Читать книгу Buffalo Bill, the Border King; Or, Redskin and Cowboy онлайн

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An Indian is not troubled by military accouterments to rattle as he walks; his moccasins are soundless, and he has schooled himself to endure all those little discomforts of body or environment that cause the white man to betray himself by either sound or movement. If a red warrior lay in wait for an enemy the flies and other insects might half eat him up without his betraying himself by a movement. He seldom has catarrhal affections of the throat, or if he does stifles the desire to cough or sneeze. He has, indeed, his whole body and mind under perfect control.

Therefore Texas Jack knew that the red men might be near—upon each side of him—in his very path, perhaps, yet they passed and repassed, silent as so many ghosts.

Texas Jack crept but a short way from the base of the hill before he lay flat down in the weeds and brush. There was a big rock on his right hand, and he believed that that obstacle, looming up as it did in the gloom, would keep anybody from walking over him.

His reason for lying there was easily understood. From the dark ground he could look upward and see any form passing between him and the lighter sky-line. He wished to get a line on the pacing to and fro of the sentinels. If there was any regularity regarding their beats, the scout might be able to time his passage so as not to be seen at all.