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In the Great Apache Forest The Story of a Lone Boy Scout von Schultz, James Willard (eBook)

  • Verlag: Madison & Adams Press
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In the Great Apache Forest

This book brings us the story of George Crosby, the Lone Boy Scout. George Crosby was born and has lived all of his seventeen years, in Greer, a settlement of a half-dozen pioneer families located on the Little Colorado River, in the White Mountains, Arizona. At the beginning of the Great War Geroge considered what he could do for the good cause. During the summer of 1918, the Supervisor of the Apache National Forest found himself woefully short of men, with the dreaded fire season coming on. Most of his rangers, fire lookouts, and patrols had gone to the war, and he could not find enough men of the right sort to take their place so George Crosby became a member of a troop of the Phoenix Boy Scouts of America. Contents: Alone on Mount Thomas The Mountain Cave The Firebugs at Work Hunting the Deserter The People-of-Peace The Wrongs of the Hopis The Old Men in Rain God's Cave The Death of Old Double Killer The Bear Skin Is Stolen Catching the Firebugs James Willard Schultz, or Apikuni, (1859 - 1947) was a noted author, explorer, Glacier National Park guide, fur trader and historian. He operated a fur trading post at Carroll, Montana and lived among the Pikuni tribe during the period 1880-82.


    Format: ePUB
    Kopierschutz: watermark
    Seitenzahl: 103
    Sprache: Englisch
    ISBN: 9788026892755
    Verlag: Madison & Adams Press
    Größe: 1192 kBytes
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In the Great Apache Forest

Chapter II.
The Mountain Cave

Table of Contents

Was I frightened at what I had glimpsed?

I was so badly scared that the beating of my heart seemed to be up in my throat and choking me! The shadowy thing I had seen was a man! And no friend, else he would not have been sneaking away from my approach. And swiftly though he had gone, I had not heard the slightest sound of his footsteps. He must, then, be an Apache, I thought. One of those renegades who, despite the vigilance of the soldiers, now and then somehow get possession of a gun and cartridges and sneak off upon a war trail of their own.

I did not know what to do. But after standing for a long time listening and staring about in the deepening night, I at last made a run for the cabin, got safely inside, and slammed shut the door and barred it. Then it suddenly dawned upon me that I must not light the lamp. I could curtain the windows with dishcloths, but there were all those yawning spaces between the logs that I could not cover, through which an enemy could see me and shoot me the instant that I struck a light. I sat upon the bunk and took off my shoes, and then, rifle in hand, stole from wall to wall of the cabin and stared out through the unchinked spaces; and for all the good that did, might as well have stuck my head into a sack. The night was intensely dark; I could not even see the pile of split white-spruce stovewood less than ten feet from the south wall!

But, presently, I heard something; like the cautious steps of some one to the east of the cabin. Just such sounds as I imagined moccasined feet would make upon the stony ground. They had been faint at first; they became fainter and soon ceased. I stood against the wall a long time. My legs began to tremble. I felt my way back to the bunk and sat upon it, again listening, open-mouthed, for those shuffling, soft, padding steps. I must have sat there for hours. I was hungry, but did not dare risk the noise I should make in opening the iron food chest for a handful of crackers and some cheese. And how I wished that I was down home, safe in my bed! This was my first night away from my people; and here I was, eleven miles from them, and in danger. How sorry I was for myself! Several times I went sound asleep sitting straight up upon the bunk, and awoke with a start, and scolded myself, and said that I just would keep awake! Then the next I knew dawn had come, and I was lying flat upon my back, my rifle tightly gripped with both hands. I sprang up and looked out of the windows, and through the wall spaces, and saw nothing to alarm me. The daylight itself was heartening. I slowly unbarred the door and stepped out upon the little porch. About twenty feet away a porcupine was descending a small spruce that he had partly denuded of its bark. When he left the trunk and waddled off down the slope, he made just the shuffling noise that I had heard in the night: ''You are the Apache that was prowling around here, you scalper of trees!" I yelled to him, and the sound of my voice was good in my ears. And seizing a stick I took after him and knocked him in the head. All Forest Service men are required to kill porcupines, for in the course of a year they do a great deal of damage to the forest.

I went back to the cabin, built a fire in the little stove, and washed face and hands. Then, as I sliced some bacon, opened a can of corn, and made some biscuits, it suddenly came to me that, though the porcupine had probably made the noise I had heard in the night, he certainly was not the shadowy figure I had seen skurrying into the shelter of the spruces! All my fears of the night were back in me with a rush. The temptation to seize my rifle and strike out on the run down the mountain for home was almost irresistible. Then I said to myself: "I've just got to stay here! I've got to stick to this job no matter what happens to me! My Uncle Cleve is n't ru

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