If Hay-uta was subject to the will of Deerfoot a minute before, it will be seen that now he was helpless. He had been again disarmed, while the lithe youth still grasped his own weapon with the power to drive it home whenever he so willed.
The last act of Deerfoot accomplished its purpose. Hay-uta at first was self-confident; again, he was hopeful; but the latter time he was disarmed, his confidence vanished. He saw that much as he had despised the youth whose life he sought, he was his inferior in every respect. He was no match for him in a fight, nor could he approach him in his peerless woodcraft. The question of supremacy was settled forever.
Slowly recoiling a couple of steps, he folded his arms, and, with a dignity that was touching, said, in a slow, deliberate voice, with his softened gaze fixed on the countenance of his conqueror:
"Hay-uta is a dog whose teeth have fallen out; he can fight no more; he is ashamed to go back to his people; the son of a pale face who is there, when he learns the truth, will point his finger at him and laugh; Hay-uta cannot go to his lodge; let Deerfoot bury his knife in his heart!"
"Deerfoot seeks not the life of Hay-uta; had he wished it, he could have had it long ago; but Deerfoot is a Christian; he will do Hay-uta no harm."
If Hay-uta the Sauk had been astonished by the action of his youthful conqueror, he was now more astonished by his words; but the former in a measure prepared him for the latter, and he saw why it was the remarkable warrior had refused to take his life when the opportunity had been his, and when too he knew that he whom he was fighting would show him no mercy.
Hay-uta, like many of his people, had listened to the words of the missionaries—those strange people who underwent hunger, thirst, and suffering that they might preach the Word of Life to those who had never heard of that wonderful Being that died to save a lost world, and who taught that forgiveness, kindness, and love were the duty of every one. Hay-uta, I say, had listened to the words of those people, but only to turn away with a scornful smile, for he was sure the creed was one to which the American Indian could never give his faith.
The red man remembered that those priests and missionaries called themselves Christians, and lo! the most skillful warrior upon whom he had ever looked, now stood before him and declared that he too was a Christian. Not only that, but he proved it by his works, for he refused to tear the reeking scalp from the head of his enemy, when that enemy was vanquished!
Once more Deerfoot picked the knife of Hay-uta from the ground and handed it (the point toward himself) to the Sauk. The latter accepted it and pushed it back in place behind the girdle that spanned his waist. Then at a signal from Deerfoot he recovered his rifle and tomahawk, as Deerfoot did his hatchet and bow and quiver. Without a word, the two walked the short distance to camp, Hay-uta slightly in the lead.
The camp was of the simplest character, consisting of a pile of sticks, leaves, and branches which served as a couch, beside furnishing fuel for the fire when he cooked his food. A long, heavy blanket was partly folded and lying on the heap of branches, where it had served as a pillow for the warrior, who was different from most of his people in using that artificial help to slumber.
The water, which is such a necessity for parties halting in the wilderness, was obtained from a tiny stream that trickled down the rocks just beyond, after which it sank out of sight in the mountain to reappear at some point far removed. The wood and undergrowth that surrounded the camp of the Sauk were very close and dense, so that the view in every direction was shut off, unless one should climb the tallest tree and take his survey from that perch.
When Hay-uta halted in front of his camp-fire he turned about and extended his hand to Deerfoot.
"Will Deerfoot tell Hay-uta about the Great Spirit of the white man?"
"He is the Great Spirit of the red man as well as of the white," replied the Shawanoe, seating himself on the ground, where he was opposite the Sauk, who slowly resumed his seat on the pile of sticks and branches. "He loves all his children—him with the face of the night, the Miami, the Huron, the Shawanoe, the Delaware, the Sauk and Fox, the white man, and all those who live far beyond the great water which rolls against the shores of our land. He loves them all, and He hides his face with grief when he sees them quarrel and try to kill each other. If His children will do as He tells them to do, they will be happy in this world and in the hunting grounds where they shall live forever."
Hay-uta remembered that this agreed with what he had heard the missionaries say, but he recalled also that there was something more.
"Where does the Great Spirit that Deerfoot tells me about live?"
The Shawanoe pointed reverently upward.
"Far beyond the clouds, the sun, and the stars; He lives there, and there all shall go who do His will. A long time ago, before the white men came across the great water, He sent His Son from Heaven to earth; the Son went about doing good, and died, to save those He loved from sorrow and death."
"Deerfoot tells me what the Great Spirit says to him; how does he hear the Great Spirit speak?"
Without changing his half-reclining posture, the Shawanoe drew forth his small Bible from the inner pocket of his hunting shirt, the other watching with amazement the action. Opening the sacred volume, he read in his low, musical voice:
"'Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth.
"'Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God.
"'Blessed are the peace-makers: for they shall be called the children of God.
"'Ye have heard that it has been said, thou shalt love thy neighbor, and hate thine enemy:
"'But I say unto you, love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you.'"
Deerfoot read these extracts from the Sermon on the Mount, with which he was so familiar that he could have repeated it all without looking at the printed page. Then raising his eyes to the wondering face of Hay-uta, he added:
"Let my brother listen, for these are the words of the Great Spirit, which he speaks to all his children; if they will obey, there shall be no unhappiness in the world:
"'Therefore all things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them: for this is the law and the prophets.'"
The Sauk warrior was never so stirred in all his life. He had seen white men read from books, and he held a misty idea of how it was done, but he never knew one of his own race who could interpret the meaning of the curious figures made by some incomprehensible means on paper.
It was impossible that he should grasp the height and depth of that sublime utterance, which is of itself the very essence of the Christian religion; but they were as clear as sunlight to Deerfoot, who had pondered them many a time since he sat at the feet of good Mrs. Preston, who presented him with the Word of Life.
Closing the Book and putting it away, he proceeded to preach his sermon to the Sauk warrior. Deerfoot assumed the sitting position, and used both hands in his frequent gestures. Hay-uta reclined on his side, supporting himself on one elbow, while he fixed his eyes on his teacher and drank in every word.
