Red Belt, the Tuscarora — page 51: what you’re looking at

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

_= - A SCENE FOR A PAINTER... 53 after a pause, when he had finished the letter ; and for an in- stant tears dimmed his eyes, and they dropped upon his long, white. beard, “Ay! Ill heed you, Roydon! For once Ill spare the Wild Hawk, should he come under my rifle ; I'll spare him— once !” The young Tuscarora bowed his head in silence. Then the two, after another glance around them, hurried away, their faces still toward the sunset. They strode rapidly on. But the trail grew colder, and the old hunter, with a sor- rowful shake of his head, knew that his drowsiness that morn- ing had been fatal to his success. He knew that Wild Hawk’s party was now far ahead, and that it would be impossible to overliaul them tefore they reached the village. But still, he and Red Belt did not pause. Laie that night, only a half-hour after Wild Hawk’s party had arrived at their destination, two shadowy figures, followed by the faint shape of a gigantic dog—in fact, all showing co- lossal in the hazy moonlight—skirted quickly to the rear of the Indian village, and disappeared in the dense forest that clustered over the silent Scioto. ; CHAPTER IX. OLD PICTURES. Iw that room was a scene for a painter. pe Alp Rg eae ay sae gee eg FF locks of silver, bent upon her knees, and with raised eyes and crossed hands, prayed softly. Before her lay an open letter, and on the chair by which she knelt, was a large bag. In it could be seen, shining through, the rich gleam of yellow Suddenly there came a low rap at the door. The old wo- man started. The rap sounded again, and again. The old Woman arose to her feet, and moved fearingly toward the door. In an instaut, three brawny men, their faees concealed, conniclooks.conhn