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Richardson, John, 1796-1852

"Hardscrabble; or, the fall of Chicago. a tale of Indian warfare"

"
"Now are you convinced?" asked Weston, addressing the
corporal, as both distinctly saw the object upon which
their attention had been anxiously fixed, raise his head
and shoulders, while he deliberately rested his rifle
against the log on his right.
"Close down, Cass--don't move," enjoined the Virginian;
"the bait has taken, and we shall have a shot presently."
Two almost imperceptible jets of spiral smoke, and crack,
crack, went two rifles, while simultaneously with the
report, fell back into the boat, the perforated forage
cap. Both balls had passed through it, and lodged in the
heart of the tree to which the skiff was moored, and
behind which Jackson and Philips had taken their stand.
Evidently believing that they had killed a man, the whole
of the band, hitherto concealed behind logs and trees, now
rose to their feet, and uttered a fierce and triumphant yell.
"Devilish good firin', that," remarked Green, whose face
had been touched by a splinter of bark torn from the tree
by one of the balls.
"Don't uncover yourselves, my lads," hastily commanded
the corporal; "all the fellows want now is to see us
exposed, that they may have a crack at us.


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