Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil: A Young Virginian in the Revolution — page 146: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

CHAPTER XVI TROUBLE IN THE WIND Tue trunk of the big oak against which Tom crouched still shook like a harp-string from the explosion. He got upon his legs. “Unaka, we must find Troupe! Come.” The name of Emathla’s brother was not unknown to the Cherokee; but the intimation that he was here, — on this mountain-top, in these rocking woods, — why, it sounded creepy! But didnotmysterious and impossible occurrences haunt this calamitous spot? What might not happen here? “Yes, yes, I say. He’s here somewhere —other side of that mine over yonder. God grant he’s unhurt! Oh, come ahead, Redskin!” Easier said than done. The air was “a soup,” as Tom said, of powdered leaves, dust, smoke. The darkness was a great drawback. Failen limbs and uprooted trees ob- structed the way. They blundered and fumbled. “What’s gone with the moon? Say, Unaka, make Easta take the back track — show us the way. Here’s Easta.”’ Unaka set East-a-tubbee on the ground, gave a grunt, and the dog was off. They followed his frantic bark; but the darkness was so dense that they moved as in a sort of horrible blind man’s buff. “Listen! — Listen!” A far-off view-halloo — the cheer- lest sound that had ever reached ‘Tom’s ear. “There he ts, thank God!” What a glorious, uproarious whoop he sent back through the distraught woods! Tom was hooked fast by the seat of his buckskin breeches to the upturned roots of a sprawling dogwood that had met with reverses. “And I'll tell you, son of Going Snake, the moon means to find herself directly.” She did. The periph- ery of smoke, dust, and sulphureted hydrogen surrounding ECONMICLOOOKS,(e©) m