CHAPTER XIII.
SUMMONED TO COURT.
At the end of a week George and Victor Shelton had become full-fledged Blackfoot citizens. Several causes united to bring about this pleasant state of affairs. In the first place, the boys used tact and good sense. If the attention they drew to themselves became annoying at times they did not allow their new friends to see it. They played with the dusky youths, and were not sorry to find plenty no older than they who could outrun and outjump them. It was too cold to go in swimming, but one day when George and Victor were crossing the stream in front of the village with three other lads, one of whom was their young friend Smiler, heir apparent to the Blackfoot throne, the overloaded canoe suddenly sank below its gunwales, and all had to swim through the icy waters to shore. Every one of the three arrived first, and Smiler beat them all, though in this instance I cannot help suspecting that the two young Blackfeet favored the prince, but they beat the brothers fairly.
When the weather was good there were sometimes as many as fifty lads playing on the common or cleared space at the rear of the village. They indulged in a species of foot-ball, like the modern game, which was marked by the roughest kind of play. In violence it sometimes approached our own foot-ball, and blows were often given and received in the fierce rushing.
On a certain forenoon, in a particularly exciting contest, one of the players landed a blow on the side of Victor's head, which sent him sprawling to earth. His quick temper flashed into a flame, and he leaped up with doubled fists and made for the offender, who coolly awaited him. A warning cry from George recalled his brother to his senses, and, instead of attacking his assailant, he laughingly plunged into the melee, which went on as merrily as before.
When five Indian youths invited their guests to go on a hunt the boys took their rifles, but their hosts carried only bows and arrows. On the return of the tired party at nightfall they brought the choice portions of three antelopes, two of which were slain by the youthful Blackfeet, while the one that George Shelton had brought down received also an effective thrust from an arrow. The dusky hunters "guyed" the palefaces who could not do as well as they with their primitive weapons, even though the fire spouted from the iron tubes and the balls that could not be seen by the eye carried death farther than did the missiles launched by the natives. George and Victor took it all in good part, and did not resent the taunts that were numerous.
Another strong contributing cause to the popularity of the Shelton boys was Mul-tal-la, He was home but a short time when everyone in the village knew of the generous hospitality he had received from the boys and their friends. This appeal to the gratitude of the Blackfeet produced the best effect. Mul-tal-la and the messengers, Spink and Jiggers, had something to add, and their stories of the remarkable young Shawanoe roused much curiosity to see him and witness some of the exploits of which he was said to be capable.
Chief Taggarak did not return until nearly a week after the arrival of the brothers, and then he kept much to himself. He was reserved and gloomy, and though George and Victor caught several glimpses of him, and though they continued to make much of his two boys, for the younger moved about the settlement as freely as the elder, the great war chief ignored the presence of the visitors until he had been at home for several days.
One afternoon, after the return of a party from a hunt, Mul-tal-la appeared at the lodge of George and Victor with word that the chief wished them to come before him for a talk. The boys knew so little of the Blackfoot tongue that Mul-tal-la was to act as interpreter.
"What does he wish with us?" asked George, who, like Victor, felt some misgiving as to the object of this command.
"Mul-tal-la does not know, but his brothers need have no fear."
"What did he say to you?" asked Victor.
"Only that he wished to see and talk with you. Come with me."
It was about the middle of the afternoon when the lads, under the lead of their dusky friend, threaded their way among the tepees to one near the middle of the village, which might be considered the royal residence. This structure differed from the others in that it was double the capacity of an ordinary lodge, that one side consisted of a broad face of rock, that it was in the shape of a square, supported at two corners by upright poles, the rock serving as the remaining support. The fire was always kindled against the base of this mass of stone, an opening just above serving as an outlet for the smoke.
When the visitors arrived Taggarak was alone, seated at one side of the large apartment, with a small fire burning in its usual place. His royal consort and two children were excluded from the conference.
