The Legend of Tyoga Weathersby Read Online Free PDF Page B

onto the raised flat surface, and carefully slid its smooth flat surface onto the long spring. The spring collapsed under its formidable weight, but the jaws did not budge as the tremendous force of the remaining long spring was more than sufficient to keep the trap clamped in place.
    Snatching a long straight hickory stick from the ground, Tyoga steadied himself and carefully placed his left foot onto the flat iron face of the opposite long spring. Supporting himself with the hickory stick, his right foot left the ground, and his entire body weight came to bear on the long spring. Slowly, the jaws began to release their grip.
    Muscles straining in his legs, arms, shoulder and back while he supported himself with the hickory stick, he quaked from the force of his effort. He felt the jaws continue to loosen their vice-like grip while the sweat poured from his brow, into his eyes, and dripped off of his nose. When he flung the sweat from his eyes with a shake of his head, he caught a glimpse of a horrible sight.
    As the jaws were opening, the teeth imbedded into Tes Qua’s ankle were not releasing their hold on the bone. The more Tyoga opened the trap, the more Tes Qua’s foot was being torn from his lower leg.
    Beholding the gruesome sight, Tyoga realized the odd transformation that had taken place in the macabre device. Designed to entrap, maim and ultimately kill; the trap had become an instrument of a new, merciful purpose acting as a splint, holding foot to leg.
    The cruel jagged teeth that ravaged and sliced were now protective and conservatory. The trap hadn’t changed, and neither had its purpose, really. But the utility of its charge had been completely revoked.
    Tyoga couldn’t bear the thought nor the act of re-imprisonment,but with the strength draining from his now numb arms and violently shaking legs, he closed his eyes with the realization that the only course was to relinquish the progress so costly gained. He tightened his grip on the hickory stick while transferring his weight from the spring to his arms, and listened helplessly to the sickening sound as the teeth of the devilish jaws once again sank their teeth deep into his friend’s flesh and bone.
    When Tes Qua woke up, it was late afternoon.
    Tyoga had gone to the pond several hundred yards downstream to retrieve some supplies that they had hidden along the banks from their last fishing trip. There was a black obsidian tomahawk that Tes Qua’s uncle had given to him, a steel bladed knife that the boys had taken from the body of a trapper who had frozen to death on the summit of old Mount Rag several years ago, and a water gourd. Tyoga had filled the gourd with fresh water, placed the fishing weirs in the stream, and had built a fire in hopes of attracting some help.
    “A’tey a Ho?” (How are you doing?) Tyoga asked his friend when he saw him stir.
    “Ney da do, Ty.” (Not well.)
    “I know. Hurt much?”
    “No,” Tes Qua answered. “I can’t feel anything.”
    “Tsadulis tsaldati? I caught some fish.”
    “Tla. I’m not hungry.”
    “Thirsty?”
    “Hey ya. Esginehvsi.” Tes Qua took several long gulps of the cool mountain water from the gourd Tyoga handed to him. “What are we going to do, Ty?”
    “Gotta go fer help, Tes’a. Gonna be dark soon. Cain’t be here in the dark. Bad spot. Lotta sign.”
    “Can you make it back before dark, Ty?” Tes Qua looked around their campsite. “It’s a pretty long way back to Tuckareegee.”
    “Maybe. Maybe not. Won’t be too long after tho’,” Tyoga replied. “An’ I’ll be back dark or no. Would’a lef sooner, but I couldn’t leave ya sleepin’. Best get along now tho’.” He turned to spring toward the woods before stopping and pulling the obsidian tomahawk that he had secured in his belt and handing it to Tes Qua.
    “Here’s the tomahawk, Tes—just in case. Tes’a, yer gonna have ta tend th’ fire. Lotsa wood piled up here for ya, but cain’t leave the fire go out—or