Red Belt, the Tuscarora — page 50: what you’re looking at

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

53 RED BELT, THE TUSCARORA. An hour passed—then another. Then the old hunter sud- denly paused, and parting the bushes, peered ahead. Just before him, on a small, open plateau of ground, were the smoldering remains of a fire, the dull blue smoke curling up lazily even then from the half-dead coals. Around this nwiny moccasin-prints could be seen, and the leavings of a meal. To one side, on the edge of the reeds which clustered around the little patch of sward, was the shattered stock of # rifle, and near it the barrel, bent out of shape and useless. Old Sampson pointed slowly through the bushes at this sight, and then beckoning Red Belt to follow him, he stepped out into the plateau and gazed around him. Then he stooped and picked up the bent rifle-barrel. Then he proceeded to examine it. © The old hunter started violently, and as he turned the large bore toward him, to get a good look at the rifled grooves, a grim, revéngeful smile passed over his face. “A bad omen for you, Derrick Thorne!” he muttered, softly. “ You've met with trouble, and — you'll meet with more! . . .. I know this weepon—a dangerous one; too! = But its day has passed; and your day is passing, Derrick Thorne; and soon the sun will set upon you! Well— well!” As he uttered the last words, he raised the heavy rifle-bar- re] and flung it far into the reeds, where it sunk out of sight in the dark ooze. Suddenly Red Belt started. Something on the grass had canght his attention. He picked it up, and glanced over it. [t was a small square of buck-skin, dotted here and there closely with small indentations. “We have tidings from our brother, the Leaping Deer,” stid the young Indian, quietly, at ‘the same time ‘handing the square to old Sampson. One glance over it, and the old hunter, as he recefved it from the other, uttered an exclamation of joy and relief. “He is safe! safe thus far, my brother, and the Leaping Deer gives us strange news! Listen; I will tell you what he says:” and the old man, in a low, treninious’ voice, deciphered Roydon Howe's “letter.” “ alay God help my poor boy tee P dutnttored-hie ald bunter, Conmcoooks.conn