It was not to be supposed that a party of Indians could be checked by a stream of water. If necessary they could swim across, but, inasmuch as the party separated, and while several went up, the rest walked down the stream, it was evident they were searching for a more suitable spot in which to make the passage.
Jack Carleton followed the larger party, which had gone only a few rods when a whoop from the others made known they had found what was wanted. The rest immediately turned around and joined them.
Jack saw at once that the means were provided for passing over dry shod. A tree, some six or eight inches in diameter, lay with the butt on one shore and the upper portion on the opposite bank. A glance showed that it had been felled by the axe of some pioneer, who probably thus formed a bridge for himself and friends. The limbs had been trimmed away, and the abraded bark proved that it had served a similar purpose for many wild beasts in passing to and fro. The faded color of the gashes in the trunk showed that a long time had passed since the bridge was made by the woodman's axe.
Nothing better could be required, and several grunts of satisfaction escaped the warriors during the minute they stood together viewing the support that awaited the pressing of their feet.
Jack Carleton stepped forward, but one of the Indians grasped his arm and drew him back so violently as almost to throw him to the ground. The boy looked wonderingly in his face, and saw that it was aglow with passion. He shook his head rapidly and spoke fast and furious.
"I think I can guess what you mean," said Jack, stepping back, so as to allow the others to precede him, "and I will now await your commands."
He stood still until three had gone over, when they beckoned him to follow. Jack had noticed that when the Indians were walking on the log, they were obliged to move carefully, for their foothold was narrow and the swift running current was apt to make one dizzy. The lad, however, stepped forward without hesitation and advanced slowly but with certainty.
The three warriors, who stood facing him on the shore, showed that like Deerfoot the Shawanoe, they possessed a certain vein of waggery, for at the moment Jack was over the middle of the stream, one of them stooped, and, grasping the head of the trunk, moved it quickly fully a couple of feet to the right, all three bursting into an audible snicker at the same moment. The lad was looking downward, meanwhile stepping carefully, when he glanced across to learn the meaning of the action, the stooping Indian being in his field of vision.
Jack understood the trick, but he was without the means of defeating it. He stooped quickly with the intention of grasping the support with both hands, but before he could do so, he lost his balance, flung his arms aloft, and down he went with a loud splash that sent the spray flying in all directions.
No audience of countrymen ever laughed more heartily at the ancient jokes of a clown than did the five Indians when the boy disappeared under the water, his eyes staring with the shock of affright which came with his sudden contact with the current.
Jack was a capital swimmer, and he was satisfied there was no wish to drown him; but he had scarcely passed below the surface, when it occurred to him that there was a possibility of turning the jest upon his captors. The water was very deep, and he kept sinking until his feet softly touched the bottom. As he gave himself the slight impulse which sent him upward again, he not only swam swiftly with the rapid current, but moved as close to shore as possible, and began creeping up the side of the bank.
In doing this, he over-estimated his own strength. It took him a longer time to reach the surface than he calculated upon, and he narrowly escaped strangling; but he resolutely held out to the last second.
At the moment the rushing waters seemed to roar through his brain, his crown cleft the surface, and he drew a deep inspiration of the blessed air; but, even in that trying moment, he kept his self-possession, and the breath was taken so softly that no ear beside his own knew it.
He had emerged close to shore and directly under some overhanging brush, which was not so dense as he could wish, since he was able to see the warriors standing on the land and looking for him. It followed, therefore, that if they should scrutinize the bank very closely they would discover him; but the boy's hope lay in their lack of suspicion that such an artifice was in his mind.
Several circumstances united to help the youth; the water was roiled, as has already been said, while the friction of the swift current against the shore made a noise which overcame the slight ripple caused by his own movements. Only his nose and eyes were kept above the surface, and the shrubbery which inclosed them made a tolerable screen, though less effective than he desired.
Jack had landed, as may be said, a dozen yards below the log from which he had been thrown and on the side from which he set out, consequently he was opposite the five Indians who stood on the shore. He was led to do this from a natural desire to get as far away as he could from his captors, but it was a mistake on his part, for had he crawled under the other bank he would have been hidden altogether from the sight of the Indians.
Holding to a wire-like root with his left hand, he swung around so as to face up stream, and, through the slight spaces in the shrubbery kept his eyes fixed intently on the brawny red men.
Very soon the warriors looked at each other, and talked rapidly and with growing excitement. There could be no doubt they were discussing the unexpected shape matters had taken; the joke played on their captive had proven a very serious matter to him. It must have been that the pale-faced youth was unable to swim and was drowned. The white warrior was a pappoose.
"By and by they will make search for me," was the thought of Jack Carleton, still retaining his hold, "and then will come the tug of war. It won't be the live boy they'll expect to find, but his dead body, bobbing up and down and back and forth, and yet I don't see why they will care to hunt me up."
Whatever might be the issue, Jack was warranted in feeling hopeful, for he was sure the incident had taken a turn entirely unexpected to the warriors.
"If I had only floated a little further down stream," he thought more than once, noticing a sharp bend made by the current, "I would have been in a good deal better situation than this, for I would have been out of their sight altogether."
Several times he was on the point of letting go and dropping further down, but he dreaded some mistake which would draw attention to the spot. If he should try to swim under the surface, he might be forced to come up too soon, or might strike some obstruction in the stream that would fling him over as though he was a porpoise. It was the fear of a catastrophe of this nature which held him where he was, while he peered through the shrubbery like some wild animal glaring out from his covert upon his enemies.
The face of every Indian was in sight, and he studied the expression of each broad, coppery countenance. He knew they were talking by the movements of the thin lips, and, despite the noise of the rushing stream, he heard one of them grunt several times. This particular warrior was shorter and more solidly built than the rest, and appeared to be some kind of a leader, for he had the most to say, and the boy noticed, while on the march, that he directed the actions of the rest.
This Indian, as he stood, held his rifle in his right hand, while the thumb of his left was hooked over the belt at his waist, which supported his knife and tomahawk. His stomach protruded somewhat, and, when he spoke in his sententious manner, the belt would rise and sink in a spasmodic fashion which kept time with his words.
Jack kept close watch of the black eyes, which, like those of professional hunters and scouts, were never at rest. They flitted hither and thither, up and down stream and even to the rear, as though danger were apprehended from that direction.
What the boy was expecting and dreading was a search on the part of the Indians. None could know better than they how brief a time is required for a person to drown, and they were not long in arriving at the conclusion that the boy either was dead, or had left the stream at a point below. Three savages walked hastily over the creek on the log and began moving along shore, their serpent-like eyes scanning every foot of land and water that came in their field of vision. At the same time, the other two did the same from the opposite shore, and Jack Carleton knew that the crisis had come.
He felt quite secure against being seen by the two who were traveling together, for he was able to dispose of the undergrowth so as to increase its usefulness. While one hand held fast to the tough root, he softly drew down the bush with the other, so that it interposed between him and the couple who were held in such dread. If the others should step to the edge of the stream and part the bushes, it would be all up with the frightened lad.