The war chief was about forty years of age, and his face showed him to be a man of exceptional ability and mental strength. It was easy to understand the iron will with which he ruled the turbulent and warlike Blackfeet. He had thrown aside his blanket and sat in a close-fitting shirt of deerskin, with girdle at the waist, and with leggings and moccasins.
Taggarak was not a handsome Indian, but he was of striking mien. His long black hair, without ornament of any kind, dangled about his shoulders; his mouth was broad; his nose well formed; his eyes black and piercing, rather small, and seemed to glitter with fire from under his eyebrows. His cheek-bones were prominent, the chin square and firm, and the expression of the countenance stern to the last degree. Wrinkles already showed in his low, wide forehead and at the corners of his eyes. There were two scars on one cheek, and his arms and body, had they been uncovered, would have revealed many more, for Taggarak was a mighty warrior, who had beaten down many foes in single combat, and had eagerly risked his life in resisting the desperate raids made against his tribe, or in pushing invasions among others of his own race. Unlike many of his own people, he never was vain enough to wear the scalp-lock, nor did he disfigure his face with paint. When he went upon the warpath his enemies speedily found it out, without any such childish notices.
Mul-tal-la led the way into the imperial wigwam, the brothers closely following. The three respectfully saluted the chief, who looked keenly at them as they entered, and, without returning their greeting, pointed to a pile of furs on the farther side of the lodge, where the callers seated themselves, removed their caps, and awaited the pleasure of the great man.
An Ominous Interview.An Ominous Interview.
You will be better pleased with a free translation of the conversation, remembering that Mul-tal-la acted as the mouthpiece of the chief and the boys, though the latter had picked up enough knowledge of the tongue to catch the meaning of a good many of the words spoken by Taggarak, who, of course, knew nothing of English.
"My sons have come a long way from the land of the rising sun. Why did they leave their friends to make so long a journey?"
"We loved Mul-tal-la, and wished to look upon the great and good chieftain Taggarak, of whom Mul-tal-la said many words of praise."
This reply was made by Victor, and was duly filtrated through the interpreter, who was pleased with the words so flattering to himself. It must be admitted that when Victor tried his hand he showed himself a promising student of diplomacy.
George thought it well to add his answer:
"Hunters told us of the great land that lay toward the setting sun, and we longed to look upon it, as Mul-tal-la and his friend longed to look upon the country where we make our home."
"When do my sons go back to their dwelling place?"
"The snows will be deep in the mountains for many moons; the palefaces will perish if they try to labor through them. They will wait till the sun melts the snows, and the buds come on the trees and the singing of the birds trembles in the air. They will be glad to do this if the great Taggarak is not displeased to have them stay among his people."
This had the sound of a hint for an invitation. Being such, however, it failed of its purpose, for the chieftain ignored it. Perhaps he did not think it worth the trouble to tell the youths they were welcome; that was to be assumed from the hospitality already shown them.
"Taggarak has heard of a wonderful warrior who came from the land of the rising sun. Where is he?"
"He has a horse that he loved, which was lost, and he is searching for him."
"There are many horses among the Blackfeet; he could have one of them."
"But there is none like the black stallion of Deerfoot."
"Where did the warrior get him!"
"The stallion was the leader of a drove of wild horses. Deerfoot sought him out and conquered him without saddle or bridle or the help of anyone."
This statement seemed so incredible that Mul-tal-la felt it necessary to add his own statement that the words of the pale-faced lad were true, for he had seen the exploit of the Shawanoe with his own eyes. Even then it is to be feared the chieftain refused to believe the story.
"Are all the Shawanoes like this warrior!"
"There is none like him," was the reply of Victor Shelton, whose full answer was faithfully translated to Chief Taggarak. "The Shawanoes, nor Wyandots, nor Chippewas, nor Nez Perces, nor Shoshones, nor Assiniboines, nor any tribe are as great as the Blackfeet. Had Deerfoot been a member of any of them, he would have been the greatest among them all, with the exception of the mighty Taggarak, whom no one can equal."
Ah, but this youth from the Buckeye State was sly. He looked at the rigid coppery countenance of the chieftain as these words were interpreted to him. The youth thought he detected a sparkle of the small black eyes, but I fear it was only fancy.
