Red Belt, the Tuscarora — page 54: what you’re looking at

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

56 RED BELT, THE TUSCARORA. “Thank God!” he muttered. “They have not forgotten me, and there's hope yet! Ay, a bright hope !” The crisis came no more. The sentinels had simultane- ously paused as the screams rung from the forest ; but after a moment's hesitation, they shook their heads, and Tesumed their monotonous rounds, Roycon Howe glanced out ‘through the flapping fly of the tent. The moon was sinking behind the waving tree-tops, and the open square was half gloomed overavith a dark shade. As quick as was his glance, the prisoner saw a dim, shadowy figure, tall, ungainly and grotesque, creeping away on the ex- _ treme edge of the forest, and just within the heavy line of ~ shade flung ‘by the trees. In a moment, this phantom-like form was gone. - Tife young man trembled with excitement, nor did sleep again visit his eyes, that night. But the cries came no more, nor did the flitting form afterward appear. The dark hour passed, and the dawn broke clear and beaig tiful over the Indian village. Very soon the place was astir. It was a day which had long been looked forward to, for in it the chiefs expected an embassador, or emissary as we would call him, from the great father in the East, as Governor, Lord ~ Dunmore was styled by the Indians. The sun arose, and showered down its warm, golden rays over the village. © At an early hour, bands of gayly-painted warriors were to be seen, passing toward the council-chamber or tent. _ On entering this solemn place, each warrior, as a sign of good faith, drew from his quiver an arrow and tossed it to the ground by the buffalo-skin opening, at which sat a stern brave, who scrutinized each one who came. At length the council-lodge was filled. Then, as the wild, discordant sound of horns rung over the village, Derrick Thorne, wearing an officer's uniform, girded with sword and sash, and accompanied by a half-dozen chiefs richly attired in feathers and war-trappings, and hideously paiuted, marched toward. the tent. This white man, who had come, as history records it, on a bloody errand, was received by the dusky sentinel, standing. He soon entered the lodge. Scarcely had he disappeared with his gaudy escort, when an exceedingly tall savage, likewise in ComicooolkkS.conn