The necessities of the case forced Jack to raise his head until both ears were above the surface, and thus, while he employed his eyes to follow the movements of the couple, he sought to use his ears to discover the approach of the trio, though the rushing torrent forbade full success in that respect.
The two warriors were in plain sight as they slowly picked their way downward. Jack saw the upper parts of their bodies, and his heart throbbed faster when they faced about and came down to the edge of the water. However, they were still several yards above him, so that he was quite certain they did not suspect his hiding-place. When they halted and leaned over the stream, the fugitive gave no thought to those who were undoubtedly much closer, but sank until only forehead, eyes and nose were in the air, while the scanty bush was drawn still closer to his face.
All at once, Jack's heart seemed to stand still; he saw that one of the Indians was looking straight at the spot where he was in hiding. The black orbs were centered upon him with such an inquiring expression, that he was sure he had been discovered. All hope was gone, until a moment after he observed that the savage was peering at the undergrowth below him, as though suspicious of everything which could afford any sort of a hiding-place.
"He didn't see me after all," was the conclusion of the delighted boy, "and now if the others let me alone, I shall have a chance to give them the slip."
Again the waists and shoulders of the two were observed moving slowly among the trees and undergrowth, until they passed out of sight, a considerable distance below the crouching fugitive. The relief of the latter was unspeakable, though he could not forget that other foes were also to be avoided.
But minute after minute passed, and still Jack saw and heard nothing of the red men. With each passing minute his hopes rose, until at the end of half an hour, he felt that his safety was well nigh secured.
"They have concluded I was drowned and my body is not likely to come to the surface for some time—anyway not until it is a long way from this spot. If they don't return, I'm safe."
But a thrill of alarm passed through him more than once, when he recalled that the strategy he had employed was of such a simple nature that it ought to suggest itself to the red men. If such was the case they would be certain to return to the fallen tree, renew their search, and prosecute it with greater care.
It was the dread of the latter which led Jack to creep carefully out of the stream, after he had been in hiding perhaps half an hour. Of course his clothing was saturated, and he had become chilled from his long submersion, so that his teeth rattled, and he trembled in every limb. Extended flat on the ground, he crawled with the utmost care until a couple of rods from the water. Then he stopped and listened. He was so far from the stream that its noise did not prevent him detecting any slight noise which might have been made by some other cause, but he heard nothing at all.
There was still considerable undergrowth around him, so that he felt screened from the observation of any other Indians wandering in the vicinity.
"They thought they were very cunning," muttered Jack, with a chuckle, "when they tumbled me into the water, but I played a trick on them worth two of their kind. I only wish there was some way of letting them know how completely I have outwitted them——"
A cold shiver passed down the spine of Jack Carleton, when he distinctly heard a guttural, grunting laugh behind him. Turning like a flash, he saw the five Indian warriors from whom, up to that moment, he had believed he was free, standing within a rod, and all grinning to an extent that seemed to take the corners of their mouths around to their ears.
The truth broke upon Jack: the red men had never lost sight of him, except for the moment he was under the water. They knew where he was when he supposed himself invisible, and they had been amusing themselves at his expense.
On the evening succeeding the departure of Jack Carleton and Otto Relstaub from the little settlement of Martinsville, the widowed mother of Jack was seated by her fireside engaged in knitting. The night was cold, and the huge sticks of wood were roaring and crackling in the broad fireplace, and throwing a cheerful glow and warmth through the room. The tallow candle on the mantel had not been lit, for there was no need of it, and, despite the loneliness and poverty of the sad-faced woman, there was an air of neatness and comfort about her home which would have tempted any one who could look through the narrow window into the homely, old-fashioned apartment.
The deft fingers flew back and forth as regularly as the most delicate machinery, until all at once the lady stopped and allowed her hands to rest in her lap. At the same moment a sigh escaped her, and she looked into the glowing embers.
It was not hard to guess where her thoughts were; they were with that only child who had gone forth in the woods to help the German lad look for the missing horse. Mrs. Carleton smiled as she reflected upon a certain absurdity which marked the whole business, for, look at it as she chose, there was something grotesque in the project of two youths setting out to hunt for a horse that had been wandering for days in a limitless wood. But the smile quickly gave way to the serious expression which not often left the face of the mother since that awful night when her husband was stricken down by the fierce red men of Kentucky.
"I trust God will not forget my boy," were the almost inaudible words that came to her lips. "He has wonderfully preserved him through many perils, and my heart misgives me now that I allowed him to go from under my roof."
Just then the latch-string was spitefully pulled, the door was pushed inward, and Jacob Relstaub entered. The angry man was short of stature, clumsily dressed, and the only weapon he carried was a heavy, knotted cane, if that may be termed such, which was his companion when moving about the sparse settlement. It has already been said that he was parsimonious, cross-grained, and cruel-hearted, and he had been in specially ill-temper since the return of his boy without the horse upon which so much value was set.
The door swung to of itself, and the German, stopping short in the middle of the room, banged his cane upon the floor, and, looking savagely at the quiet lady who had nodded and bidden him good evening, demanded:
"Vere is mine poy, Otto?"
"Don't you know?" asked the widow in return, with a tone of surprise.
"No, I does not; he says he goes off mit your poy, but dey both lies—don't it?"
"My boy never tells a falsehood," was the quiet response of Mrs. Carleton, whose pale cheek slightly flushed. "Your Otto told the truth as you well know. Not only that, but he only obeyed you when he went out in the woods to run into all kinds of danger in search of an animal which I do not believe can possibly be found."
"All poys ish bad," said the visitor with an impatient sniff, as he took off his cap and slouched to a chair on the opposite side of the fire. "Your poy ish badder dan any oder poy; mine Otto is lazy, and if he doesn't pring pack dot horse I vill pounds him till he don't live."
"He maynevercome back," said the lady in a low, impressive voice which would have moved anyone else, but it was lost on the boorish visitor.
"Hoof! No fear of dot; he alvays comes back ven ve doesn't vant him to come back."
"Well," said Mrs. Carleton with a sigh, "I am sorry I let Jack go, for if he had insisted on staying home your boy would have done the same, though if I was in Otto's place I would consider the woods, with all their dangers and sufferings, preferable to living with a parent who is as unfeeling as you."
Jacob Relstaub had both of his horny hands folded over the top of his heavy cane, which rested on the floor between his large shoes, while his cap, somewhat resembling the peaked head-gear of his boy, lay beside him. His broad, ill-favored countenance was darkened by a frown, and it was easy for the lady to see that the fellow still doubted her word. His manner of looking about the large room, and a habit of listening intently, as though he expected to bear approaching footsteps, showed that he suspected Otto was hiding somewhere in the cabin. Mrs. Carleton understood his feelings and she was annoyed to anger, for her sensitive nature felt the insult keenly. Beside, she despised the coarse nature of the man who seemed so totally lacking in humanity.
