The Rulers of the Lakes A Story of George and Champlain
CHAPTER I THE HERALDS OF PERIL The three, the white youth, the red youth, and the white man, lay deep in the forest, watching the fire that burned on a low hill to the west, where black figures flitted now and then before the flame. They did not stir or speak for a long time, because a great horror was upon them. They had seen an army destroyed a few days before by a savage but invisible foe. They had heard continually for hours the fierce triumphant yells of the warriors and they had seen the soldiers dropping by hundreds, but the woods and thickets had hid the foe who sent forth such a rain of death. Robert Lennox could not yet stop the quiver of his nerves when he recalled the spectacle, and Willet, the hunter, hardened though he was to war, shuddered in spite of himself at the memory of that terrible battle in the leafy wilderness. Nor was Tayoga, the young Onondaga, free from emotion when he thought of Braddock's defeat, and the blazing triumph it meant for the western tribes, the enemies of his people.
Robinson had never taken much notice of the birds at home. But now
every living thing attracted him. He loved to see them happy. He would
watch often by the hour and learn the habits of nesting and getting
food of nearly every bird on the island.
Robinson did not know the names of many of the birds he saw on the
island. He had to make names for them. The strangest thing he saw on
his journey was the nest of what he called the yellow-tail. This bird
lives in colonies and makes its nest at the ends of the long leaves
of the mountain palm. When he first saw these queer looking sacks hanging
from the leaves he was amazed. He had never seen so strange a sight.
From the end of each great leaf hung a long, closely woven nest.
Robinson could not make out at first what they were. Soon, however,
he saw the birds come out of the mouths of the nests. Here, one hundred
feet from the ground, they hung their nests. But they were perfectly
safe.
He had not gone far from the tree in which the yellow tails had their
nests when he was suddenly startled by a voice crying, "Who, who are
you?" Robinson was greatly frightened and hid beneath the drooping
branches of a cedar tree. He feared every moment that the owner of
the voice would make his appearance. But it kept at a distance. Every
few minutes from the depths of the forest would come the doleful cry,
"Who, who are you?" Robinson did not dare to stir from his hiding
place. He remained there over night. After the night came on he heard
the strange voice no more.
CHAPTER I THE HERALDS OF PERIL The three, the white youth, the red youth, and the white man, lay deep in the forest, watching the fire that burned on a low hill to the west, where black figures flitted now and then before the flame. They did not stir or speak for a long time, because a great horror was upon them. They had seen an army destroyed a few days before by a savage but invisible foe. They had heard continually for hours the fierce triumphant yells of the warriors and they had seen the soldiers dropping by hundreds, but the woods and thickets had hid the foe who sent forth such a rain of death. Robert Lennox could not yet stop the quiver of his nerves when he recalled the spectacle, and Willet, the hunter, hardened though he was to war, shuddered in spite of himself at the memory of that terrible battle in the leafy wilderness. Nor was Tayoga, the young Onondaga, free from emotion when he thought of Braddock's defeat, and the blazing triumph it meant for the western tribes, the enemies of his people.