THE
SKELETON SCOUT;
OR,
THE BORDER BLOCK.
BY MAJOR LEWIS W. CARSON,
AUTHOR OF THE FOLLOWING POCKET NOVELS:
17. Ben, the Trapper.
22. Indian Jo, the Guide.
NEW YORK:
BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS,
98 WILLIAM STREET.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, by
FRANK STARR & CO.,
In the office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.
THE SKELETON SCOUT;
OR,
THE BORDER BLOCK.
CHAPTER I.
A YANKEE ON A LOG.
The scene opens upon one of those great rivers of the West, in thecountry which Tecumseh claimed and fought for so gallantly. The forestwas at rest, save only the songs of birds and the splash of the fishleaping in the river. A thicket of bushes which bordered the path downto the water, was suddenly pushed aside and a grim face peered out, aface rendered doubly fierce by its war-paint, for it was that of anIndian of Tecumseh's noble race.
Satisfying himself that no one was in sight, the Indian rose slowly,stalked out into the path, and took his course toward the river.
Another and another followed, until ten had come into view, gliding insilence down the forest-path.
Each savage was naked save the breech-cloth and moccasins. Only theman who first showed himself, was differently dressed. He was a tall,stately warrior, bearing upon his naked breast the totem of his tribepainted in bright colors, and wearing upon his dark hair the plumedhead-dress of a chief.
Each Indian carried a rifle of the most approved make in the Englishservice, together with the inevitable scalping-knife and tomahawk.
Not one of them spoke, but followed their chief's cautious steps downto the water's edge, where, sheltering themselves behind the bushes,they peered across the stream.
It was late in the afternoon, and the sun was already out of sightbehind the tree-tops on the western shore. But, not upon the glories ofnature did the eyes of those fierce-visaged sons of the forest rest.What then?
Upon the other shore, close to the river, stood a log cabin of thelargest size, with heavy walls and doors, calculated to resist anyordinary attack. The fields around it were green with varied crops, forit was now near the end of summer.
A strong wall of logs, hewn smooth, and leaving no chance to a climber,surrounded the house. It was plain that the builder, whoever he mightbe, was fully awake to the dangerous position he occupied in the midstof the Indian country, but that he did not apprehend any immediateattack was apparent, for his huge stockade gates were off the hingesand leaning against the walls on either side.
The Indians lay under cover of the bushes, their gleaming eyes rivetedupon their expected prize, but they made no movement, for they behelda man standing upon the point which stretched out into the stream, arifle in his hand, pacing up and down as if on guard.
As they gazed a strange sight greeted their astonished vision.Something was coming down the river in mid stream. It seemed to be aman, seated in a canoe.
The current swept him rapidly downward, and, as the nondescript craftcame near, they saw a man seated astride of a log, keeping its h