The lady was on the point of reproving him with sharp words, when both were astonished by a gentle knock on the door, such a hail being contrary to all the rules of the frontier, when the latch-string is not drawn in. Both looked quickly toward the entrance, and the lady raised her voice and said:
"The latch-string is out!"
The words were yet on her lips when it was pulled, and the door swung inward.
The firelight fell upon the figure of an Indian warrior, who stopped on the threshold as if he doubted whether he would be welcome when those within saw him. As he stood with the blank darkness behind him and the crimson glow from the burning logs lighting up the front of his body, he formed a most striking picture.
He was the ideal of symmetry and manly beauty—one of those productions of the American race which are very rare, but which, when seen, are the nearest approach to physical and mental perfection that is ever attained in this world. He was about five feet ten inches in height, and with body and limbs in as perfect proportion as the chisel of Phidias ever carved from marble. Even his long, black hair, which hung luxuriantly and loosely about his shoulders, was of softer texture than is the rule with his people. Several stained eagle feathers slanted upward and outward from the crown, and a double row of brilliant beads encircled his neck. A fine gold bracelet clasped his left wrist, and the deer-skin hunting shirt and leggings were clean, and of the finest possible make. They retained their dull, yellow hue, but the girdle which clasped his body at the waist was of a red color, so bright that it seemed likely to attract dangerous attention in the forest. The leggings were fringed, and the delicate moccasins were also ornamented with colored beads. The heavy blanket which he carried during severe weather was lacking, for it would have been only an encumbrance when the climate was mild.
Into the girdle were thrust a tomahawk and hunting knife, while a long bow was carried in his right hand, and a quiver full of arrows rested behind his right shoulder, where they could be snatched forth on the instant. The youthful warrior carried no firearms, for he depended alone on the primitive weapons which his people had used for centuries.
Splendid as were the frame and limbs of the youth, the greatest attraction lay in his countenance. His features were classical in their regularity, excepting the nose, which was just enough aquiline to give character to his face, and take away the femininity which otherwise might cling to it.
When he smiled in his faint, shadowy fashion, his teeth were seen to be small, white, regular, and without the slightest defect, while the lustrous black eyes glowed with light and feeling. Having closed the door behind him, he still hesitated to advance until assured he was welcome.
Although Mrs. Carleton had never seen him before, she was certain of his identity, and, rising from her seat, she asked:
"Are you Deerfoot the Shawanoe?"
He smiled and inclined his head.
"You are the friend of my boy, and of Otto, the son of Mr. Relstaub. There is no one in the world who could be more welcome than you. Come forward and take a seat nearer the fire."
The dusky countenance flushed with pleasure, for the words were warmer than he was accustomed to hear.
Deerfoot advanced a couple of steps, and, reaching over, drew the rude stool to him. His diffidence would not allow him to go very near the blaze.
When Jacob Relstaub heard the name pronounced, he uttered an angry sniff and banged his cane upon the floor. He said nothing; but he detested the handsome Indian youth, whom he had driven from his door when he asked for shelter, and he knew he had been the companion of his boy on the stirring journey from Kentucky to Louisiana. It mattered not that the masterful woodcraft of the dusky friend had saved the life of Otto Relstaub; all that the German remembered was that the valuable horse was lost, and he blamed this Indian for it, as he censured Jack Carleton for the same misfortune. The man, however, said nothing for a few minutes.
It was manifest from the manner of Deerfoot that he was disappointed because he did not meet Jack Carleton. He cast but a single glance around the apartment, which showed him his young friend was not present; then, as he gently seated himself, he looked into the pale face of the widow and said:
"Deerfoot sees not his brother."
"No; Jack and Otto set out on a long hunt this morning. They may be back in a few days and perhaps not for a fortnight."
"Have they gone to look for the horse that was lost?"
"Yes," answered the lady, with a smile; "I am ashamed to say they have; but I ask your pardon; have you had supper? Will you not permit me to give you to eat?"
She was about to rise when Deerfoot, who was resting his bow on the floor, while he grasped the center as though it was a cane, motioned with his left hand for her to retain her seat.
"The mother of my friend is good and kind, but Deerfoot cannot eat."
He appeared to be on the point of saying something more, but restrained himself. The mother was quick to perceive it, and a pang of dread stirred her heart.
"What were you about to say?" she asked, in her abrupt fashion, suspending the knitting which she was in the very act of resuming.
Deerfoot was too truthful to deceive her outright; but it is fair to presume he did not say all that was in his thoughts.
"Deerfoot is sorry his brothers have gone to look for the horse."
"Why?" quickly asked the mother.
"They cannot find him."
"Vy don't they finds him?" asked Jacob Relstaub, banging his cane again and glaring fiercely at the youth, as though ready to spring upon him.
Deerfoot looked calmly in the forbidding countenance, and asked, more directly than was his custom:
"Are you the father of my brother, Otto?"
"Yaw; of course I ish. He is one pad poy, as you ish de wust Injin dot effer vasn't."
Without the least visible excitement, and in the same deliberate monotone, Deerfoot still looking him straight in the face:
"The father of Otto is a dog; he has no heart. The Great Spirit hides his face with shame when he looks upon him."
"Vat!" roared Jacob, half rising to his chair and grasping his knobby cane with both hands, while he trembled with rage. "You don't speak dot vays to me and I breaks your head."
He suddenly straightened up, and all aglow with fury advanced upon Deerfoot, who placed his left hand on his knife, quietly arose and faced him, without speaking.
Jacob Relstaub was so accustomed to the undisturbed abuse of his son that he was struck almost speechless by the calm defiance of the Indian youth. When he saw the latter place his hand on the knife at his girdle, the German could not fail to know its meaning. He stopped short with his cane half raised and glared savagely at Deerfoot.
"You means to kills me, eh, don't it? Yaw,—I sees,—I sees!"
And shaking his head very fast, and muttering some vigorous words in his own language, he stamped towards the door, swung it open and passed out in the darkness. Deerfoot stood motionless, looking in the direction whence he had vanished, and then, without a word, sat down on the rude chair and looked toward Mrs. Carleton, seated as she was near the fire.
The good lady was terrified, but the incident was so brief that it was over before she fairly understood its full meaning and the ill-natured caller was gone.
"He is such a bad-tempered man that I'm afraid he will hurt you for this," said she, stepping hastily to the door, where she drew in the latch-string, thus locking the humble cabin against intruders. When she sat down, with her scared look and her words of misgiving on her lips, Deerfoot looked from the crackling fire into her countenance. As the yellow glow lit up his handsome features, they showed the faintest possible smile, which vanished the same moment it appeared. The matchless redskin must have appreciated the grim humor involved in the thought of his feeling any fear of the curmudgeon who had just gone.
Previous to that the young Shawanoe had glanced around the cabin, and like another Houdin, impressed every point in his memory. He noted the narrow windows through which a hostile shot could be fired from the outside. He did not believe the late visitor would proceed to that length, but he shifted his seat to a point several feet away, where, if Relstaub relied on his previous knowledge for his aim, no possible harm could be done.