"Why is he called Deerfoot?"
"The palefaces gave him that name because no deer can run as fast as he."
"My sons speak with a double tongue," said the chief, frowning.
"They might in the presence of anyone but Taggarak, but to him they use only a single tongue. Let the great chieftain wait and see Deerfoot for himself."
Unquestionably Victor was advancing fast along the path of diplomacy.
"When will the Shawanoe be with the Blackfeet, who wait to welcome him?"
"We hope not many suns will set before he comes; but he has had a long way to journey, and may have to slay other warriors that are not willing to let Deerfoot have his steed."
"The Shawanoe may fall and never see his paleface brothers again."
"We have no fear of that," airily replied George. The next question of Taggarak was as startling as unexpected:
"Does the Shawanoe teach the religion of the red men or that of the palefaces?"
The brothers looked significantly at each other as Mul-tal-la translated these words, but Victor scarcely hesitated in his reply.
"Deerfoot teaches the religion that he believes is true. It is of a Great Spirit, who wishes his children to live in friendship with one another; not to make war; to show mercy to all; to be forgiving and do what they can to make other people happy. Such is the wish of the Great Spirit. Deerfoot lives according to that faith, and we believe in it, and try to do as he does."
The chief looked steadily in the face of the youth while he was speaking, though he did not understand a syllable until it was properly rendered by Mul-tal-la. Victor gazed as unflinchingly into the fierce countenance before him, while uttering the noble sentiments. His self-respect forbade any shrinking on his part when such a question was put to him. As the interpreter waited for him to finish, Victor added:
"Tell him exactly what I said."
"And that the answer is from both of us," added George.
Mul-tal-la obeyed, but carefully refrained from saying that he, too, had accepted the new religion, and that the warriors who acted as messengers were pondering over it, and had spoken to some of their comrades on the momentous theme. It is not for us to censure the red man if he was cautious, for, if need be, he was ready to die for the truth.
The thin lips of Taggarak curled with scorn when he caught the full meaning of the reply of the youth. His patience was gone.
"The Shawanoe does not belong to the tribe of Taggarak. My sons, the palefaces, are of another race; they may believe any lies they choose, for it is naught to Taggarak. But none of Taggarak's people shall believe it! And if the Shawanoe seeks to turn them from the faith of their fathers, the Shawanoe shall die! My sons will tell the Shawanoe what Taggarak has said, that when he comes among the Blackfeet he shall live. Taggarak has spoken, and my sons may go. They will not forget the words of Taggarak."
CHAPTER XIV.
A NEW BLACKFOOT CITIZEN.
The words of Taggarak the war chief weighed heavily upon George and Victor Shelton, for nothing was more certain to them than that trouble for Deerfoot was near. He could not be frightened into any attempt to hide his light under a bushel, or to deny the faith that was woven into the very fibre of his being. The brothers talked the question over many times. It was never referred to between them and Mul-tal-la, for the Blackfoot could give them no help, and the final solution of the problem must be reached by Deerfoot himself.
Our young friends joined as earnestly in the games, the fishing and hunting as ever, and no one looking upon them would have dreamed that they suffered any discomfort of mind. Thus the days passed until two more weeks had gone by, and they began to wonder at the long absence of the Shawanoe.
There had been a flurry of snow, and the weather was perceptibly colder. As they sat in their lodge after finishing their late meal, the sifting of the needle-like points against the bison hides was soothing to the ear, and the crackling wood fire gave a cheerful illumination to the interior.
Reclining on the soft warm robes, they recurred to the theme that was continually in their thoughts.
"I am almost sorry we ever came to this place," said George, with a sigh. "We have had an interesting experience, have made a number of friends, such as they are, though there can never be much in the way of friendship between us and these people."
"How could we have spent the winter, which will be cold and severe?" asked his brother.
"Deerfoot would have had no trouble in finding some cave in the rocks which we could have fitted up into as good a house as this. There are places, too, where the horses would have been sheltered from the storms, and we could gather plenty of cottonwood bark when grass was beyond reach, and thus kept the animals alive."
