Young Edwin Inwood had been deprived so long of his hunt, that he to improve his time to the utmost. He took a direction exactly opposite to the one pursued by his brother, and soon found himself in the midst of the wood which contained their new home, where it was open and easily traveled.
It was his wish to secure an , which were quite abundant in this section, although almost unknown a little further south, and he walked very carefully, well aware of the acuteness of their hearing. A quarter of a mile or so brought him to a broad, wild ravine, and, looking down this, the first object that met his eye was a group of Mohave Indians seated around a camp-fire. Three sat smoking, and two were engaged in a fine plump antelope, and preparing it for their supper.
They were a hundred feet below where the boy stood, and several hundred yards distant. He watched them for some time with interest. Each had around his person or near him, one of those brilliant and wonderfully woven blankets, which have made the Indians of the distant southwest known all over the country. They were painted and daubed up like a lot of children’s toys, their coarse black hair hanging loosely over their shoulders, while its usual stiffness was by the rainbow-hued stuff among it. It makes a fellow look comical to see his face of all colors, and there was something in the outlandish look of these Mohaves which would have[63] brought a grim smile to the of him who had scarcely ever laughed.
They never once raised their heads, although Edwin them so closely that he was sure they were a portion of the party which had attacked them at the cave, and he recognized the very individual who was so handsomely in his attempt to shake hands with Jim Tubbs. This being the case, he entertained much less fear of them than he would, had they been strangers.
But, that he had come out for the purpose of obtaining food, he turned away and wandered off in another direction. While he was asking himself whether it would be to fire his gun in their vicinity or not, a fine plump young antelope rushed by him with the speed of the wind. Quick as thought his gun was over his shoulder, and, with a leap, the beautiful creature dropped, and, after a few struggles, lay dead.
Edwin hurried up to him, and, drawing his knife, commenced dressing it and securing the choicest portions for their supper. Absorbed thus in his work, he forgot entirely the of the aborigines. He had about completed his work, when, with lightning-like suddenness, a reflection of his came over him, and he rose and glanced about him.
Providentially his first look was directed toward the proper point, and he saw at quite a distance two Indians, motionless, and watching him seemingly with great interest. The moment he raised his head they each behind a tree, evidently not through fear, but with a far different object.
Edwin was a boy with an intelligence and perception beyond his years, and he immediately saw his danger, and looked around to learn the best direction in which to retreat. His first thought was to run straight from the red men and, observing that the wood was thicker and more broken, he did not hesitate, but started off at once.
Casting one glance over his shoulder, he observed the two aborigines after him, although neither of them gave to the “yell,” which, with the proverbial “ugh,”seems to be about the only language which ever emerges from the lips of the North American Indian, if the authority of story writers is to be taken.
In a race of this kind, we could not dare risk our reputation in saying that the little fellow was anything like a match for his pursuers. He hadn’t been in training as long as they, and it was impossible that the cowardly Mohaves should not gain upon him with sad certainty.
All of which he expected, and he therefore turned all his energies toward finding some place in which he could himself. Bounding over and among the rough and rocks, he turned at right angles to the course he had been following, darted a few rods ahead, and then, to his dismay, found himself on the banks of a small, rapid stream.
But there was no time for . He ran along the shore a little way, and then rapidly climbed a small tree, dragging his rifle as best he could after him. Here he among the branches, and, panting and trembling, awaited the result.
As yet, he had not heard a sound, but he did not dare hope that his pursuers were off the . He had read certain wonderful tales of the prowess of the “red men of the woods,” and had every ............