[The Firing Line by Robert W. Chambers]@TWC D-Link bookThe Firing Line CHAPTER XII 18/22
Eudo skins very skilfully and there's plenty of salt in camp.
Look at that mist!" And so, chattering away in highest spirits they fell into file behind the Seminole and his lantern, who, in the thickening fog, looked like some slim luminous forest-phantom with great misty wings atrail from either shoulder. Treading the narrow way in each other's footsteps they heard, far in the darkness, the gruesome tumult of owls.
Once the Indian's lantern flashed on a snake which rose quickly from compact coils, hissing and distending its neck; but for all its formidable appearance and loud, defiant hissing the Indian picked up a palmetto fan and contemptuously tossed the reptile aside into the bog. "It's only a noisy puff-adder," said Shiela, who had retreated very close against Hamil, "but, oh, I don't love them even when they are harmless." And rather thoughtfully she disengaged herself from the sheltering arm of that all too sympathetic young man, and went forward, shivering a little as the hiss of the enraged adder broke out from the uncongenial mud where he had unwillingly landed. And so they came to their horses through a white mist which had thickened so rapidly that the Indian's lantern was now only an iridescent star ringed with rainbows.
And when they had been riding for twenty minutes Little Tiger halted them with lifted lantern and said quietly: "Chi-ho-ches-chee!" "Wh-at!" exclaimed the girl, incredulous. "What did he say ?" asked Hamil. "He says that he is lost!" Hamil stared around in dismay; a dense white wall shut out everything; the Indian's lantern at ten paces was invisible; he could scarcely see Shiela unless she rode close enough to touch his elbow. "Catch um camp," observed Little Tiger calmly.
"Loose bridle! Bimeby catch um camp.
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