Читать книгу Forest Glen; or, The Mohawk's Friendship онлайн

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These little folks had organized themselves into a company, with the ferocious title of "The Screeching Catamounts," in rivalry of the older boys, who styled themselves "The Young Defenders."

They had hewn the bark and sap-wood from a lone pine, and a black spot in the centre of the white wood served as a target. Eighty-five yards was the distance for a smooth gun, while for rifles, with which some of the boys were armed, it was a hundred. A rest was made by driving two stakes into the ground, and putting a withe across for them to fire over. Sam Sumerford, Archie Crawford, and Tony Stewart hit the black circle, though neither of them in the centre, but not varying half an inch; several touched the edge of it; and no one missed the tree, although one or two put their balls in the bark, outside the white spot, or "blaze" as it was called in frontier phrase.

They next engaged in throwing the tomahawk; after which, forming ranks, the band marched to the fort, and deposited their arms.

It is needful briefly to inform those who have not read the previous volumes, of the circumstances of the settlers to whom they are rather abruptly introduced, and the probable nature of those exigencies in view of which they had long been making preparations.