The lead removed—The wolves on the river—The wolf hunt—Gum fetid—Joe’s incredulity—His conviction—His surprise—His predicament—His narrow escape.
When Sneak opened the door, the sun had risen and was shining brightly. In a moment the inmates of the house were stirring. The horses neighed in the stable for their accustomed food and water, and when Joe hastened to them, he embraced the neck of each, in testimony of his joy that they were once more saved from the hands of the Indians. The hounds pranced round Boone and Glenn, manifesting their delight in being relieved of the presence of the enemy. The gate was thrown open, and the scene of the explosion minutely examined. Fortunately the channel cut under the snow by the savages ran a few feet apart from the powder, or the whole of them must inevitably have perished. As it was, not a single one lost his life, though many were blown up in the air to a considerable height. Joe and Sneak found only a few spears, knives, and tomahawks, that had been abandoned by the savages; and then they repaired to the west side of the inclosure, where the two dead Indians were still lying. They had scarce commenced searching their victims for booty, when a solitary Indian was seen approaching from the upper valley.
They had scarce commenced searching their victims for booty, when a solitary Indian was seen approaching from the upper valley.
“We hain’t got our guns!” exclaimed Sneak, pulling out his knife.
“I’ll get mine!” cried Joe, running away with all his might.
“What’s the matter?” inquired Boone, smiling, who had also seen the approaching Indian, and was walking to where the dead savages lay, accompanied by Glenn and Roughgrove, when he met Joe running swiftly towards the house.
“Hang me, if the Indians ain’t coming back again,” replied Joe.
“There is but one, and he has a white flag,” said Boone, who had discovered a small rag attached to a pole borne by the Indian.
“What can he want?” inquired Glenn.