"The Great Spirit made all people—the white, the red, the black man, and him whose face is the color of the breast of Deerfoot's hunting shirtfor there are men whose skins are yellow, and others who are brown. He wishes them to live like brothers, but they do not. More of the pale faces are evil than good; they use the red men ill, and the red man loves to fight his enemies, but they grieve the Great Spirit. Let Hay-uta pray to the Great Spirit; let him never lie down or rise without talking to Him; let him stay his hand when it would strike a blow in anger; let him forgive his foes; let him seek to do the will of the Great Spirit, and a sweet peace shall fill his heart, such as he never knew before. Let my brother do that; let him tell the good news to his friends; let him listen to the words of the missionaries and talk to his people.
"The father of Deerfoot was a chief of the Shawanoes, who loved to fight; Deerfoot when a child was a wildcat in his hate of his enemies and of the pale faces; but the Great Spirit whispered in his ear, and he became another being. It was the Great Spirit who told him just now that danger threatened him. Hay-uta knows that Deerfoot could have slain him had he wished to do so; but he never wished him ill; he first showed him he was his master, that Hay-uta might listen to his words; will my brother forget what Deerfoot has said to him?"
Every being, whether groping in the night of barbarism or walled in by the skepticism of an advanced civilization, has felt at one time or another, an irrestrainable longing to draw aside the veil which shuts out the great hereafter, and solve the mystery of the life that is to come. Many a time is the heart stirred to its uttermost depths by the chastening hand of affliction, or when gazing on the glories of the stars and firmament, or when listening to the meanings of the vast deep, the soft sighing of the winds in the forest, or the lisping prayer of infancy. No proof of the immortality of the soul can equal that of its very yearning for immortality, and dim, strange, half-heard whisperings of the Beyond become voices more convincing than all the scientific scoffing and brilliant ridicule of those whose learning carries them beyond the trusting faith of childhood, and stops just short of the grandeur of the light of perfect knowledge.
When Deerfoot addressed his question to the Sauk warrior, the latter did not answer, but continued gazing into his face as though he heard not the words, and his thoughts were far away. The Shawanoe was wise enough to suspect the truth, and refrained from repeating the question. He, too, held his peace, and for several minutes the strange scene lasted. The two Indians looked at each other without speaking.
Meanwhile the afternoon was drawing to a close, and darkness was creeping through the forest. The camp-fire had burned so low that it gave out no light, and the figures of the warriors began to grow indistinct.
Deerfoot felt that he had sowed the seed, and he had only to wait for it to bear fruit. He arose, and stepping closer to the fire, stirred it until it gave forth a flame which lit up the surrounding gloom. Still Hay-uta remained motionless and silent.
Perhaps it has not escaped the notice of the reader that when the Sauk stood with folded arms before his conqueror, and asked him to bury his knife in his heart, he said that the son of the pale face would point the finger of scorn at him. Deerfoot noticed the curious words, and he felt that the moment had come when he should learn their full meaning.
"Where is the village of my brother?" he asked in his gentle way.
The Sauk aroused himself and slowly rose to his feet. Glancing through the firelight at his questioner, he pointed to the west.
"Two suns' journey away is the home of Hay-uta. There are his squaw and pappoose. He left them two suns ago to hunt for the scalps of his enemies; but he will hunt no more; he will go home, and on his way will think of the words that Deerfoot has said to him."
"It is well he should do so; but my brother spoke of the son of the pale face. Why is he in the village of the Sauks?"
"He was brought there in the last moon; the Sauks found two pale faces in the woods."
"Where is the other?"
"Some of the Sauks took him by another path; Hay-uta knows not where he is."
"Was harm done him?"
"Hay-uta cannot answer."
"Tell me of the pale face that is in the village of the Sauks with my brother."
The warrior, assisted by the questions of Deerfoot, who kept down the deep interest he felt, told all he knew. When he had finished, as the reader may well suspect, Deerfoot was sure he had gained most important knowledge. He was satisfied beyond all doubt that the prisoner in the village of the Sauks was Jack Carleton, whom he had set out to find, and for whom he feared he would have to hunt for many moons before learning whether he was alive or dead.
Suddenly the Sauk rose to his feet and stood in the attitude of listening, as though he had caught some signal. Deerfoot knew he was mistaken, for had it been otherwise, he too would have noticed it.
"Hay-uta bids his brother good bye," was the abrupt exclamation of the warrior, who caught up his blanket and, without another word, passed from sight in the wood, leaving the astonished Deerfoot alone.
From what has been told concerning Deerfoot, the reader knows that the tribe which held Jack Carleton prisoner were Sauks, or Sacs, as the name is often spelled. They belonged to the great Algonquin division, and, when first known to Europeans, inhabited the country near Detroit River and Saginaw Bay, but were driven beyond Lake Michigan by the powerful Iroquois. They themselves were of a restless and warlike nature and were the bitter enemies of the Sioux and Iroquois. They were the allies of the famous war-chief Pontiac who besieged Detroit so long, and, during the Revolution fought on the side of the English. They were closely associated with the Foxes, and frequently moved from one section of the country to another, in which respect they resembled the majority of American Indians.
The chief who has been referred to as Ogallah was one of the most fiery-tempered and quarrelsome members of the Sauk tribe. In one of the expeditions against the Sioux, he not only performed wonderful deeds of daring, but tomahawked several of his own warriors, because, in his judgment, they showed a timidity in attacking the common foe. One of the Sauks who fell by the hand of the wrathful sachem was the brother of the leading chief. This precipitated a fierce quarrel between the two, the upshot of which was that Ogallah, and a number of followers, drew off from the main tribe and began "keeping house" for themselves. Migrating southward with the purpose of placing a long stretch of country between them and the parent tribe, they finally erected their lodges on the banks of a stream on the Ozark region, in what is now Southern Missouri and upper Arkansas.
I have already said the Indians gave the white men little trouble in that section during the pioneer days. In that respect, no comparison can be made with Kentucky and Ohio. As early as 1720, the lead deposits in Missouri attracted notice, and its oldest town, Saint Genevieve, was founded in 1755. St. Louis became the depot for the fur trade of the vast region beyond, and at the breaking out of the Revolution, was a town of considerable importance.
