Chapter ten Winter Nights... | SouthernPaddler.com

Chapter ten Winter Nights...

Swampy

Well-Known Member
Aug 25, 2003
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Southeastern North Carolina
Sir Wallace called for one of his men to gather with him and several others. Rusty N came a galloping. In his hand he carried what the major had seen him earlier making. He slid it into his belt when he came to Wallace.
"RustyN, I need you to back track the river on this side. I need to know if the Indians from this morning are following us. Return here by two in the morning."
"Aye sir!" and off he slipped into the woods. He disapeared into the shadows and without a sound. Wallace knew this man knew what he was doing and he did it well. Unless he was over powered by a large force , he'd be back with news, wether good or bad. If he wasn't back by two, then the worst could be assumed. Sir Wallace then stationed two men at the edge of the camp and two across the river as a lookout post.

Signals were worked out between these groups. Extra weapons were also carried by them. Then Sir Wallace set about placing some primative "alarms" about the perimeter of camp. More trip alarms than anything else. No one would be able to completely come in quietly. After supper the men rested with some small talk then settled into their beds for the night. Before long everyone was sleeping a peaceful sleep. All but the ones who watched the night. They looked and listened.

Up river RustyN crept along at a slower pace than he traveled minutes ago. Pure stealth now. No cougar had crept this slow nor silently. RustyN's big frame simply glidded through the forest. Not one branch betrayed his presents there. He was cautious of the moons light on him and his gear. He wore nothing that would make a sound. The pouches that held his hatchets, knives, and ammo were secured close to him. Nothing made a sound. If anyone did happen to see that shadow slipping by, they'd stare at it and swear it was only the shadow of a bush. That is how slowly he moved now. He slowed even further. His nose picked up the smell of grease. It could have been an animal carcuss ahead, but that was un-likely. The odds were it came from a man or men. He intended to find out how many.
Rising occationally he peered over the grasses along the river. After a while he peeked and caught the glimps of a worrior seating on a bolder next to the river. RustyN noted that he couldn't see a glare from the forehead nor cheeks of the man. He deducted that the Indian wore war paint. Not a night fisherman waiting for a hook to be set, or a spear to throw. Rusty listened now. Perhaps thirty minutes had passed and no other sound came to his ears. Yet that sixth sence kept him from just believing that there was only one here. Then some ten minutes later another Indian approached the one on the rock. The one on the rock shook his head to the negative. He then pointed upriver. The other followed his arm and looked upriver also. The one on the rock slipped off and began to walk with the other one. Stooped over they passed Rusty and crept with small rocks falling off their wet moccosins.

Young ones, RustyN thought. Probably a foreward scouts for the main party. Delaying as they were RustyN reconed that they were scouting for a bit and then they'd rejoin the main party behind. And that party was probably resting or even sleeping right now. Maybe sleeping so that when and if these two came back with word that the Major's group was just ahead sleeping, they'd have time to close in before morning and attack sleeping whites. RustyN had other plans. He sliped behind the two and with ease he followed them up river. After about an hour of this RustyN wanted to try out his new weapon Meriwether saw him making in camp that evening. Slowly he pulled out the stick with the rock fastened onto it by the three foot long leather string. The two stopped and knelt down to drink from the cold waters. That gave RustyN time enough to jump and hit one then the second one on the side of the head. Seeing blood flowing from their heads, RustyN remarked to himself," Them thar knights had a wicked stick alright!" He drugged them off the path and then set out to his own camp. This news had to get to Sir Wallace quickly. And the night swollowed him up again.
 
A

Anonymous

Guest
Swampy said:
" Them thar knights had a wicked stick alright!"



Friend Swampy,

I resemble that remark. :mrgreen: :mrgreen:

regards,

bearridge, dreamer