"Perhaps that might have been done, but I don't believe it is as easy as you think. It seems to me our hope is in Deerfoot's tact. He will not listen in silence to any attack upon his faith, and when the heathen inquire of him he will answer them truly, but he has enough respect for the rank of Taggarak not to offend him when there is no need of doing so."
"You see he has already sown seed, and there will be inquiries by others from him. Spink and Jiggers have been thoughtful a long time. They have spoken to others. Mul-tal-la must have done the same, though he is cautious and fears to offend the chief. All these and many others will question Deerfoot, who will answer them without thought or care, even though a hundred Taggaraks stood in his way."
"Tact is a good thing, but all that I can see it is likely to do in this case is to postpone the trouble."
In the midst of their gloomy talk, and with the snow still rattling against the dry bison robes of their tepee, the flap was suddenly lifted and Deerfoot the Shawanoe entered and caught the hand of each delighted boy. His face was aglow with health and pleasure, for they were no happier than he over the reunion.
They slapped him on the shoulder, shook his hand again and again, and plied him with so many questions that minutes passed before there was anything like coherence in their boisterous chatter.
"Where did you leave Whirlwind?" asked George, thereby implying that he had not a shadow of doubt of the success of the venture of the young Shawanoe.
"This afternoon, when coming from the east to this settlement," replied their friend, "Deerfoot came in sight of Mul-tal-la, who was hunting alone. He had just shot an antelope, and we sat down and ate it together. Then we came to the village as it was growing dark. Mul-tal-la showed Deerfoot where the horses are free. There is snow on the ground, but not enough to hide all the grass, and Deerfoot was told of a place to the west, where Mul-tal-la says the shelter sometimes permits the grass to keep green all winter. There the horses will soon be taken, and shelter has been made for them. Whirlwind, after Deerfoot had talked with him, consented to go among the horses, as Zigzag, Prince and the others have done. He does not like to mingle with common animals, and is as proud as ever."
"We have enough left of our buffalo meat to furnish you a meal, Deerfoot, but you told us you had eaten only a little while ago."
"Deerfoot thanks his brothers, and will not eat until to-morrow."
"I suppose Mul-tal-la told you all about us?"
"He has left little for you to tell. Deerfoot is glad to hear his brothers have been so well, but they have much to say that he would like to hear."
"O Deerfoot!" exclaimed Victor; "tell us how you got Whirlwind back. You must have had a pretty hard time, for you were gone a month."
The three seated themselves on the soft furs, George first throwing additional wood on the blaze, and the Shawanoe, knowing how interested his friends were, modestly related the story with which you became familiar long ago. The boys were so absorbed in the narration that they did not speak nor move until it was ended. He made light of the dangers and difficulties which he overcame, and it was plain to his listeners that he slurred over more than one of his most remarkable exploits.
The brothers found it almost amusing to hear that the young Shawanoe had so wrenched one of his ankles that he could not use it for a time. It was so remarkable to learn that he had suffered from anything of that nature that they found it hard to associate the two. The manner in which Deerfoot stepped into the tent proved that he did not feel the slightest effects of the hurt. The Shawanoe told his friends that he and Mul-tal-la had purposely tarried outside the village until dark, because the newcomer did not care to have his arrival become known until the morrow. He wished to enjoy the first evening undisturbed with his old friends. Being on foot, with a blanket about his shoulders like Mul-tal-la and many other Blackfeet, he looked so much like one of them in the night that he attracted no notice, and Mul-tal-la promised to tell no one of the presence of the youth whom all were eager to see.
It was not until late in the evening that the Shawanoe spoke of the theme that had troubled the brothers so long. Mul-tal-la had told him of the conversation with Taggarak, and he asked the boys to give their recollection, not omitting a word they could recall. Their friend listened gravely, and was silent when they had finished, his dark eyes fixed upon the fire in the middle of the lodge, as if his meditations had drifted beyond the time and place. After waiting for several minutes, Victor said:
"Deerfoot, you can't know how much we are worried. We understand how you feel and that no danger can scare you into denying the true religion, any more than it can scare George and me, but you may as well be careful and avoid rousing the anger of Taggarak, so long as there is no need of provoking him."
