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The White Squaw
The White Squaw
Chapter One.
A Deadly Introduction
The last golden gleams of the setting sun sparkled across the translucent waters of Tampa Bay. This fading light fell upon shores fringed with groves of oak and magnolia, whose evergreen leaves became gradually darkened by the purple twilight.
A profound silence, broken by the occasional notes of a tree-frog, or the flapping of the night-hawk’s wings, was but the prelude to that wonderful concert of animated nature heard only in the tropical forest.
A few moments, and the golden lines of trembling light had disappeared, while darkness almost palpable overshadowed the scene.
Then broke forth in full chorus the nocturnal voices of the forest.
The mocking-bird, the whip-poor-will, the bittern, the bell-frog, grasshoppers, wolves, and alligators, all joined in the harmony incident to the hour of night, causing a din startling to the ear of a stranger.
Now and then would occur an interval of silence, which rendered the renewal of the voices all the more observable.
During one of these pauses a cry might have been heard differing from all the other sounds.
It was the voice of a human being, and there was one who heard it.
Making his way through the woods was a young man, dressed in half-hunter costume, and carrying a rifle in his hand. The cry had caused him to stop suddenly in his tracks.
After glancing cautiously around, as if endeavouring to pierce the thick darkness, he again advanced, again came to a stop, and remained listening. Once more came that cry, in which accents of anger were strangely commingled with tones appealing for help.