Deerfoot made his change in such a quiet fashion, that his hostess had not the slightest suspicion of its meaning. She saw that he had simply moved closer to the fire. The space between her own chair and that of the visitor was such that there was no call for her to change her location: had there been the slightest, Deerfoot would not have permitted her to wait.
"My brother will hurt no one," said he in his quiet fashion: "he is a bad man; he has a good boy, Otto; Deerfoot calls him his brother, and will do much for him; but Deerfoot does not like his father."
"I wassoafraid he would strike you with his cane," said the lady, still trembling over the remembrance, "and then you would have used your knife."
The smile was more pronounced than before, but the words were scarcely audible.
"He could not hurt Deerfoot and Deerfoot would not hurt him."
The lady fully understood his meaning, and it lifted a great fear from her heart that Jacob Relstaub would return, demand admittance, and attack her guest. True, he might do so, but she saw that in such an event the results would be farcical rather than tragical.
Deerfoot did not care to give any further thought to the despicable man. He had come to the settlement to visit Jack Carleton and Otto Relstaub, and found they were absent on a singular hunt for the horse that had been missing fully a week. His interest lay in them, and especially in Jack. He had heard most of the facts from the mother, but he now questioned her further in his gentle way until not a particle of information was left for her to give.
The substance of that information has already been told the reader,—it being nothing more than the statement of their departure early that morning. The startling events which followed could not be suspected by the parent, who sat so quietly knitting and talking with the remarkable Indian youth on the other side of her hearthstone, as ignorant as she of the alarming situation in which both were placed.
But while so quiet in his demeanor, the wonderful brain of the youth was always busy during his waking hours. He could not feel that there was cause for fear on account of his friends, for, as has already been shown, that portion of the enormous territory of Louisiana was peopled by Indians much less vicious in their hatred than were those who made Kentucky their hunting-ground. A fierce party of Shawanoes had followed the little party across the Mississippi the previous week, and they kept matters moving in a very lively manner, as the reader learned long ago; but it was not to be supposed that any of those daring and skillful warriors were in the neighborhood, for it was not conceivable that a cause existed for their presence.
But a singular distrust took possession of Deerfoot. He could not account for it, except as he accounted for all inexplainable things, as being the direct prompting of the Great Spirit. Many a time the instinctive belief had come over him, and he had never failed to follow its guidance; the result in each instance proved that he did right, and he resolved to do the same in the present case, though it will be seen that he could take no real step forward until the coming of daylight.
"You will stay here until morning," said Mrs. Carleton, looking into the face of her visitor and speaking as though the matter was not at all in the nature of a question.
"Deerfoot may stay awhile, though he would rather sleep in the woods, where he can breathe the cool, pure air, and look at the stars, and listen to the whispers of the Great Spirit who watches over him when he is asleep or awake."
"You can sleep on Jack's bed, and he will be pleased, when he comes home, to learn that you did so, though he will be sorry that he was not here to make you welcome."
The Indian shook his head. He had no wish to lie on any such couch, and he had not done so since he was wounded and a prisoner in the hands of the white people.
"Deerfoot will sit here and read until he becomes weary; then he will lie on the floor; and when he awakes he will seek his brothers who are hunting for the horse that has long been lost."
Mrs. Carleton had been told by Jack how skillfully Deerfoot could read and write, and she now ventured the hope that he would use the Bible which lay on the table at the side of the cabin. She was on the point of rising to get it for him, when he motioned her to keep her seat.
"Deerfoot has his Bible with him."
And then he drew the tiny volume with its wooden covers from the interior pocket of his hunting-shirt, and shifted his position so that his back was turned toward the fire, whose glow passed over his shoulders and fell upon the printed page. This gave him all the light he needed, and, after rustling the leaves for a moment, he began, in his low, sweet monotone.
As may be supposed, he selected one of the chapters from Revelation, overflowing as it does with the most impressive grandeur and awe-inspiring glimpse of the mysterious life from whose portals no human being has ever turned back to whisper to the vast procession waiting to follow in his footsteps.
Mrs. Carleton saw that Deerfoot did not like her words of compliment and she therefore refrained. When he had finished, he closed the book and laid it away where he always carried it, and then the conversation went on in the same vein as before.
But the hour was later than that to which the good lady was accustomed, and, despite the singular interest of the interview, she began to feel a slight drowsiness. When she placed her hand over her mouth and yawned, Deerfoot asked that she should retire. She consented, and bade him good-night and withdrew.
He sat motionless until he was alone, when he once more drew out his Bible and resumed reading. The fire having smoldered, he stirred the sticks, turning the unburned ends among the coals, so that in a few moments the small room was filled with a brighter illumination than before. Leaning backward with the book in front of his face and his shapely legs extended in front, he studied with an interest more absorbing than was ever felt by the most devout novel reader. He seemed to lose all consciousness of time and place, and pored over the volume which to him was more precious than any treasure it is possible for the mind to conceive.
By-and-by the fire burned low again and the light grew dim. Though the youth might have continued the perusal much longer, he finally ceased and put the book away for the night. Then, folding his arms, he looked into the smoldering embers before him. Every one knows how such a scene feeds the fancy and how imagination will run riot, while sitting alone late at night, with the wind moaning outside, while he watches the curious, grotesque, and endless procession of figures which take shape and action before him. No one but Deerfoot himself could tell what thoughts took shape in his brain, but they must have been of a melancholy, serious nature, for he drew a deep sigh, muttered a few words in prayer, and then deliberately lay down in the middle of the floor. He lay on his side, with his arm doubled under his head for a pillow, but had nothing but the hard planking beneath and nothing except his own clothing above.
Deerfoot required little sleep, and within less than two hours after he had lain down, he opened his eyes and assumed the sitting position. The fire had burned so low that only a slight glow filled a part of the room, and he looked like some odd shadow, when he stepped silently forward and stirred the embers until they once more lit up the apartment. It was not yet morning, but he had concluded to wait no longer. He therefore picked up his bow and then, without making the least noise, opened and closed the door behind him.
The young Shawanoe stood for a moment when he found himself in the clear air on the outside. It was a bright starlit night, and, when he glanced reverently upward at the thousands of blazing orbs, he saw that it still lacked two hours of daylight. The rude cabins were dimly outlined, as they faced each other in two irregular rows, those only which were the furthest away being invisible. All were dark and silent excepting one. He noticed the gleam of light from the window, and thought it likely that some one was watching by the bed of sickness; but the thought had hardly come to him when he recalled that it was the cabin of the German Relstaub, who had left him in such a rage.
Deerfoot was still in front of the house of his friend, when the door of the cabin opened and the short, sturdy figure of Jacob Relstaub was outlined against the blazing fire and candle-light behind him. The truth was, he was so angered he could not sleep; he had tossed about until his rage became ungovernable, when he told his frau that he was going over to the widow Carleton's to chastise the rascally redskin that had dared to insult him to his face. The wife sought to dissuade him, but he was too angered to listen to reason; and, ordering her to stay in bed, he dressed, caught up his heavy cane, and plunged from the door of his home.