"What would my brothers have Deerfoot do?" gently asked, the Shawanoe.
"We don't know," replied George. "Vic and I have talked about this a hundred times since our call on the chief, and we are puzzled as well as worried."
"Are my brothers ready to die for the religion?"
"We are, and will prove it if it ever becomes necessary; but," added Victor, "we don't see the need of dying when there isn't any need of it."
This original bit of philosophy caused Deerfoot to turn and look with a half-serious expression into the face of Victor.
"How great is the wisdom of my brother! Who taught him such things?"
Then assuming a graver countenance, but gazing steadily at his friend, he added:
"There was One who died on the cross for you and Deerfoot."
There was a world of meaning in these words, and they fitly closed the conversation for the night. All lay down soon after and slept until morning.
The snow ceased falling, and only a thin coating lay on the ground at daylight. An unusual moderation in the temperature carried this away before nightfall, and the weather became almost spring-like, or rather resembled the lingering days of Indian summer, which are the expiring gasp of the mild season, soon to be followed by the biting rigors of winter.
Before noon it was known throughout the Blackfoot village that the remarkable young Shawanoe had arrived. The excitement was greater than that caused by the coming of Victor and George Shelton, and for a time Deerfoot was seriously annoyed, but he strove to bear it with the sensible philosophy of his nature. Those who saw him as he moved here and there with the boys, or Mul-tal-la, or Spink and Jiggers, had to admit the truth of the assertion heard many times; he was the most prepossessing young warrior upon whom any of them had ever looked. Neither among the Blackfeet nor any of their neighboring tribes had so comely a youth been seen. And this being the fact, many were more unwilling than before to believe he was so powerful, so active, so fleet of foot and so athletic as had been claimed. This doubt was not lessened by the conduct of Deerfoot himself. He soon became acquainted with nearly everyone in the village, and went upon hunting expeditions with them, but displayed no more skill than most of his companions. He avoided all trials of speed, though often invited to take part by the doubters. In crossing the river in a canoe with two of his new acquaintances, he swung a paddle, while each of them did the same. The Blackfeet saw no evidence of skill superior to theirs, because in truth none was displayed. He was urged to take part in their games, but made excuse to act only as spectator. He did not wish to become a competitor and deceive the others by not doing his best. His modesty led him to shrink from exhibiting his abilities. Moreover, he had a feeling that it savored of ingratitude or lack of appreciation of the hospitality he was receiving to place himself at the fore, as he knew he could readily do.
But it had to come. Too many boasts had been made by the friends of Deerfoot for the envious Blackfeet to allow the Shawanoe to rest upon such laurels. Neither Mul-tal-la nor the brothers would abate one bit of their claims. Deerfoot would have stopped them had not the mischief, as he viewed it, been done before his coming. He could only remain mute and hope the matter would die out of itself. But that was impossible.
The most noted test of athletic skill that ever occurred in the history of the Blackfeet tribe took place one bright, keen, sunshiny afternoon on the bleak plain at the rear of the village. A week had been spent in making the preparations as thorough as they could be made. Runners came from three of the other villages, and they were the flower of the tribe—lithe, sinewy, swift and splendid specimens of manly beauty, symmetry and grace. Each was worthy of being called a champion, and all were confident of lowering the colors of the dusky stranger from the land of the rising sun, who had been presumptuous enough to be persuaded to enter a trial that must disgrace him. More than one believed that in his chagrin the Shawanoe would hasten from the village and never more be seen in that part of the world.
Now, it would be interesting to tell all about this memorable tournament, but you have no more doubt of the result than did the victor from the moment he consented to enter into it. Mul-tal-la and the Shelton brothers, including Spink and Jiggers, impressed upon the Shawanoe the necessity of his doing his best, no matter what the nature of the struggle might be. He promised to follow their counsel, as he did that of Simon Kenton at the foot race at Woodvale the year before.
