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Munroe, Kirk, 1850-1930

"The Flamingo Feather"

Wearily the tired boy
climbed to its summit, from which, as he gazed up the river, he saw
with a heavy heart the yellow banner of Spain flaunting itself above
the walls of Fort Caroline. As its folds glistened in the bright
sunshine, for the storm of the past four days had passed away with the
night, they seemed to him like those of some huge and venomous serpent,
and he turned from the sight with a shudder.
On the other hand, in the far distance, he saw, still lying at anchor,
the two small ships which he believed to be, as they were, the only
representatives of the power of France now left in the New World. On
these he placed all his hopes of escape, of future happiness, and of
life itself.
Anxious as he was to reach the ships and to rejoin his uncle, the poor
lad's exhausted frame could withstand the terrible strain upon it no
longer. It pleaded for a rest so effectually that Rene flung himself
upon a pile of wet moss, determined to snatch an hour's sleep before
attempting to proceed farther.
As the boy slept he was visited by troublous dreams that caused him to
toss his arms and moan pitifully; and no wonder, after the horrid
scenes of which he had so recently been a spectator; no wonder, too,
when new and terrible dangers threatened him closely even as he slept.
Had he been awake he would have noticed the approach of a small band of
Indians, who, appearing on the edge of the forest, made their way
directly towards the bluff.


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