Deerfoot drew back until sure he could not be seen, when he calmly awaited the approach of the irate man. The latter stamped forward, banging his heavy cane on the ground and muttering to himself:
"Yaw, I preaks mine cane his head ofer—he talks to me—he calls me a rascal und eferydings vot I vas. I shows him——"
Just then, when he was close to the cabin, a figure emerged from the darkness, moving as silently as if it was a section of the gloom itself, and advancing straight toward him. It was the execrated young Indian, grasping his long bow in his right hand, and holding his tomahawk in his left, with his body bent and his head thrust forward.
"Oh, mine gracious!" gasped Jacob Relstaub, his knees shaking and his staff dropping from his trembling hand, "it ish him!"
He managed to twist his body around, so as to face the other way, and then he broke into a lumbering run for his cabin. He heard the sound of the swift moccasins behind him, and he ran as never before. His hat flew off, and odd quirps and pains developed themselves here and there in his frame, because of the unusual and violent exercise to which he subjected himself; but he kept forward, believing it was his only hope. Fortunately the run was brief, but when he reached the threshold he was in the last stage of exhaustion. He could not lift his foot high enough, and went sprawling headlong into the room, with a crash that startled his wife almost out of her senses.
Deerfoot paused a moment surveying the wreck and ruin he had caused, and then quietly shoved his tomahawk back in place. He had accomplished all he wished, and was satisfied. His old shadowy smile lingered on his face as he turned aside, and, making his way between the settlers' cabins, disappeared in the woods.
Jack Carleton cried in the bitterness of vexation and disappointment. After his daring attempt to get away, and when hope was a-flutter within him, he awoke to the fact that his captors were trifling with him. He surveyed the array of gleaming visages, and was sure that the leader indulged in a distinct wink and grotesque grimace, as expressive of his views of the situation. Inasmuch as not one of the red men could utter a syllable of English, perhaps it was as well that they should have recourse to the sign language. Jack himself was humiliated beyond expression. Finding he was discovered, he had risen to his feet and faced his captors with the best grace he could, and that, it need not be said, was scant indeed.
The Indians grinned and grimaced while they walked around the lad, as if desirous of surveying him from different points. Jack dashed the tears from his eyes, and, compressing his lips, braved it out. He expected some indignity would be offered him, but there was none. This curious scene lasted only a few minutes, when the Indians gave the youth to understand that the journey westward was to be resumed. He was motioned to go forward, and was glad enough to obey, for his saturated clothes and his highly nervous condition set his teeth chattering and his body shaking as if with the ague.
The afternoon was well along, and no great distance could be passed over before night. Jack dreaded their arrival at the Indian village before another halt. He was hopeful that in the stillness and darkness of night he would gain a chance to steal away from his captors, while the chance of doing so when with the tribe itself would be much more difficult.
In one respect the wish of the youth was gratified. The party tramped along in Indian file, without the slightest pause, until the darkness began stealing among the trees. There was but the single warrior in front, the others following the lad. Suddenly the leader stooped down and paused. He was so close to Jack that evidently he meant to fling him over his shoulders, and the boy barely escaped such discomfiture. The others grinned again, and then the party appeared to fall apart and take different positions. Two vanished in the wood, while the others began hastily gathering dead limbs and decayed leaves. It seemed to Jack that less than three minutes had gone by when he saw the dim outlines of one of the warriors on his knees, striking the flint and steel, such as the pioneers, and, indeed, all persons, used in those days. The little lines of sparks shot back and forth, as they do upon the swiftly revolving emery wheel when the metal is pressed against it, and in a twinkling a tiny blaze was creeping among the little pile of leaves toward the top. The twist of flame darted in and out like the crimson tongue of some serpent, until it reached the air above, and in a very few minutes a roaring camp fire was under full headway.
Jack saw that it had been kindled against the shaggy bark of an oak tree, which swept upward like a sealed chimney until lost in the gloom above. The gleam of water a short distance off made known what he had not suspected; a stream—only a few inches in depth and breadth—wound by the spot, without giving forth the slightest ripple. Water, it may be said, is indispensable to such an encampment, and a party of aborigines scarcely ever halts at night without being near it.
As the glow of the fire spread, it fell upon the figures of the warriors, who looked grim and uncanny. Jack folded his arms and stood in the full glow, as though seeking a bath in the firelight. But for his recent experience, he might have been tempted to make a dash for liberty; but his clothing was still wet from that furious essay, and he was clearly of the opinion that the only thing for him to do was to make his captors believe (if it was possible) that he had given over all hope of getting away. Could he lull their suspicion, it would be a most important point accomplished; but the youth might well feel misgivings on that point, for it presupposed a stupidity on the part of the Indians contrary to what he knew concerning them.
It must not be thought that the boy believed he could make the warriors think he was content to remain their prisoner; that would have been the height of absurdity; but he did seek to convince them by his manner that he had given up the intention of running away, because he knew the attempt must be hopeless. Having failed so completely, he was not foolish enough to repeat the essay, when he was likely to anger the Indians to that point that they would punish him for it.
It will be understood, therefore, why Jack Carleton remained standing with folded arms, while his captors were busying themselves around him. He looked at the flames as they crept up against the bark and scorched the rough coat of the massive oak, and he noted more than one furtive glance cast toward him. He pretended to see them not, but stood gloomy, sorrowful, and despairing.
Suddenly the dull crack of a rifle rang out, and Jack started. His first impression was that a party of white men or Indians had attacked them, but when he noticed the indifference of those around, he saw his mistake. They did not so much as look to the right or left, nor make any remark to each other. Evidently they expected something of the kind.
Within the space of five minutes, the two warriors who had left a short time before, reappeared. The foremost carried his rifle at a trail and had no game, but his companion, directly behind him, held by the feet a large wild gobbler, shot but a short time previous.
Jack Carleton could not but wonder how it was this dusky hunter was able to secure the bird on such short notice. The turkeys, at the time he started to look for them, must have all gone to roost among the trees. The gloom was such that it was almost impossible for the keenest eye to distinguish them. They may have given some evidence of their presence, but Jack was surprised over the success of the red men in obtaining supper before, as may be said, the fire could be made ready to roast it.
"Otto and I have hunted for hours in Kentucky where the game is as abundant as it is here, and we were not able to gain the first shot at any sort of game. There must be some secret about this performance which I don't understand, though Deerfoot, with his bow and arrow, never failed to meet with the same success."
The American Indian is by no means fastidious in his tastes, and the manner in which they handled the game would hardly have satisfied a party of modern hunters. Sometimes the red man half cooks his bird without bothering himself with plucking out the feathers, and again he doesn't take the trouble even to scorch his food. In the present instance, they ripped off the principal part of the feathers, removed the interior, and cutting the framework into several sections, laid them directly on the coals that were spread out to receive them.
