thought there was no escape for them, and there would not be in many moons should they run again."

"But they cannot save the Yenghese dogs, for the strong lodge shall be burned down before the sun shows itself again in the east," observed the optimist.

"Many moons ago, when the face of the sun was all fire, we tried to burn the strong lodge, but the flame ran away from us and it will do so many times more."

This was Arawa the pessimist, croaking once more, and the others scowled so fiercely upon him, that they seemed on the point of offering violence with a view of modifying his views; but, if so, they changed their minds, and one of them tendered some information:

"The sun and the winds and the moon have made the roof of the strong lodge like the wood with which Arawa makes the fire in his wigwam; it is not as it was many moons ago."

Arawa seemed on the point of opening his mouth to say that, while the moon and the winds and the sun had been engaged in the drying out process, the snows and storms and tempests had been taking part; but if such was his intention, he changed his mind and made a remark of still more vital interest to the cowen near the log.

"The pale-face dogs, and he with the countenance of the night, must have had the serpent-tongued Deerfoot to help them."

This startling statement seemed to be endorsed by the other two, one of whom said

"Arawa speaks the truth."

"Arawa reads what he sees aright," added the other, while Deerfoot himself felt that all three had hit the nail on the head with astonishing accuracy.

"Deerfoot of the Shawanoes is a dog," observed one of the warriors, "and he shall die the death of a dog."

The individual referred to was rather relieved to hear this declaration, because in order to inflict the death of a dog on him, it would be necessary first to catch him a condition which implied that the Wyandots would make every effort to take him prisoner, instead of shooting him on sight, as they often did with others.

Where such a strong attempt should be made, it gave the young friend of the white men a much greater chance of eluding his foes.

The Wyandots, while grouped together and occasionally firing a gun at the block-house, continued their derogatory remarks about the young Shawanoe, who did not lose a word. He could see them distinctly: one had his back toward him most of the time, but he turned now and then so that his profile was visible. The lynx eyes of the youth noticed the flaming red, which was daubed over his face, crossed with zebra-like streaks of black, with circles on the forehead and promiscuous dots here and there; the irregular nose, the bridge of which had been broken, and the retreating chin,

garrison within the block-house saw the November day draw to an end, and the darkness of night closing in over river, forest and clearing, with sad forebodings of what was to come before the rising of the morrow's sun.