Were this a mere tale of fancy, here would be a fine opportunity for
weaving in strange adventures among these wild mountains and roving
hunters; and, after involving my hero in a variety of perils and
difficulties, rescuing him from them all by some miraculous
contrivance: but as this is absolutely a true story, I must content
myself with simple facts, and keep to probabilities.
At an early hour the next day, therefore, after a hearty morning's
meal, the encampment broke up, and our adventurers embarked in the
pinnace of Antony Vander Heyden. There being no wind for the sails,
the Indians rowed her gently along, keeping time to a kind of chant of
one of the white men: The day was serene and beautiful; the river
without a wave; and as the vessel cleft the glassy water, it left a
long, undulating track behind. The crows, who had scented the hunters'
banquet, were already gathering and hovering in the air, just where a
column of thin, blue smoke, rising from among the trees, showed the
place of their last night's quarters. As they coasted along the bases
of the mountains, the Heer Antony pointed out to Dolph a bald eagle,
the sovereign of these regions, who sat perched on a dry tree that
projected over the river; and, with eye turned upwards, seemed to be
drinking in the splendour of the morning sun.
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