Pulp Fiction, 1870 · page 28 of 98
Red Belt, the Tuscarora — page 28: what you’re looking at
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80 RED BELT, THE TUSCARORA. CHAPTER V. A ENIFE IN THE AIR. Wen Roydon Howe, lying flat on his back upon the bot- tom of the big canoe, sped by the jutting spit up the Great Kanawha, the night of his capture, he endeavored to tear away the gag from his mouth, at any risk, to give the alarm and make himself known to his friends, whom he knew to be on the gloom-enshrouded strip of land. But his efforts were worse than useless, nor did they escape the notice of his cap- tors. They, however, paid no heed to him, further than to brandish a tomahawk, with a whizzing swoop, over his head. Thé particular fellow who did this was a swarthy savage, who sat in the middle of the boat, near the prisoner. The upper part of his arms, shoulders and throat were wrapped rudely around with a strip of blanket. The motion of the boat seemed to give him pain. The young hunter lay still; he was a brave man, but he was not foolhardy. He knew that he had fallen into the hands of those who, on the slightest provocation, would put him to death. He would not die now, for in his mind was the remembrance of a dark tale—a terrible tragedy. More than that, there was still registered in his brain a vow—that was unfulfilled. As the latter thought crept into Roydon Howe’s bosom, his frame shook convulsively. But he was powerless; he could not even cast his eyes around him. The boat darted on, and at last, as we have before stated, entered the Ohio. The broad river was now tossing and roll- ing under the influence of the heavy wind, rushing down over the wide, open sweep. But the canoe kept straight ahead. The water grew rougher as they proceeded, breaking over the sharp bows of the canoe, and flying back over it in a white, feathery spray. But the tall, herculean savage who sat aft, still pointed the head of ‘the boat straight across, and plied his paddle well. cEomicbooks.com “+~- a P =. iy? Fd ye \ ” bead | aN) ° it ry mY “ 9 £ - At, ; si bee J : ~ ae