Five contestants entered against Deerfoot. The distance was about two hundred yards. Never before was the Shawanoe pitted against such fleet runners, but he finished the struggle fifty feet in front of the foremost. The spectators, as well as the defeated runners themselves, were dazed, and could hardly credit their own senses.
Not less crushing were Deerfoot's victories in the running, the standing and the high jump. Like all great athletes, his triumphs seemed to be won without calling upon his reserve capacity, and therefore with much less apparent effort than shown by his rivals. In firing at a target, he left the few marksmen of the tribe hopelessly out of sight. Then he borrowed Mul-tal-la's bow, and every arrow that he launched went farther and truer than any other. Altogether it was a great day for Deerfoot the Shawanoe.
CHAPTER XV.
THE SPIRIT CIRCLE.
Never in all their lives were the Shelton brothers prouder of Deerfoot the Shawanoe than when they saw him utterly defeat the finest athletes of the Blackfoot tribe. The youth had done his best, as he was urged to do, and his triumph was too overwhelming for anyone to question it. He had been pitted against the very flower of that powerful people, who at that time numbered between three and four thousand souls. The pick of the runners and marksmen had come from the other villages, and every one was decisively vanquished.
The delight of Mul-tal-la and of Spink and Jiggers was hardly less than that of the boys. Mul-tal-laknewthe Shawanoe would win, while the other two Blackfeet merely believed it, for they had never been intimately associated with the champion of champions, and only remembered what Mul-tal-la told them he had witnessed.
Human nature is the same the world over, and among the defeated ones was a feeling of envy and resentment toward the young warrior who belonged to another tribe, and who, after coming many hundreds of miles, had put them all to shame. This was to be expected, and it caused no uneasiness to Deerfoot, who had faced it many times among his own race as well as on the part of white people.
But the Shawanoe took little or no pleasure in his victory. He had entered into the contest because he could not help it. Had he reached the village at the same time with his friends, he would have sternly forbidden any reference to his brilliant physical powers, and thus prevented the tournament that was so distasteful to him; but, as I have shown, the mischief was done before he came upon the scene. His reputation had been proclaimed, and naught remained but to prove that only the simple truth had been told of him.
That evening the four friends who had spent so many days and nights together were gathered in the lodge at the northern end of the village. Time had been given for the excitement to die out. Three of the defeated champions were well on their way to their own village, when, had the result been different, they would have staid for several days in what may be considered the Blackfoot capital. The hum and murmur of voices and the restless moving to and fro were audible outside, but the old companions were left to themselves. Mul-tal-la had succeeded in impressing upon his countrymen that when their guests retired to their tepee they were not to be intruded upon.
The fire was burning in the middle of the primitive home, and George and Victor Shelton and Mul-tal-la were seated on the furs that were spread along three sides of the apartment. Deerfoot sat by himself, removed from all. He was partly reclining on one elbow and gazing into the fire, as if sunk in meditation. The boys knew the meaning of his attitude and air; he was dissatisfied with what had occurred that day.
"By gracious!" said Victor; "if I could do what you did, Deerfoot, I'd be so proud I wouldn't speak to George or Mul-tal-la or you; and yet you don't seem to feel a bit stuck up. You ought to be ashamed of yourself."
The Shawanoe made no reply, but continued gazing into the fire, as if he did not hear the words. George added:
"Your victory will be talked about among all the Blackfoot villages, and the children of to-day will tell their children about it long after we are gone."
Mul-tal-la kept glancing at Deerfoot with an admiring, affectionate expression, and, noting his continued silence, he said in a gentle voice:
"The Blackfeet did not think Mul-tal-la spoke with a single tongue; they said his words were lies, but they do not say so now."
"I didn't see anything of Taggarak," added Victor. "I looked around for him after the battle was won. Why did he stay away?"
Deerfoot for the first time noted what was said. He lifted his head from his elbow and sat upright.
