He found the constable and Senator Culver
on watch on the back porch and whispered to them his errand.
"For God's sake, be careful, Harry," the Senator whispered back.
"Bad blood is boiling now. Some of Skelly's men have been hit hard,
and if they caught you they'd shoot you without mercy."
"But they won't catch me," replied the boy with confidence. Thinking
it would be in the way in his rapid flight, he gave his rifle to the
senator, and taking the heavy pistols from the holsters, thrust them in
the pockets of his coat. Then he dropped lightly from the porch and
lay for a few moments in the darkness and on the wet ground, absolutely
still.
A strange thrill ran through Harry Kenton when his body touched the
damp earth. The contact seemed to bring to him strength and courage.
Doubts fled away. He would succeed in the trial. He could not possibly
fail. His great-grandfather, Henry Ware, had been a renowned borderer
and Indian fighter, one of the most famous in all the annals of Kentucky,
gifted with almost preternatural power, surpassing the Indians
themselves in the lore and craft of forest and trail. It was said too,
that the girl, Lucy Upton, who became Henry Ware's wife and who was
Harry's great-grandmother, had received this same gift of forest
divination.
Pages:
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193