The warrior Hay-uta with whom Deerfoot had his remarkable interview was a fair representative of the Sauk nation, and especially of that division which was under the following of Ogallah. Some of the warriors were constantly roaming through the wilderness in quest of scalps. While they were nothing loth to engage in a scrimmage with the hunters and trappers, yet they preferred those of their own race above all others. No Sioux or Iroquois could have approached within hundreds of miles without the certainty of an encounter with the warlike Sauks.
The Sauk party which appeared so close to the settlement of Martinsville had been out for several weeks looking for "game" in the form of Sioux, who lived far to the northward. They had found some of it too, and were returning home in a leisurely manner. They took a careful survey of the settlement, and even discussed the wisdom of making an attack on it; but they saw it could not be destroyed by so small a force, and though they might have shot several of the settlers before they could know their danger, they decided to pass on without making any demonstration at all.
When Jack Carleton and Otto Relstaub walked up to the party, it was no more than natural that they should be made prisoners. No particular reason can be assigned for the separation of the party, one division of which took Jack and the other Otto, except that a survey of the land passed over could be better made by that means. However, this point will be dwelt upon more fully in another place.
Probably no person ever played the part of captive among a tribe of savages without devoting most of his thoughts to the question of escape. It is inevitable that he should do so, for the fate is so painful in every respect that, but for the hope, one would be ready to lie down and die.
Jack had turned the question over and over in his mind, and had done his utmost to give his captors the slip while on the road, but misfortune attended every venture, and at last he found himself in the lodge of the chieftain Ogallah himself, where it looked as if he was likely to remain indefinitely.
"Well, this beats everything," he exclaimed, after finishing the meal and seating himself at the side of the lodge, so as to be out of the way of the housewife, as she moved back and forth and here and there while attending to her duties; "I've come a long distance through the woods, and it'll take some time to find my way back to Martinsville, after I once make a start."
He could not persuade himself that his captivity might last for months and possibly for years. He was confident that no matter how vigilant the watch maintained, he would gain a chance to give the Indians the slip within two or three days at the furthest.
"I did my best to make Ogallah and the others think I wasn't anxious to leave, but the work was all thrown away. These people are not fools, and no matter how well I may act, they know of a surety that the whole prayer of my life is to part company with them."
The conclusion reached by Jack was common sense, though the story-writers sometimes make it appear that the keen minded American Indian may be duped in that transparent fashion. The utmost that Jack Carleton could hope to do was to show his captors that, while he longed to return to his friends, he saw no means of doing so, and therefore was not likely to make the attempt. Such he resolved would be his course.
The boy was fatigued in mind and body, and, when he bowed his head in prayer (much to the astonishment of Ogallah and his squaw), and lay down on the bison robe, he sank into a refreshing slumber, from which he did not awake until morning, and then, when he did so, he came to his senses with a yell that almost raised the roof.
The Sauks, like all their race, were extremely fond of dogs, and the mongrel curs seemed to be everywhere. Jack had noticed them trotting through the village, playing with the children and basking in the sun. A number sniffed at his heels, as he passed by with Ogallah, but did not offer to disturb him.
The chief was the owner of a mangy cur, which seemed to have been off on some private business of his own, when his master returned, inasmuch as he did not put in an appearance until early the following morning, when he trotted sideways up to the lodge and entered, as he could readily do, inasmuch as the "latch string was always out." The canine was quick to notice the stranger lying on the bison skin with his eyes closed and his mouth open. With an angry growl he trotted in the same sidelong fashion across the space, and pushing his nose under Jack's legs gave him a smart bite, just below the knee, as though he meant to devour him, and concluded that was the best part of his anatomy on which to make a beginning.
The foregoing will explain why Jack Carleton awoke with a yell and stared around him for an explanation of the insult. The vigor of his kicks, and the resonant nature of his cries, filled the dog with a panic, and he skurried out of the lodge with his tail between his legs, and cast affrighted glances behind him.
"Confound the cur," muttered Jack, rubbing the injured limb, "is that the style of these dogs when a stranger calls?"
Ogallah was entering the door of his home just as the canine was going out. Suspecting what mischief he had been committing, he placed his moccasin under the brute and elevated him several feet in the air, with a force which caused him to turn end over end, with an accompaniment of yelps and howls which were kept up until he was out of sight and hearing.
The wife of Ogallah was preparing breakfast, which was of the simplest character, consisting of nothing but meat cooked over the coals as on the evening before. There was nothing in the nature of vegetables, though something of the kind was growing on the cleared land without.
Jack longed for the pure, fresh air of the outside. The smoke of the chieftain's pipe, the smell of burning meat, and the untidiness of the place and people, left a stale odor, which was nauseating to one unaccustomed to it.
He wanted a drink of cold water as it bubbled from the earth, and, rising to his feet, passed outdoors. The squaw merely glanced up, while Ogallah addressed several rapidly spoken words to him. Then recollecting that nothing he said could be understood, he smiled grimly, and turned his back on the lad.
Reaching the outside, Jack stood still for a minute, uncertain what course to take. The warriors, squaws, and children were astir; but no one seemed to observe him when he paused in front of the chieftain's lodge.
"I'll try the river," was his conclusion, as he stepped briskly off, his heart beating rapidly, for he knew from his experience of the previous night, that much curiosity respecting him was felt, and he was certain to attract annoying attention. But he reached the stream, where he stooped and bathed his face and hands, wiping them on the handkerchief he carried, and still heard and saw nothing to cause misgiving.
"I wonder whether they drink from this," he said, rising to his feet, and looking around; "I can't say that I fancy it, for it isn't as clear as it looked to be when I was further off; then the youngsters bathe and play in it—helloa!"
He saw an Indian woman making her way toward one of the wigwams on the edge of the village, carrying a large gourd of water in her arms. It was filled almost to the brim, and slopped over the edge, as it was disturbed by her movement in walking. It was fair to conclude that she had taken it from the spring for which Jack was looking, and he immediately moved toward her. She stopped abruptly when she saw him approach, and stared in such open-mouthed amazement that it was evident that this was the first glance she had obtained of the captive.
Jack made signs of comity, and sheered off so as to reach the path considerably to the rear of the squaw, who, with a grunt, made an equally wide circuit in the opposite direction, so that the two avoided each other by a liberal space of ground.