They began the broiling or scorching operation at once, and the smell of the burning meat was of the most appetizing nature. Jack caught a sniff and it literally made his "mouth water," for despite his unpleasant situation, his appetite was such as every person in vigorous health is certain to feel at regular intervals.
"I wonder whether they mean to slight me," he suddenly asked himself with a feeling of dismay; "if they do, I don't know what will become of me, for I'm sure I never was so a-hungered in all my life."
But I hasten to say that the disaster which the prisoner feared did not come to him. Although the bird was unusually large, two or three of the warriors could have devoured it with ease. As it was, therefore, it afforded rather scant rations to the company, but Jack Carleton was remembered and received a juicy slice of the game, which could not have tasted better had it been hung up in the cold for a week and then cooked by his mother. Ah, what art shall ever furnish a sauce like that of hunger itself! The meal finished, the party disposed of themselves for the night. Their red clay pipes, with the long reeds for stems, were produced, filled with tobacco and lit from the fire in front of them. The blankets—which were anything but clean—were spread out on the ground and their owners assumed all sorts of lazy attitudes, puffed their pipes, and occasionally grunted a few words to each other.
As Jack had no blanket of his own he reclined on the leaves, which were comfortable as he could wish. He took pains to place himself as near the camp fire as he could bear, so as to show his captors he did not mean to attempt to get away.
Several times during the march and while at supper, Jack heard the leader addressed, as he believed, by name. He could not catch the precise word, but it sounded, as nearly as he could tell, like "Ogallah," which of itself resembles the name of a tribe of western Indians.
Jack waited till he had heard it again, and then, from the manner in which it was spoken, he was convinced it was the real name of the leader of the party,—that is as near as he could pronounce it.
By and by there came a lull in the disjointed conversation; the indolent red men were lolling on their blankets, and the leader was sitting cross-legged like a Turk, sending rings of smoke upward and watching them as they curled inward upon themselves and climbed out of sight. The dimensions of his mouth were that ample that he could have done the same on either side of the stem without removing it from between his teeth.
Jack Carleton looked straight at him for a few seconds, and then, imitating the guttural style of those around as best he could, pronounced in a distinct voice the single word—
"Ogallah!"
At that moment the chin of the chief was in the air and a procession of rings were tumbling over each other as they hastened from between his lips. He dropped his head as abruptly as if some one had struck him in the throat, and with his mouth still in circular shape allowed the rings to go to ruin, while he stared in amazement at the boy who had pronounced his name. The others showed as much wonder as did the chieftain. They also stared at the lad and then gave expressions to their feelings in their guttural, grunting fashion.
It was quite embarrassing to Jack Carleton, who blushed, looked confused, and then tried hard to appear as though he did not feel specially proud over his performance. The leader addressed some words to him, as if suspecting he understood his language after all, but Jack could only smile and shake his head to signify that he had already exhibited his full proficiency in the tongue of his captors.
It would be hard to measure the effect of the little achievement of Jack Carleton upon the Indians who held him captive. He had pronounced the name of the chieftain with such clearness that every one recognized it. After all it was no great exploit, and it may have been the red men feigned a goodly portion of the astonishment they seemed to feel.
Jack did not make any more essays in that direction, and a few minutes later the vagabonds gave their principal attention to their pipes. One of them gathered an armful of brush and flung it on the fire; and another, rising to his feet, turned his back toward the blaze with his hands together behind him, as though the warmth was very pleasant. While he stood thus, he held the stem of his pipe in his mouth and looked absently at the boy, who could not see the face of the red man with much distinctness, as it was in shadow.
The fuel just thrown on the flames increased the warmth to such a degree that those who were the nearest shifted their position. The warrior who was on his feet stepped forward a single pace, and was still standing in his idle fashion with his hands half folded behind him, when a spark flew outward with a snap, and dropped down the neck of the unsuspicious red man. When he felt the burn, like the thrust of a big needle, he sprang several feet in the air, and began frantically clutching at the tormenting substance. The second or third attempt secured the spark, which clung to his hand, burning his fingers to that extent that he emitted a rasping exclamation, bounded upward, and by a particularly vigorous flirt of his hand freed it of the spark, which then expired of itself.
As I have said, no man has less humor in his composition than the North American Indian, and yet it is not by any means lacking in him. It assumes odd forms at times, and too often seems based on the physical suffering of some person or animal; but in the instance of which I am speaking, every one of the spectators was filled with mirth. The laughter shook them from head to foot, though with all its vigor it could not have been heard fifty feet away.
Jack Carleton had been so long depressed that something like a reaction came over him. He threw his head back and the woods rang with his hearty mirth as they never rang before. If there was any one else within half a mile, he must have wondered what all the uproar meant.
The cause of this amusement conducted himself very much like a civilized being. When he had rubbed the blistered spot on the back of his neck with the scorched hand, he glared angrily at the others, as if he saw no adequate cause for the unusual mirth; then when it broke out afresh, he made a weak attempt to join in, but failing to do so, he sullenly seated himself on the ground and looked as glum as a man meditating some wicked deed.
All at once, he turned toward Jack Carleton with such a fierce scowl that the boy was sobered. He believed with reason that the Indian was ready to leap upon him with his knife, punishing him in that dreadful manner for the provocation he felt toward the rest.
"I guess I have laughed enough," was the prudent thought of the boy, who straightway tried to look as if he sympathized with the red man for his slight misfortune.
Jack could not tell how well he succeeded in imparting a pitying expression to his countenance, but all disposition to laugh at the warrior's mishap had departed, and it is not improbable that the youth owed his life to the fact.
Although the overflowing mirth soon ended, there were a number of smiles on the faces of the warriors for a long time afterward, doubtless caused by the remembrance of the laughable performance earlier in the evening.
As the halt was for the night, the boy could hardly suppress his curiosity to see what shape matters would take. His strong hope was that he would be allowed to lie where he then sat, and that none of the warriors would arrange it so he could not change his position without awaking him.
It looked as if the prayer of Jack was to be granted. More wood was thrown on the fire, and the Indians took but a brief time to dispose themselves for slumber. The pipes were laid away, their guns examined, and each placed his weapon alongside of him, as though it was his intimate friend, from whose body he expected to obtain the warmth to keep him comfortable through the night. The savage who held Jack's gun was the only silent and reserved member of the party. The boy had heard him utter less than half a dozen words since the journey began. He was shorter and more squatty than the others, and his whole aim in life appeared to be a desire to please Ogallah, their chief. During the hilarity that reigned a short time before, he had grinned at his companion, but his mirth was less hearty than that of the rest.
The blankets were spread out on the leaves to their fullest extent, and then the warriors lay down, with their backs against each other and their moccasins pointing toward the fire. Then the covering was gathered up in front of each and flung over behind, where the folds interlapped, all that remained visible being a part of the black hair and the feathers in the crowns of the warriors, who seemed to find not the least difficulty in breathing with their heads swathed and bandaged up like a wounded limb.
