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Altsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander), 1862-1919

"The Hunters of the Hills"


"I wish you'd hold my left hand in a firm grip," said Willet.
"I will, but why?" returned the youth.
"If I get a chance I'm going to drag up some of that dead and floating
wood and lay it along the edge of the shelf. In the dark the savages
can't pick us off, but we'll need a barrier in the morning."
"You're right, Dave, of course. I'm sorry I didn't think of it myself."
"One of us thought of it, and that's enough. Hold my hand hard, Robert.
Don't let your grip slip."
By patient waiting and help from the others Willet was able to draw up
two logs of fair size, and some smaller pieces which they placed
carefully on the edge of the stone shelf. Lying flat behind them, they
would be almost hidden, and now they could await the coming of daylight
with more serenity.
A long time passed. The three ate strips of the deer meat, and Robert
even slept for a short while. He awoke to find a further decrease in the
rain, although the river was still rising, and Tayoga and Willet were of
the opinion that it would stop soon, a belief that was justified in an
hour.


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