The boy saw that he was moving over a well-worn path, which he was confident led to the spring he wished to find. Nearly every step was marked by the drippings of water from the gourd of the woman he had just met.
Sure enough, he had gone less than a hundred yards beyond the village when he came upon the spring, which bubbled from under the twisted black roots of an oak, throwing up the sand in a continual fountain-like tumble of melted silver. The lad looked down at it for a moment, and then sinking to his hands and knees, pressed his lips against the cold, crystal-fluid, the most refreshing element in all nature.
Had not his nose and eyes been so close to the water, Jack Carleton would have caught the reflection of another face just behind his own—a face which would have driven all thirst away and caused him to bound to his feet, as though he had heard the whirr of a coiled rattlesnake at his elbow.
But Jack saw and suspected nothing. He had taken three good swallows when some one gave the back of his head such a smart push, that the nose was shoved down among the silver sands, which streamed from his face, as he sprang to his feet, and stared gasping, blinking, and furious.
"Who the deuce did that?" he demanded, forgetting himself in his anger.
His own eyes answered the question. Three Indian boys were standing, laughing as if ready to hurt themselves over his discomfiture. Two of them were very nearly the height and age of Jack, while the third, who had played the trick on him, was older and taller.
The captive was angry enough to assail all three, and it required a smart exercise of the will to restrain himself. But he saw the folly of such a step. The affray would quickly bring others to the spot, and very speedily Jack would find himself attacked by overwhelming numbers, and possibly would be beaten to death. No; he must use ordinary prudence and swallow the insult.
He looked in the grinning faces of the homely youths, and made quite a successful effort to join their laughter (though precious little mirth was there in the essay), and then started back toward the lodge of Ogallah.
The youth tried to walk with a dignified step, but he was sadly thrown out by a dexterous trip from one of the moccasins, which sent him stumbling forward with a very narrow escape from falling on his hands and knees.
It was the tallest of the three who had tripped him, and all laughed like a lot of clowns, as the angered Jack glared at them.
"I wish I had you alone," muttered the boy between his set teeth; "I wouldn't need more than five minutes to give you a lesson you'd remember all your life."
Jack Carleton saw that he was caught in an exceedingly unpleasant dilemma. He had a considerable distance to walk to reach the lodge of Ogallah and was sure to be tormented all the way. He could not feel certain even, that the wigwam of the chieftain would afford him protection, while nothing could be more manifest than that this was but the beginning of a series of numberless persecutions to which he would be subjected.
He was allowed to take six or eight steps in peace, when one of the Indian boys slipped up behind and with his foot struck his heel, just as it left the ground. This threw the toe behind Jack's other leg and caused him to stumble again, though, as he was expecting something of the kind, he recovered himself with more ease.
A few seconds later, Jack was passing among the different lodges, and walking rapidly toward that of the chieftain. His presence became known to the whole village in a very brief time, and the younger portion came flocking around him, as though he was some wonderful curiosity, which, under the circumstances, was the fact.
Ogallah was among those who came to the front of the lodges to learn what caused the uproar. When he caught sight of Jack, he called out something and made excited gestures to him. The boy supposed they were intended to hurry his return, and finding his persecutors closing around him, he broke into a run.
Then the stones and clods began to fly. The whole rabble joined in, and when the poor captive dodged into the wigwam, he was bruised and half frightened to death. He watched the entrance in terror, but his tormentors did not dare follow him into the home of their chief, who would have been quick to resent such an invasion of his dignity and rights.
Jack was panting and frightened, but he had received no serious hurts. What alarmed him, more than everything else, was the foreshadowing thus made of the treatment in store for him.
"I can't stand this," was his thought, after he had partly regained his composure. "I shall have to stay in here altogether or run the gauntlet every time I go out."
But all this time, Ogallah kept talking and making vigorous gestures to him. The chief had followed him to the middle of the lodge, where the two sat on the ground cross-legged and began eating the meat which the squaw had prepared. She did not join them, and the boy had little appetite after his exciting experience. The gestures of Ogallah continued so long that it was evident he was seeking to say something of importance to Jack.
"I wonder what the old fellow means," muttered the lad, ceasing his meal and studying the gyrating arms and spluttering countenance. The chieftain was striking the air as if fighting an imaginary foe, and then, pointing toward Jack he nodded his head vigorously and again pointed to the outside.
Suddenly the meaning of the pantomime broke upon the youth.
"By gracious! if he isn't urging me to sail into those fellows. I say, Ogallah, will you back me up and see that I have fair play?"
Jack raised his voice to a loud key, as though that would help the chieftain understand his words; but it could not be expected that he would grasp their meaning, as they were not punctuated with any gesture and accompanied only by an eager expression of countenance.
But Ogallah probably saw that the youth had caughthismeaning, for he nodded his head and grinned with delight.
"If he will only keep the crowd off me," said Jack to himself, "I won't ask anything better than a chance to get even with that big fellow and after him the other two, if they want to take a hand in the fun."
The voices and turmoil in front of the lodge showed that the crowd were there waiting for Jack to come forth, that they might continue the amusement which was interrupted by his flight. The lad spent a minute or two in conversing by means of gestures with the chief, whose meaning seemed plainer now that he had caught the gist of his first proposal.
"I am quite sure he promises to see that I have fair play," thought Jack; "but, if I am mistaken I shall get into a pretty scrape. Anything, however, is preferable to this state of affairs, and it must be ended one way or another very soon."
Ogallah showed a childish delight when he saw that the youth had made up his mind to have a bout with the ringleaders who had started out to make life a burden to him. Even the squaw partook of the general excitement and followed the two out doors.
The chieftain cleared the way for the captive, who was greeted with the most uproarious cries as soon as seen by the company, which numbered over a hundred bucks, squaws and children, exclusive of the dogs which added to the unearthly racket by their barking, yelping and howling.
Jack Carleton kept well under the wing of Ogallah until he could see what was to take place. The chief talked for a short time with several of his warriors, who closed around him, the rest holding him in such awe that they refrained from disturbing the prisoner until permission was given.