Two couples were thus formed, who were separated by the space of six or eight feet, while a rod beyond burned the camp-fire against the shaggy trunk of the oak. The intervening area and some distance away was lighted by the flames which had eaten into the bark, until the solid wood beneath was charred and blackened by the heat. Ogallah, the chief, strode to a point midway between the fire and the couples, flung his blanket on the ground, and, pointing down to it, motioned to Jack Carleton to come forward and use it for his couch.
This was not the most agreeable order to receive, but it might have been much worse, and he obeyed with a readiness that looked genuine, though it could not have been entirely so. Jack nodded to the chief, as he took his seat and gathered the heavy folds around him, lay down on his right side, with his face toward the fire. Ogallah looked at the lad, whose knees almost touched his chin, and muttering to himself, walked back to the oak and sat with his back against it, his feet close to his body and his arms folded in front.
The chief was about one-fourth of the way around the oak from the camp-fire, so that the light revealed his entire left side, and his not very attractive profile, the whole being thrown against the blank darkness beyond, which shut the rest of his body from view. This proceeding indicated that Ogallah meant to act the part of sentinel while his warriors slept. He did not require the blanket, as would have been the case had he lain down to slumber, and he was magnanimous enough, therefore, to turn it over the captive, who would have been as well pleased never to touch it.
It cannot be supposed that the sachem and his warriors were in any fear of disturbance during the darkness, for they were in a country with which they were familiar, and they knew no dangerous enemies were within many miles of them. Had they met a party belonging to another tribe, more than likely the two, as a matter of principle, would have fallen upon each other like so many tigers; but none of their own race was hunting for them, and the white settlers were altogether out of the question. But the possibility of peril—remote though it might be—always hangs over the hunter, as indeed it does over us all, and the red men had no thought of trusting themselves to slumber without one of their number standing guard over the rest.
Sleep is so insidious in its approach that the sentry, as a usual thing, can only fight it off by incessant action. So long as he paces back and forth, his senses stay with him, but when he sits down a minute or so to rest, unconsciousness is sure to come. But Ogallah would not have assumed the easy position had he not felt sure of his self-control. It will be perceived that he had so placed himself that he had a perfect view of the camp, while he could see all that was possible of the surrounding gloom. If required, he could use the oak as a shield, and only a slight signal was needed on his part to rouse the sleeping warriors to instant wakefulness.
"Now, if he keeps awake," thought Jack Carleton, peeping through the folds of his blanket with his half-closed eyes, "it don't look as though there will be much chance for me, but if he drops into a doze I may slip off, and I won't need much of a start to get away from him."
The most natural query would be as to which was more likely to fall asleep—the Indian or the boy. Ordinarily a youngster like Jack would have been no match for the warrior, who had been trained to privation, suffering, hardship, self-denial and watchfulness from his earliest infancy; but it need not be said that the state of one's mind has everything to do with his ability to slumber and secure rest therefrom. Ogallah was mentally quiet; he had gone through a severe tramp, but no more so than had been the case hundreds of times, and he was accustomed to sleep at that hour. Such was the case also with Jack Carleton, but he was in a fever of hope and nervousness, which made it hard for him to hold his eyes partly closed in his effort to counterfeit unconsciousness. It was accepted as a matter of course that the four warriors who were lying down would speedily glide into the land of dreams, since such was their wish. Slight as is the noise which is sufficient to rouse a sleeping Indian, young Carleton would have felt no misgiving respecting those so near him; it was Ogallah, the sentinel chieftain, whom he feared.
"If he suspects that I mean to try something of the kind," was the conclusion of Jack, "he will not close his eyes any longer than to wink. But I'll watch him."
This task which the boy set himself was of the most trying nature. Had his mind been composed he would have fallen asleep within five minutes, but he was never more wide awake in all his life than he was two hours after he had lain down with the Indian blanket wrapped about him, and his face toward the camp-fire.
During that period, so far as he was able to see, the Indian had not moved so much as a muscle, and Jack himself had done very little more. Lying on his right side, with his arm doubled under him for a pillow, the cumbrous blanket enclosing him from head to foot, an irregular opening in front of his face allowed him to peer through the folds at the camp-fire, the oak, and the chieftain. The last still sat leaning slightly backward, with his shoulders against the trunk, his arms folded over his knees, while he seemed to be gazing off into vacancy. The heels of his moccasins remained close against the thighs, so that the form of the Indian bore quite a resemblance to the letter N.
The flickering light from the camp-fire disclosed as it did at first, the side and profile of the chieftain. Gradually the flames sank lower and there came moments when the sentinel was scarcely visible. Then, all at once, the fire would flare up for a few seconds and the figure would be in brighter relief than before. Again the eyes of Jack would rebel against the extreme tension to which they were subjected. The Indian, instead of remaining with his back against the oak, would seem to be hitching forward and upward in the most grotesque fashion. After bumping about in the air for a time, he would sink, still bumping, to the ground, where he would hitch backward to his place by the tree. Then the latter, instead of standing as motionless as a rock, showed signs of restlessness. It would begin by swaying back and forth until it too was waltzing in an unearthly fashion around the camp-fire. Again the surrounding gloom became studded with blinking stars, ogres and the most grotesque figures, which performed in an indescribable fashion. Darkness and light alternated, until the boy feared he was losing the power of vision altogether; but it will be understood that this was the natural protest of the eye against the painful and long continued strain to which it was subjected.
Jack Carleton occasionally gave his eyes fitful rest by holding them closed for a few moments, but the tantalizing visions did not leave him even then. His arm became so painfully cramped under his head that he was compelled to shift his position; and he seized the occasion to readjust his limbs, which were also becoming wearied because of the long time he had held them motionless. He was prudent enough, however, to give the whole movement the seeming of a natural action done in sleep. He flung himself about for a few seconds, and then rolled back almost in the same posture, apparently resuming his heavy slumber.
But through the half closed eyelids, on which the dull glow of the camp-fire fell, he was peering at the faint outlines of the figure against the oak. He was sure Ogallah would start and rise to his feet, ready to check any steps on the part of the captive looking toward flight.
But not the slightest stir was made, and the astonished lad, with a painful throb of his heart, said to himself:
"He is asleep! Now is my chance!"
It seemed to be too good to be true, and yet it certainly had that appearance. For some time past, Jack had known from the regular breathing of the figures near him that the couples wrapped up in their blankets were unconscious. Certainly there could be no doubt about the one who had been burned by the spark of fire, for he snored amain, like the "seven sleepers."
It is at such times that one's senses are wonderfully acute, and Jack Carleton not only saw but heard with unusual keenness. With his ear close to, but not touching the ground, he distinctly caught a rippling sound in the streamlet which flowed so near. The fact that he heard it was proof that it was caused by some "foreign interference," since it was entirely different from the slight rippling noise along the banks.
