The Hunters of the Ozark | Page 7

he could not go wrong, though a
boy of less experience in the woods would have been sure to do so.
Now, if any of you lads have ever driven cows or sheep, around whose
necks bells were hung, you have noticed the natural fact that they have
a sound peculiar to themselves. Referring particularly to cows, you may
have observed the jangle, jangle, made by the motion of the head in
cropping the grass, varied now and then by the confused jumble caused
by the animal flinging her head over the back of her neck or fore part of
the body to drive away the insects plaguing her. There is a certain
regularity in all this which will continue for hours, and that may be said
to be produced by the natural action of the animal, and which is
altogether different from that made by the swaying motion of the hand.
But Terry Clark inherited a sharpness of wits from his parents, and,
while pushing forward among the trees and undergrowth, it struck him
that there were several curious features about the matter.
"It was a mistake, as Fred said," he thought more than once, "that we

did not bring our guns with us."
Then the second sound of the cow-bell fell upon the ear of Fred Linden;
Terry was within a hundred feet of the point whence it came, and he
could not have heard it more distinctly had he been standing on the spot
himself. The noise was so peculiar that a flood of misgiving
overwhelmed him. The tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, was so regular that nothing
was plainer than that no living quadruped could have made the sound.
"That was not the cow," whispered the startled Terry; "she has more
sinse than to do any thing of the kind, as me uncle used to obsarve whin
he was accused of kaapin' sober; but I'll find out by the same token
what it all means."
Since he had no firearms with which to defend himself, and since he
was sure he was threatened by danger, he ought to have hastened
homeward; but his curiosity would not permit him to do so.
He advanced with all the caution possible, parting the obstructing
bushes in front and stepping as lightly on the carpet of leaves as though
he were a scout entering the camp of an enemy. He often stopped,
listened and peered, not only in front and the sides, but to the rear.
Whatever might take place, he did not intend to be surprised.
He had advanced a couple of rods in this manner, when a faint sound
from the bell caught his ear, but was instantly suppressed, as though
some one had stopped at the instant he started to sway it. Faint as was
the tinkle, however, he was able to locate the precise point whence it
came, and after a little hesitation he moved toward it.
All at once he caught sight of a figure in a crouching position, stepping
softly among the trees and undergrowth. He stood still, and a moment
later was able to distinguish the figure of an Indian warrior, bending
slightly forward, advancing inch by inch and holding the cow-bell in
his hand.
CHAPTER IV.

A PARTY OF THE THIRD PART.
The Indian warrior whom Terry Clark saw advancing stealthily through
the undergrowth, cow-bell in hand, was a frightful object. His head and
shoulders were bent forward, and he was stepping slowly and silently,
while he glanced from right to left, as if searching for some object, or
awaiting the occurrence of an expected event. His face was daubed
with black and red paint, his long hair, as coarse as that of a horse's tail,
dangled about his shoulders and alongside his neck, so that his eyes,
when staring through it, seemed to be blazing among so much tangled
brush. The ordinary hunting shirt, fringed in front, inclosed his chest,
and was gathered at the waist by a sash or belt into which were thrust
his hunting knife and tomahawk. The usual breechcloth, leggins and
moccasins completed his dress.
He carried a fine rifle in his left hand, in a trailing position, while a
powder horn and bullet pouch were supported by a string passing over
his shoulder. He was what may be called a thoroughly equipped warrior,
without taking into account the cow-bell, which was suspended by the
thumb and fingers of the right hand. It was thus he must have grasped
the implement when he caused it to give out the sound that caught the
ear of Fred Linden and Terry Clark. But at the moment the Irish lad
saw him, and for some minutes after, he held the bell in such careful
poise that it gave no sound at all.
The Indian