"Taggarak was there; Deerfoot saw him," he quietly remarked.
"Yes; Mul-tal-la passed near him. The chief kept by himself and spoke to no one. He was on the side nearest the wood. Just before the last race was won he turned away and went back to his lodge."
"What was the meaning ofthat?" asked the Shawanoe. "Is he displeased with the defeat of his young men?"
"It is the other way; he is glad their conceit has been checked. The Blackfeet are great boasters, and he has reproved them many times. Mul-tal-la saw him smile when Deerfoot came home many paces in front of that tall warrior, who is the greatest boaster of them all. Taggarak was glad when he was defeated."
"It pleases us more than we can tell to know that Deerfoot has won the good-will of the war chief," observed George Shelton, who could not forget that ominous conversation they had had some time before with Taggarak. "It will make our stay more pleasant than I believed it would be."
The observant Victor noticed that Mul-tal-la gave no reply to this remark, which had been made in the hope of being confirmed by the Blackfoot. The latter glanced at the Shawanoe, whose eyes again rested upon the fire. George threw a couple of sticks in the blaze and then resumed his seat beside his brother. When the stillness was becoming oppressive, Mul-tal-la startled all three of his listeners by what was certainly a remarkable question:
"Is Deerfoot afraid of any man?"
Even the Shawanoe flashed a surprised look upon the Blackfoot.
"Why does my brother ask Deerfoot that?"
"He shall soon know. Will Deerfoot answer Mul-tal-la?"
The question seemed to rouse the Shawanoe, who spoke with more animation than he had shown since the group had come together for the evening.
"No; Deerfoot fears no man that lives! God has given him more power and skill than he deserves. He has never denied protection to Deerfoot. He has told him to do right, and Deerfoot tries to obey His will. When He thinks the time has come for Deerfoot to go to Him, Deerfoot will be ready and will be glad. Deerfoot knows He is not pleased with such things as took place to-day. What is it for one man to run faster or shoot straighter than another? No credit belongs tohim, for it is God who gives him the power. Deerfoot would sin if he shrank from any task laid upon him; but a victory like that just won does no one any good. Deerfoot would be happier if he could turn the thoughts of all those people to the true God."
In the warmth of his feelings the Shawanoe had wandered from the question just asked him, but in doing so he revealed the nobility of his nature. He was oppressed by the belief that the strife in which he had been the victor not only accomplished no real good, but actually retarded the work he had in mind. He came back to the question his friend had just asked.
"Why does my brother think Deerfoot is afraid of any man?"
Mul-tal-la could not hide a certain nervousness, but with all the calmness he could summon he parried the direct question by the remark:
"The most terrible warrior of all the Blackfeet is Taggarak the chieftain; he has slain many men in battle and has never been conquered."
The inference from this remark was obvious even to the boys. It was Victor who asked in surprise:
"Is Deerfoot to fight with Taggarak? If he does, I'll bet on Deerfoot."
To any others except those present the words of the Shawanoe would have sounded like boasting, but there was no such thought in his heart.
"Deerfoot has no more fear of Taggarak than he has of a pappoose. He may be a great warrior, but Deerfoot has conquered as great warriors as he."
Determined that Mul-tal-la should parry no longer, the Shawanoe forced him to a direct answer.
"Why does my brother think Taggarak wishes to fight him?"
The reply was astonishing:
"The squaw of Taggarak is seeking to learn of the God that she has been told is known to the Shawanoe. She has asked me, she has asked Kepkapkolakak and Borabtrik (the messengers known as 'Spink' and 'Jiggers'). She does not sleep because of her heaviness of mind."
"Does Taggarak know of this?" asked the surprised Deerfoot.
"Not yet; but it must soon come to his knowledge."
"Will he harm his wife?"
"Mul-tal-la cannot say; he may put her to death. There is no doubt that he will slay Deerfoot—if he can," added the Blackfoot significantly, "or he will make him walk around the Spirit Circle till he drops dead."
Deerfoot stared in astonishment. He was mystified.
