Читать книгу With Sam Houston in Texas онлайн

34 страница из 93

“Let’s walk,” urged Ernest, for the land looked inviting and maybe they’d find deer on their route.

Then——

“Hello!” spoke the lieutenant, eying the shore. “Here comes a boat. Well, it’s good to see a sign of life somewhere.”

A small boat had put out from the high left-hand banks. It was making for the steamer. One man, paddling, seemed to be the only person in it.

Speedily the word of the approaching visitor spread throughout the deck, and the passengers dropped every other amusement, to watch and hazard guesses. As the boat drew nearer, it was seen to be a dug-out, hollowed from a single large log. The paddler was bearded and evidently was a white man. He wore a broad-brimmed black felt hat and a buckskin shirt; and a long-barrelled rifle leaned against the gunwale beside him.

He scarcely looked up until his dug-out grazed the gunwale of the steamboat. Then he tossed a plaited hemp painter or tie-rope aboard, a couple of roustabouts held the dug-out steady, and grasping his rifle he followed the tie-rope with himself, clambering easily over the bow. He strode for the stairs. In addition to hat and shirt, he wore buckskin pantaloons and moccasins; a powder-horn and bullet-pouch, and bowie-knife in hide scabbard.