It was quickly settled: Ogallah and two of his men cleared a space a rod square and then beckoned to Jack, who walked defiantly to the middle of it and folded his arms.
"Something must be done pretty soon," was his thought, as he scanned the scowling, laughing, shouting mob. "They would like to tear me to pieces, and, if they come all at once, they will do it too."
The three Indian youths who had assailed Jack at the spring, leaped about and were as frantically eager as so many bull-dogs to fly at the poor fellow, who was never in sorer need of a powerful friend.
Suddenly one of them received the signal, and, with a whoop of delight, he lowered his head and ran at Jack like a Japanese wrestler or a mad bull. The boy saw he meant to butt him in the stomach, and if he did so he would suffer serious injury. Forewarned was forearmed in his case, and, leaping aside, he tripped the Indian as he shot by, and sent him sprawling on his hands and knees. The uproar was deafening, but the contest, it may be said, had only opened, and the young Sauk bounded to his feet as if made of India Rubber. His coppery face was aglow with passion, and, pausing but an instant, he made a second rush, though this time he kept his head up, and spread out his arms so as to prevent Jack escaping him.
Jack did not want to escape. He seized his assailant at the same moment that the latter grasped him, and in a twinkling they were interlocked and struggling like tigers. But the dusky youth was not only younger and slighter than Jack, but he was not so strong. Furthermore, his skill in wrestling was less than that of the white youth, who, like all the youths of the border, was trained in the rough, athletic exercise so popular with every people.
The contest was as brief as it was fierce. Suddenly a pair of moccasins kicked the air, and the presumptuous young Sauk went to the earth as if flung from the top of a church steeple. The shock was tremendous and caused a momentary hush, for it looked as if he had been killed.
The mother of the overthrown wrestler ran forward from the crowd, and with wild lamentations, bent over him. When she saw him move and found he was not dead, she whirled about, and, with a shriek, made for Jack Carleton, who dreaded just such an attack; but Ogallah seized her arm ere she reached the frightened youth, and flung her back with a violence and a threat which stopped her from repeating the attack.
This incident gave Jack great encouragement, for it confirmed his belief that the sachem meant he should have fair treatment, and would allow no dishonest advantage to be taken of him.
The second dusky youth, who was slighter than Jack, was signalled to advance to the attack, but to the surprise of all, he shook his head in dissent and declined to come forward. The manner in which his companion had been handled was enough to convince him that the most prudent thing for him to do was to play the part of spectator only.
Not so, however, with the larger and older youth, who had arrived almost at man's estate. He was quite an athlete among his people, and could scarcely restrain his eagerness to attack the pale face, who had vanquished an opponent younger and weaker than himself. Ogallah nodded his head, and, amid a noise which may be called applause, the young warrior strode forward and laid his hands on Jack, who, realizing the difficult task before him, was resolute, watchful, and yet confident.
The young Sauk seemed to be left handed, like Deerfoot, the Shawanoe, for he placed himself on the right of Jack, and slid his arm over the boy's neck, while Jack assumed his favorite hold with his right. The Indian was slightly the taller, and was naked to the waist, which was encircled by a girdle, containing no weapons, below which were his breech clout, leggings and moccasins. There was nothing on his arms, his costume being that of a professional Indian wrestler "stripped for the fray."
When he slid his arm over Jack's neck, he bent his head forward so that he could look down at their feet. Jack thus found the black hair, parted in the middle and dangling over the coppery shoulders, directly under his eyes. He noted the large, misshapen nose, the narrow forehead, immensely broad temples, and uncouth lower jaw, and, during the few seconds they were waiting, reflected what an ugly warrior the youth was certain to prove if he lived a few years longer.
He was the ringleader among Jack's persecutors, and the lad determined to conquer him if within the range of the most desperate effort. The style in which he took hold of the pale face told the latter that he possessed considerable skill, and it would be a mistake to estimate him too lightly.
Jack reached over his left hand to grasp the right of his antagonist, but the latter declined to take it, and the free hands, therefore, were held, as may be said, in reserve to be used as inclination prompted.
Suddenly the Sauk kicked one of Jack's heels forward and made a quick strong effort to fling him backward. It was done with great deftness, and came within a hair of laying Jack flat on his back. He recovered himself by a fierce effort, and the attempt was instantly repeated, but he saved himself in better shape than before.
Again the two crouched side by side, each with an arm over the other, and watching like cats for the chance to seize an advantage. As a feeler, Jack tried the same trick his foe had used, but the Sauk was too watchful and was scarcely disturbed. All at once the pale face slid his arm down until it rested on the girdle at the waist of the Indian. Then joining his two hands and pressing him until he could hardly breathe, Jack raised him like a flash, clear of his feet, and made as if to throw him forward on his face. At the instant the Sauk put forth his frantic efforts to save himself from going in that direction, Jack reversed the enginery, and sent him backward on his head with a shock that made the ground tremble.
The fall was terrific, and looking down at the motionless figure, Jack believed he had broken his neck.
"I hope I have," he muttered in the flush of his excitement, "but that kind are tough—helloa!"
The prostrate youth began to gasp and make spasmodic movements of his limbs—enough to prove he was alive.
While Jack stood surveying him, as if waiting another attack, the mob broke into the most frightful yells and made a rush for him. He had overthrown those that had been matched against him, and now they meant to kill him; but Jack's faith in Ogallah was not misplaced. He and his brother warriors interfered in such a vigorous manner that not a hair of the boy's head was harmed, and, turning around, he walked into the lodge of the chieftain, conscious that he had won a great victory.
Jack Carleton's triumph over the Indian youth was complete. In a fair wrestling bout he had flung him to the ground with a force that drove the breath from his body, and gave him a more vivid idea of the white man's views of that athletic amusement than he had ever entertained before. But what was to be the outcome of this affair was more than the boy could guess. Physical prowess always commands respect whether the spectators be civilized or savage; but it does not insure against persecution.
"I have made them more revengeful than before," was the thought of the youth, after he hurried back into Ogallah's lodge, and sat panting from his exertion: "they hate me because I am of another race and am in their hands. They are afraid of the chief and, therefore, they will be more careful and I must be the same."
