Joe Napyank; or, The River Rifles

by Edward Sylvester Ellis

Thus it happens that Joe, who would not have believed he had gone more than three-quarters of a mile, chased the bird for fully a half-dozen times that distance, at the end of which it did not manifest the least fatigue, the wild turkey, as our readers are aware, being a noted runner. With no thought of giving it up, Joe still pursued it at the top of his speed, occasionally making a leap forward at it, and the bird as often as cleverly eluding him as ever.

Suddenly he caught the shimmer of something through the trees, and saw that they were approaching the banks of a river. He was now sure of his bird; he had fairly earned it, there was no escape for it; and his torturing hunger was about to be satisfied.

Gracefully and majestically, as the bird reached the river margin, it spread out its wings, and, sailing through the air, landed upon the Ohio side and disappeared in the woods.

Considerably chagrined,—as who would not have been?—he turned back into the woods to cogitate upon his future action. Then, as he looked about him, he saw that he was lost. He might retrace his trail, but he now comprehended that he had passed over too great a distance to make this advisable.

While thus debating with himself, he detected a peculiar smell in the air, which he understood, at once, was caused by a camp-fire. Knowing full well that he was in a hostile country, he kept a sharp look-out upon his footsteps.

It turned out as he had suspected. He was close upon an Indian encampment. He caught a glimpse of the gaudy fantastic costumes of the savages through the trees, and approaching as nigh as he could, he concealed himself, and surveyed them as well as his position could admit.

It was with a singular emotion that the hunter recognized this party, as the identical Shawanoes for whom he was searching, and who held Teddy and Ruth as captives. The party seemed to have lost several of their number—a half dozen or so—but there was no mistaking the others. The keen eye of the hunter recognized them at once. What surprised him still more, was that neither of the captives was visible. What had become of them? Had they been sent in advance in charge of a smaller party? What possible cause could the savages have for taking such a step?

These questions ran rapidly through the mind of the hunter, but there was another which unpleasantly protruded itself, and that was the one in regard to obtaining food for which, if possible was growing greater. There seemed to be but one course left for him and that was to take to the woods again. He was on the point of doing so, when he detected an unlooked for opportunity.

More than once he was sure he detected the smell of burning meat and the cause of it was soon explained. Some twenty rods or so away from the encampment of the savages, was a smaller fire at which a single squaw had momentarily abandoned her post, and the tempting prize was left unguarded.

The temptation was too great for the naturally cool-headed and cautious hunter. Running back into the woods a few rods, and totally unmindful of his imminent danger, he came in the rear of the fire, snatched the meat, and seating himself upon the ground, commenced devouring it like a wolf.