I'm a good
scout, Mr. Scott, and I'll see what's up. Watch here will you, until I
come back? It may be some time."
"All right, but don't get yourself captured, Weber. I'd be mighty
lonesome without you."
"Don't fear for me. Of course, as I told you, I'll be gone for some
time, and if I may suggest, Mr. Scott, I wouldn't move from among the
vines."
"Catch me doing it! I'll say here in my green bower and as my eyes are
back in form I'll watch the heavens."
"Good-bye, then, for a while."
Weber slipped away. His tread was so light that he vanished, as if he
had melted into air.
"That man would certainly have made a good scout in our old Indian
days," thought John, and with the thought came the conviction that Weber
was too clever to let himself be caught. Then he turned his attention
back to the heavens.
They were now well on into the afternoon, and the sun was at the zenith.
A haze of gold shimmered against the vast blue vault. A wind perfumed
with grass and green leaves, brought also the ceaseless roar of the
guns, and now and then the bitter taste of burned gunpowder. The faint
trembling of the earth, or rather of the air just above it, went on, and
John, turning about in his little bower, surveyed the heavens from all
quarters.
He saw shapes, faint, dark and floating on every horizon, but none of
them came near until a full half-hour had elapsed. Then one shot out of
the west, sailed toward the northeast, but curving suddenly, came back
in the direction of the tree.
Pages:
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210