There could be no mistake as to the sentiments of the sachem and his squaw. They were delighted with the ability shown by the pale-faced youth who had evidently overthrown the young champion of the village. Ogallah grinned and chattered with his wife who grinned and chattered in turn. Then the former patted Jack on the back and talked very fast. The boy could not doubt that he was uttering the most high flown compliments and he did a great deal of smiling and bowing in response. The squaw was more demonstrative, for, after bustling about the half-expired fire for awhile, she brought forward a piece of meat which she had taken extra pains in cooking and placed it at his disposal. Jack was not suffering from hunger, but he very gladly ate the food and nodded in acknowledgment.
The crowd around the entrance became so noisy that the chieftain suddenly lost patience, and, springing to his feet, he dashed the bison skin door aside and speedily scattered them.
As Jack sat on the lodge floor, rapidly recovering from his severe exertion, he became conscious of a peculiar feeling which manifested itself at intervals. When he moved, he was slightly dizzy and his heart gave several throbs that were more rapid and spasmodic than usual. He remained quiet, wondering what it could mean, but feeling much inclined to lay it to the exciting scene through which he had just passed. When he began to feel alarmed it passed off.
But if Jack counted on finding all the hours dull and monotonous, from being compelled to stay within the tepee or wigwam of the Sauk chieftain, he was greatly mistaken. Shortly after eating his supplementary breakfast, Ogallah went out, leaving the youth alone with the squaw. This caused Jack some misgiving, for he feared his enemies might take advantage of the warrior's absence to punish him for his victory over the Indian youth. For some minutes he was in much trepidation, and the feeling was not lessened when he caught sight of several coppery faces peeping through the door. However, they ventured on no greater liberties and after a time went away.
All at once a great uproar rose through the village. Shouting, whooping, screeching and all sorts of unimaginable noises rent the air. The sound of hurrying feet was heard, and it was evident that something of an extraordinary character was going on. Jack looked inquiringly at the squaw, but, though she must have known the explanation, she failed for obvious reasons to make it clear to the captive.
Suddenly Ogallah came into the lodge. He uttered a few hurried words to his wife and then beckoned Jack to follow him. The latter had shoved his knife back in place, but did not venture to take his rifle which stood at the other side of the lodge.
"I wonder what's up now," was the natural thought of the lad, as he hastened after him; "have they erected a stake in the middle of the village where I am to be roasted for the amusement of the rest, or am I to be put to a test which I won't be able to stand?"
But fortunately the boy was mistaken in both his theories. The hubbub had no reference to him whatever.
Beginning the night before, a party of bucks and squaws had been employed until long after daylight in cooking the carcass of a bear, that was plump, oily and in the best condition. It was not very large, but where there was so little waste, it can be seen there must have been considerable in the way of food.
The animal was now fairly roasted and the time for feasting had come. Jack understood that much when he ventured outside the lodge and saw the numbers gathering around the "festive board." Naturally he clung close to his protector, but one of the singular features attending his captivity among this offshoot of the Sauk tribe of Indians, was the readiness with which they transferred their attention from one object to another. No one showed any curiosity in him when he appeared on the street—so to speak—but all pushed their way toward the one point of interest.
The shouting and uproar ceased when fourteen warriors marched forth in Indian file, and, arranging themselves around the brown crisp mass of meat, made ready to fall to work, the others watching them. They were all fine looking fellows, their faces painted and their preparations complete for hostilities, with the exception that their rifles were left aside, merely for convenience sake, until the end of the festivities.
Jack Carleton knew he was looking upon a war feast, as they are termed by the Indians, and which were more common among those people at that time than they are to-day. The bear had been carefully cooked expressly for them, and looked grotesquely tempting, as the crisped, browned, and oily carcass dripped over the pile of branches and green leaves to which the cooks had carried it.
The American Indian is ridiculously superstitious, and he has as much terror of an odd number at a war feast, as we have of being one of thirteen at an ordinary dinner party. Under no circumstances would the Sauks have permitted such a defiance of fate itself.
When the fourteen warriors had ranged themselves around the table, they stood for a minute or two, while the others held their breath in expectancy. The tallest Indian, who was the leader of the little company, suddenly whipped out his hunting knife and looked at the others, who imitated him with military promptness. Then he muttered some command, and immediately the whole number sprang upon the waiting carcass, which was carved up in a twinkling. Each cut himself an enormous slice, and, stepping back, began eating with the voracity of a wolf, while the others looked admiringly on. The spectators had held their peace so long that they broke forth again, not so loud as before, but grunting, chattering, and gesticulating like so many children, while Jack Carleton, taking good care to keep close to Ogallah his protector, furtively watched the scene.
The capacity of the red man for fasting and feasting is almost incredible. He will go for days without a mouthful, and then, when an abundance of food is presented, will gorge himself to an extent that would be sure death to an ordinary human being, after which he will smoke, blink, and doze for several days more, just as the famous boa constrictors of Africa are accustomed to do.
Such, however, is his habit only when driven by necessity. The Sauks lived too far south of the frozen regions to suffer such hardships, but one of the requirements of the war-feast was that each one of the party should eat all that he had cut from the carcass. To fail to do so was a sign of weakness sure to subject him to ridicule.
So resolutely did the warriors address themselves to the task, as it may be called, that they succeeded with the exception of a single one. Two or three, however, found it all they could do, and another mouthful of the coarse, oily meat, would have raised a rebellion within their internal economy, which would have caused general wreck and desolation.
The youthful warrior who failed was the one who was the most eager at the first for the feast. He toiled like a hero, and all went well until he reached the last half pound. The others, grinning queerly through their grease and paint, watched him as did the group on the outside of the circle, while he, fully alive to the fact that he was the center of attention, went to work as if resolved to do or die.
It took several vigorous swallows to keep down the installment which had descended, while he held the last piece in his hand and surveyed it with doubtful eye. It finally rested uneasily on the stomach, and he looked more hopefully than ever at the remaining portion, suspended on the point of his hunting knife.
