Red Belt, the Tuscarora — page 38: what you’re looking at

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

40 RED BELT, THE TUSCABORA, and guided by the skillful hand of the young Tuscarora, rode well the heavy swells. And now the boat was far out upon the water—its prow pointed onward. Still old Sampson Lowe lay motionless, half recimbent. in the bottom of the boat, and the faithful Eagle stood over him, or rather crouched closely to him, now and then sniffing wistfully at the old man’s cold, almost bloodless face. Red Belt paid no heed to either; his face was stern, and his eye gleamed steadily into the gloom ahead. Suddenly he paused in his exertions.and bent his ear. An ominous, unmis- takable sound had been borne to him over the bosom of the water—a, sound he did not like to hear. He had heard the quick, regular sweep of several paddles, and a rushing sound as of a boat rapidly cleaving the waves. He glanced behind him, and peered steadily back in the gray gloom astern, The moon had now sailed ‘behind a heavy cloud-bank, and a dead, leaden gloom rested over the water. But Red Belt, after looking steadily a moment, started and muttered a low, deep exclamation. Not a hundred yards astern was along black object moving swiftly in his wake, and evidently overhauling him, moment by moment, Along with that object the young Indian had likewise distinctly seen in it,a dim array of dusky figures. Beyond a doubt it was an Indian canoe, and it contained at least eight or ten warriors. Red Belt knew this. All this time the Tuscarora’s boat was motionless, or rather, having lost headway, was drifting down the current of the black river. The Indian hesitated no longer. The pause had rested him—given him time to breathe. Snatching the paddle he drove it into the water. A few strokes, and the light craft was bounding over the billows like an arrow. “; The race was a desperate one, and the. odds were fearful. The Tuscarora had thews of steel and lungs of leather ; but he could not.stand up under such work; he could not hope to es- cape the pursuers who hung so persistently behind. On came the long black canoc—clearer and clearer resounded tue splash of the paddles—more fearfully close echoed the fushing, cleaving dash of the boat through the trembling water. comicbooks.com