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Seton, Ernest Thompson, 1860-1946

"Being the adventures of two boys who lived as Indians and what they learned"

Could 'a' done
it, too, with a gun. Had a shy at him with an arrow an' I hain't been
bird or arrow since. 'Twas my best arrow, too--old Sure-Death."
"Will ye give me the arrow if I kin find it?" said Guy.
"Now you bet I won't. What good'd that be to me?"
"Will you give me your chewin' gum?"
"No."
"Will you lend it to me?"
"Yep."
"Well, there's your old arrow," said Guy, pulling it from between the
logs where it had fallen. "I seen it go there an' reckoned I'd lay low
an' watch the progress of events, as Yan says," and Guy whinnied.
Early in the morning the Indians in war-paint went off on a prowl.
They carried their bows and arrows, of course, and were fully alert,
studying the trail at intervals and listening for "signs of the
enemy."
Their moccasined feet gave forth no sound, and their keen eyes took in
every leaf that stirred as their sinewy forms glided among the huge
trunks of the primeval vegetation--at least, Yan's note-book said they
did. They certainly went with very little noise, but they disturbed a
small Hawk that flew from a Balsam-fir--a "Fire tree" they now called
it, since they had discovered the wonderful properties of the wood.


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