Evidently he was not afraid of that, if what had preceded it would only keep quiet. Finally he made a desperate resolve and quickly crammed his mouth with the oleaginous stuff, upon which he began chewing with savage voracity. Possibly, if he could have got it masticated enough to force down his throat with only a few seconds' delay, all would have been well, but suddenly there was an upward heave of the chest, a sort of general earthquake; the eyes closed, and the mouth opened with a gape so prodigious that it seemed to extend from ear to ear, and threatened to bisect his head. That which followed may be left to the imagination of the reader.
General laughter and taunts greeted the failure, in which Ogallah heartily joined; but the warrior took it in good part, and doubtless felt better than did any of the others participating in the scene of gluttony, inasmuch as his stomach was in its normal condition.
The war feast finished, the fourteen resumed the form of a circle, stood motionless a few minutes, and, all at once, began dancing in the most furious manner. The spectators joined, Ogallah as before being among the most vigorous in the lead, and in a brief while the strange scene was presented of warriors, squaws, and children bounding about, swinging their arms and splitting their throats in the wildest excitement.
"I don't suppose it will do for me to be the only idle one," said Jack Carleton with a laugh and a quick thrill, "so here goes!"
And with a "loud whoop" he leaped high in air, and began shouting in as discordant tones as those around him. In truth, there was no more enthusiastic member of the company than young Carleton, who jumped, yelled, and conducted himself so much like an irrestrainable lunatic that a spectator would have supposed he was setting the cue for the others.
Ogallah and several of the warriors glanced at the pale face with some curiosity, and probably a few comments were made upon the performance of the youth. Their precise tenor, as a matter of course, can only be conjectured, but Jack was confident they were of a complimentary character, for the heartiness which he showed must have pleased them.
While going about in this hilarious fashion, there were many collisions and overturnings. Once Jack bumped so violently against some one that both turned their heads and glared at each other. The offender was the Indian youth whom Jack had beaten so handsomely in the wrestling bout. For an instant the dusky lad held his hand on the knife in his girdle, and was on the point of rushing at Jack; but the latter meaningly grasped the handle of his weapon, and returned his glare with equal fierceness.
It was enough, and the revelry continued. Had the Sauks been in possession of firewater, the excitement would have intensified, until weapons would have been drawn and a general fight precipitated, accompanied with loss of more than one life. Such is the outcome of most of the similar feasts held among the red men all through the west: but there was not a drop of intoxicating stuff within reach of the village, and thus the murderous wind-up of the festival was averted.
The dance lasted until many dropped from exhaustion. Jack Carleton was compelled to cease from sheer weakness, and staggering to one side, sat down on what he supposed was a log, but which proved to be a very live Indian who was also in quest of rest. Being extended on his face, he threw up his back, much after the manner of a mustang when "bucking," and Jack was sent sprawling.
"It don't make any difference," muttered the boy with a laugh, "for I'm so tired that I can rest in one place as well as another, and I'll wait here till the show is over."
And wait he did for the conclusion, which came very speedily.
When the war party grew weary of the furious dance, they stopped, formed themselves in Indian file, and with the leader at the head, marched to the tepee, where they had left their rifles. They reappeared a moment later, each bearing his weapon in hand, and quickly reformed as before. Then all uttered several loud whoops, to which the enthusiastic supporters responded with equal vim, and they marched in the same file and with the same steady step toward the forest on the other side the clearing. Right soon they vanished from view among the trees. They had gone in quest of scalps, but in the hunt more than one proud spirited brave was to lose his own natural head-gear, and of those who went forth, the majority never came back again.
Now that the main cause of the hullabaloo was removed, the Sauks gained more time to view their immediate surroundings. When Jack tottered to one side to obtain the needed rest, he separated himself from Ogallah, who showed no signs of wearying of the terrific exercise.
"I guess it will be as well for me to hunt him up," was the decision of the youth, "for he may need my care."
But when the boy rose to his feet and looked around he saw nothing of the sachem, though all the rest of the village appeared to be in the immediate neighborhood. None of them had offered to molest Jack, but he felt great misgiving. Fortunately the lodge of the chieftain was not distant.
While the dance was going on, an experience befell young Carleton which has not been told, but which should be given. In the bright glare of the morning sun, the countenance of every one was distinctly visible, and Jack was impressed by the fact that one heavy, squat redskin was viewing him with peculiar interest. He passed in front of the boy several times, and on each occasion cast a piercing glance at him.
This of itself might not have been so noticeable but for the impression which deepened on Jack that he and the warrior had met at some other time and in some other place.
He was impatient with himself because he could not recall the circumstances. Had it been on the other side of the Mississippi, it would have been no wonder, for, from his earliest boyhood he had been accustomed to seeing red men, and it would be impossible to remember them all; but he was convinced he had met the Indian since he and Otto had immigrated to Louisiana.
Possibly Jack might have answered the question had he been given time to think over it without disturbance; but he had scarcely begun to look around for Ogallah, when he was alarmed by the demonstrations of the crowd around him. They began pushing forward, and the squaws and children showed an unpleasant disposition to lay hands on him.
There was no use of standing on dignity. In a few minutes he would be hemmed in so he could not move, and the lodge of the chieftain was not far away. Shoving a little screeching girl from his path, Jack bounded away like a deer, straight for the shelter. The act was so sudden that it threw him in advance of the rest, but there were plenty of runners as fleet as he, and despite the start he gained, several were at his heels, and one of them came very near tripping him. Jack pressed on, and, within a rod of the entrance to the kingly wigwam, the Indian who made the attempt to trip him appeared at his side, and then threw himself directly in front.
One glance showed the fugitive that it was the youth whom he had overthrown in the wrestling bout.
"Oh, it's you, is it?" exclaimed Jack; "you haven't had enough yet!"
And, quick as a flash, he drove his fist straight into the grinning visage with all the force he could concentrate in his good right arm. The amazed youth described a back somerset, his moccasins up in the air, and his ugly nose flattened to the shape of a crimson turnip. Then leaping over the prostrate figure, Jack made several bounds, and dove into the lodge just in time to avoid colliding with Ogallah, who had approached the door from the inside to learn the cause of the new tumult.
The chief went far enough to obtain a good view of the audacious youth who was in the act of climbing to his feet, and groping for his nose and principal features in a blind way, as though doubtful whether any of them were left. The clamoring rioters were scattered once more, Ogallah adding a few words, probably meant as a warning against their persecuting his ward, for it may as well be stated that from that time forward the demonstrations against Jack were of a much less serious nature.