The first thought of Jack was that it was Deerfoot come to his rescue, and he could not but think how completely he would be master of the situation, should he suddenly rise to his feet in front of Ogallah and give him to understand he was not to move or speak; but a second thought destroyed the hope. It was exceedingly improbable that the young Shawanoe was within a score of miles, but while it was possible that he might be hunting somewhere in the forest, it was incredible that he would have betrayed his presence near camp in the manner named.
Jack had barely reached this correct conclusion, when, peering at the figure of Ogallah, as it was faintly shown, he caught the gleam of the eyes of a wild beast just beyond, and in a direct line with the chief. The eyes were large, round and quite close together, with that phosphorescent, flickering glow often shown by animals when the light is faint.
"Thatwill settle the question whether Ogallah is asleep or not," said the boy, watching with an intensity of interest which cannot be described.
Whatever the nature of the animal, he was evidently on a reconnaissance, and had no purpose of venturing closer until satisfied the path was clear to do so. It must have been that he cared very little one way or the other, for while the two orbs were glaring upon Jack, they vanished with a suddenness that suggested that some one had seized his tail and flung him back into the gloom from which he first emerged.
It was incredible, too, that the chief should have sat quiet and motionless with a wild beast so near him, unless he was asleep, but the possibility of being mistaken after all, kept Jack from stirring for fully a half hour longer.
The time seemed much later than it really was, when the boy rose on his elbow and hesitated, while he looked intently around and listened for the slightest sound. He glanced right and left at the figures shrouded in the blankets, but they might have been so many dead men. He could barely discern their outlines in the gloom, for the fire was slowly, but steadily, sinking. Several times he had asked himself whether it would not be wise to wait until it died out altogether, but he was too strongly convinced that the night was nearly gone, and he would need every minute in which to widen the distance between him and his pursuers.
"No," he murmured, "it won't do to wait another second."
He was on one knee, with his hand pressing the ground, when the largest stick on the fire burned in two in the middle, and the larger portion rolled back and in front of the chief. The disturbance caused it to flare up for the moment with a glare which revealed the figure of Ogallah more distinctly than at any time since he had taken his position.
Jack Carleton paused in his painful movement and became like a figure cut in marble, staring straight at the warrior brought into such unexpected prominence. As he did so, he saw that Ogallah was not only wide awake, but had turned his head, and was looking straight at him. The cunning fellow had not slept a wink from the moment he took his singular position. He had noted the wolf which ventured close enough to take a peep into camp, but, well aware that there was no danger, and convinced also that his captive was awaiting the chance to steal away, he held himself as rigid as iron until such an attempt should be made.
Poor Jack almost fainted in a collapse of despair. He saw that his captors had trifled with him from the beginning, and with a sigh of utter wretchedness, he dropped back on the ground, feeling that it was worse than useless for him to expect or hope to outwit those cunning children of the forest.
Reaction followed, and the lad speedily sank into a deep slumber which lasted until the sun had risen and the party had broken camp and were ready to resume their journey. Even then it was necessary for Ogallah to thrust his moccasin against him before he opened his eyes and stared confusedly around. The sight of the warriors who stood ready to move, recalled Jack to his hapless situation. He rubbed his eyes, and sprang to his feet, and walking to the streamlet lay down, took a draught of the cool, refreshing water in which he bathed his face, wiping it off with his handkerchief, and then turned about to signify that he awaited orders.
He wondered that no signs of breakfast were to be seen, and at first suspected that his captors had partaken while he slept, but afterward concluded that like all their people they were anything but regular in their meals, especially when on the tramp.
Without any ceremony, the journey was taken up, Ogallah again walking at the head, with the other four at the rear of the boy. They adopted their favorite custom of walking in Indian file, each warrior stepping in the tracks of the one in front. Jack was wise enough to adhere to the practice, so that had any one sought to follow the party, he would have noted but the single trail, though a skilled red or white man would have been quick to discover the precise number of the company.
"We have traveled a good many miles since yesterday noon," thought Jack, "and it must be that we are not far from the Indian village. If that is so, it won't do for me to make any other attempt to run away. Ogallah knows I am anxious to go, for he saw me try it twice, and he will take good care that I don't try it again."
Still, while taking this sensible view of the matter, Jack Carleton compressed his lips with the resolution that he would not throw away a single chance. If it should prove that many miles still lay before them and that several nights were to be spent on the road, he meant to do his utmost to give his captors the slip.
The journey assumed the most monotonous character. It was simply tramp, tramp, without the least rest or variation. Jack was sure he had never seen such sameness in the forest, lasting mile after mile. There were the towering trees, their leafy branches interlocked overhead, the same array of shaggy columns of bark, spreading limbs and sparse undergrowth. Sometimes Ogallah would step so rapidly that a branch which he brushed from his path would swing back and switch the lad in the face, and once or twice a running vine would be uprooted by a vigorous fling or kick of the foot.
But all this time the squat figure of the chief advanced like a machine. Jack noticed the swing of the muscular arms, the play of the legs and the occasional slight turning or ducking of the head. The straggling black hair, with the painted eagle feathers drooping like the plume of a lady's hat, the blanket slung loosely over the shoulders, the fringed hunting shirt and leggings, the faded moccasins, so soft that they spread out of all manner of shape when the weight of the body rested on them:—all these and much more were impressed upon the mind of the boy with a distinctness that he was certain would last him all through life.
"My gracious!" thought he, "they have come from a long distance; what could have taken them down near Martinsville and so near the Mississippi? I wonder whether it is possible the tribes who live on this side the river ever cross over to look at the country on the other shore. It would not be strange if they did so, but it don't seem like an Indian to do that sort of thing. Can it be these warriors have their hunting grounds away out toward the Rocky Mountains? If so, I shall have a fine time in finding my way back home."
The youth did not allow himself to consider the possibility that he would never have the chance to attempt the journey. The shuddering fear which first took hold of him was gone. Closely as the captors guarded him, he was persuaded they meant to inflict no personal harm—at least while on their way through the woods.
It was a serious question indeed as to what would be his treatment after reaching the Indian settlement. The American race is cruel, treacherous, and revengeful, and though the red men frequently hold prisoners for months and years, they more frequently subject them to torture and death. It will be understood, therefore, why Jack Carleton was so anxious to make his escape from the party before they could arrive home.
Present discomforts often drive away future horrors, and, by the time the sun was overhead, Jack gave his principal thought to one thing—the question of food. He was a-hungered, and viewed with a mental groan the prospect of keeping on the march until sunset, before securing anything to eat.
"I have gone a full day many a time without food," he said, as he tramped along, "but it seems to me I never was as ravenous as now. I believe I could eat a pair of boiled moccasins, that is, if they had never been in use."
He was ashamed of his weakness, and resolutely refrained from giving any evidence of his suffering, but when he detected the pale green foliage of the fragrant birch, he ventured to step out of the trail, break off a branch and chew the bark, thus securing temporary relief from the gnawing discomfort.
High noon came, but no halt had been made. The lad had left the trail several times, and the warriors themselves were more careless about their own footsteps, but seemed to have no desire to partake of food.