Yonder towards the west was help for Alice; that
was all he cared for.
But if Long-Hair was pursuing him with relentless greed for the
reward offered by Hamilton, there were friendly footsteps still
nearer behind him; and one day at high noon, while he was bending
over a little fire, broiling some liberal cuts of venison, a
finger tapped him on the shoulder. He sprang up and grappled Oncle
Jazon; at the same time, standing near by, he saw Simon Kenton,
his old-time Kentucky friend. The pungled features of one and the
fine, rugged face of the other swam as in a mist before Beverley's
eyes. Kenton was laughing quietly, his strong, upright form
shaking to the force of his pleasure. He was in the early prime of
a vigorous life, not handsome, but strikingly attractive by reason
of a certain glow in his face and a kindly flash in his deep-set
eyes.
"Well, well, my boy!" he exclaimed, laying his left hand on
Beverley's shoulder, while in the other he held a long, heavy
rifle. "I'm glad to see ye, glad to see
"Thought we was Injuns, eh?" said Oncle Jazon. "An' ef we had 'a'
been we'd 'a' been shore o' your scalp!" The wizzened old creole
cackled gleefully.
"And where are ye goin'?" demanded Kenton. "Ye're making what
lacks a heap o' bein' a bee-line for some place or other."
Beverley was dazed and vacant-minded; things seemed wavering and
dim.
Pages:
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254