"I suppose I've got to fight every time I go out of the lodge," said young Carleton, with a dogged shake of the head; "they mean to kill me whenever they gain the chance, and more than likely I'll have to go, but I'll make it cost them more than they count on. When I can't use my fists I'll use my knife."
The mistress of the establishment, seating herself at the other end of the lodge, lit her pipe with as much indifference as though nothing unusual had taken place. Her mongrel pup came trotting along the space in his sidelong fashion and lay down with his nose against her slouchy moccasins, thereby proving his bravery, so far as any offense against his olfactories was concerned. Ogallah having made his speech and scattered the rabble, turned about and came slowly after the dog, seating himself near the middle of the lodge, where he also lit his long-stemmed pipe.
Just then some one pushed the bison skin aside, and stepped within the residence. Despite his sluggish manner, Ogallah flirted his head like a flash, probably suspecting that one of Jack's tormentors had dared to follow him within his shelter. But the individual was a full-grown warrior, who would not have descended to such business, and the grunt of the sachem was meant as a cordial welcome to him who grunted in return.
Jack Carleton also glanced at him, and was astonished not a little to observe that he was the same warrior who had scrutinized him so closely while the war feast was going on, and whom, the youth was well convinced, he had met elsewhere.
There could be no mistake as to the interest which the visitor felt in the captive, for his black, penetrating eyes were not removed from him during the several minutes which followed his entry into the lodge. Not only that, but halting in front of the lad, he began talking and gesticulating with useless vigor, inasmuch as Jack could not gain an inkling of what was meant. Indeed, had the youth attempted afterward to describe the gestures, he would have referred to them all as pointless, excepting the series which consisted of a violent sweep of both arms to the westward, after pointing his finger at the wondering Jack Carleton. Altogether at a loss as to their significance, it was fortunate (as will appear hereafter), that the lad was able to recall and describe the motions to another, who had a hundred fold more woodcraft and mental acumen than he.
Poor Jack could only shake his head and smile sadly by way of reply to this performance, and, after Ogallah had added something, the warrior ceased, took his seat beside the chief and employed himself in smoking and talking.
"Whocanhe be? He knows me and I—ah! I remember!"
Sure enough, and why had he not thought of it before? He was one of the five Indians who had left the other five and gone off with Otto Relstaub, on the day that he and Jack Carleton were captured by the band so near their own home. More than that, Jack had seen the others that same morning in the village at the war feast, though the recollection of them was so shadowy that it had not caused him the perplexity produced by the appearance of the warrior before him.
With the truth came the startling question—Where was Otto? While his captors were in the village, he certainly was elsewhere. What had become of him?
The question fairly took away the breath of Jack and made him faint at heart.
"He can't be at home, for Otto never could have made his escape from them;he must be dead!"
The first declaration of the youth my reader knows was true, for the visit of Deerfoot, several days later to Martinsville, as has been described, proved it. As to the second theory, that will be investigated in due time.
One of the most trying features of this occurrence was the certainty Jack felt that the Indian visitor was trying to tell him something about Otto. Those swinging arms, swaying head and apoplectic grunting carried a message within themselves, which, if translated would be found of great importance; but alas! the interpreter had not come.
While the lad sat on the bison robe, reflecting over the matter, he became aware of the peculiar sensations that alarmed him some time before. His head was dizzy, a curious lightness took possession of his limbs, and he felt that if he should undertake to cross the lodge, he would stagger and fall like a drunken man.
"I'm going to be ill," he said, pressing his hand to his forehead; "something is wrong with me."
The shock which came with the conviction was deepened by the belief that he was about to go through the experience that had befallen poor Otto Relstaub.
"He fell sick while tramping through the woods with the Indians, and they have either tomahawked or left him to die. These people with all their Medicine Men and Women know nothing about curing sick folks, and if Idobecome ill that will be the end of me."
The boy was in anything but a cheerful frame of mind, but he faced the position like a hero. He did not lose heart, though he was sure that his situation was worse than ever before, and he did not forget any of the incidents of the journey from Kentucky to Louisiana, when many a time there seemed not the slightest ground for hope.
After smoking awhile Ogallah and his visitor got up and went out doors. The chief was gone but a short time when he came back, and, as he resumed his seat, grunted out something to his squaw, who immediately laid down her pipe, tenderly shoved the nose of her dog aside and left the place.
While Jack was wondering what the meaning of these movements could be, the attack of weakness which had alarmed him passed off, like the fleeing shadow of a cloud. It was followed by a natural rebound of spirits, and he too rose to his feet and walked toward the door.
The sachem looked inquiringly at him, but showed no objection to his departure. The boy placed his hand at his waist to make sure his hunting knife was there, and at the entrance paused a moment in doubt.
"I wonder whether they will set on me again," he said to himself; "if they do I will use my weapon—that's certain, and then there will be a bigger rumpus than before."
The knowledge that the chief who had served so many times as friend was near at hand added much to Jack's courage, when he finally let the bison-skin door drop behind him.
The explanation of the squaw's departure was manifest at once. She had a long sharpened stick in her hands, with which she was stirring the earth around some hills of corn growing on a small plot near their lodge. Extending his gaze, Jack saw many other squaws engaged in the same manner, but among them all was not a single man. They were lolling in their wigwams, smoking or dozing, or hunting in the woods for game or scalps.
The younger members of the community seemed to be the happiest of all. A number were playing by the river, and some were plunging into the stream, swimming, diving, and disporting themselves like porpoises; others were deep in some kind of game, on the clearing near the woods, and all were as shouting and demonstrative as so many civilized youngsters engaged in a game of ball.
Anxious to learn whether his last affray with his persecutors was likely to lessen or increase their hostility, Jack Carleton gradually advanced from the lodge until he was close to the group playing on the large cleared space, while those by the river were much nearer his refuge than he.
This was assuming considerable risk, as all must admit, but the boy took it with much caution and with his eyes wide open, meaning to make the most hurried kind of retreat the instant it might become necessary.