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Altsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander), 1862-1919

"The Scouts of the Valley"

On that side was a tiny garden, and near the
wall of the house some roses were blooming. He could see the
glow of pink and red. But no enemy bad yet approached.
Searching the clearing carefully with those eyes of his, almost
preternaturally keen, he was confident that the Indians were
still in the woods. He felt an intense thrill of satisfaction at
the success of his plan so far.
He was not cruel, he never rejoiced in bloodshed, but the
borderer alone knew what the border suffered, and only those who
never saw or felt the torture could turn the other cheek to be
smitten. The Standish house had made a sudden and ominous change
of tenants.
"It will soon be day," said Henry, "and farmers are early risers.
Kindle up that fire a little, will you, Sol? I want some smoke
to come out of the chimney."
The shiftless one raked away the ashes, and put on two or three
pieces of wood that lay on the hearth. Little flames and smoke
arose. Henry looked curiously about the house. It was the usual
cabin of the frontier, although somewhat larger. The bed on
which Shif'less Sol sat was evidently that of the father and
mother, while two large ones behind the curtain were used by the
children.


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