"The Spirit Circle," he repeated. "Does Deerfoot hear aright? If so, what does his brother mean? Deerfoot is listening."
Thus appealed to, the Blackfoot was silent for a minute, as if gathering his thoughts. He looked up at the opening in the roof of the lodge, then into the fire, and, addressing the three, repeated the following myth or legend, which has been extant among the Blackfeet Indians from time immemorial:
"Many, many moons ago, long before the parents of our oldest men were born, a chieftain as great as Taggarak ruled the Blackfeet. His fame reached far to the north, to the east, to the south and to the west, beyond the Stony Mountains, to the shore of the great water, for there was none like him. In those far-away days the home of Wahla, chieftain of the Blackfeet, was to the south of this village, on the banks of the Two Rivers.
"Wahla had a daughter who was the most beauteous maiden that warrior ever looked upon. She was loving and dainty, and the idol of the stern old warrior, who would have cut off his right hand rather than have the slightest harm come to her. Never did father love daughter more than Chief Wahla loved Mita the Rose of the Forest.
"Wahla returned one day from a fierce battle with the Cheyennes. A great victory had been won, and the Blackfeet brought home a score of prisoners, that they might be tied to the stake and burned while their captives made merry over their sufferings. This was the custom of the Blackfeet, and they have not yet forgotten such amusements.
"Among the captives was a manly youth, who was proud and brave, and had slain three of the Blackfeet and wounded Wahla himself before they made him prisoner. He scorned to ask mercy, which would have been denied him, and, without a tremor of limb or a dimming of his bright eyes, awaited the cruel death that he knew had been prepared for him and his comrades.
"Wahla had to keep his captives for a week or more until word could be sent to the other villages, that they might come and feast upon the deaths of the Cheyennes. During that time, Mul-tal-la cannot tell how, the young Cheyenne warrior and Mita, daughter of the chieftain, met and learned to love each other. No one knew their secret, and so, while preparations were going on for the cruel deaths, she managed to loose his bonds, and one night the two fled for the home of the Cheyennes, there to become husband and wife.
"Wahla did not learn of the flight of his daughter and lover until the next morning, when he started in pursuit. He went alone, for his rage was so terrible that he was not willing anyone should share the sweetness of revenge with him. He traveled fast, and drew nigh enough to catch sight of the two on the second day following their flight. He did not carry his bow, but had his knife and tomahawk, while the youth possessed no weapon at all. Had a knife been his, he would not have used it against Wahla, because he was the father of the maiden whom he loved more than his life.
"When the two found they could not flee faster than the wrathful chieftain, they paused and waited for him to come up. Then Mita threw herself at the feet of her father and prayed him to spare the life of the Cheyenne. The chief spurned her and ran after the young warrior. The youth did not flee, but stood with folded arms, calmly awaiting him.
"'Slay me,' he said, 'but when I die Mita will die with me!'
"Heedless of the appeal, the furious chieftain plunged his knife into the breast of the youth, who sank to the earth and breathed out his life. Wahla turned to seize his daughter, but at that moment a wild shriek rent the air, and she died, clasping his knees and moaning that he had slain her as well as the Cheyenne.
"When Wahla saw what he had done, he started to hurry to his village, but his mind had gone from him. You were told that he had been wounded by the Cheyenne in battle. The wound was in the thigh of the chief, and it now broke out afresh, as if in punishment for the crime he had committed. It made him limp sorely, but he would not stop, and ran faster than ever. Because of his halt gait, he ran in a circle.
"Round and round he went all night, when he perished, but the Great Spirit kept him running throughout the days and weeks that followed until he became a shadow. His feet wore a circular path, which may be seen to-day, as Mul-tal-la has looked upon it many times and my brothers may do if they will journey a few days to the southward.
"But Mul-tal-la now tells the strangest part of this story. In the years that have passed since Wahla slew the Cheyenne lover, and his daughter died at his feet, the storms would have wiped away all signs of the path long ago. But it remains as distinct as ever. This is because the spirit of Wahla tramps it round and round all through the nights when the moon does not shine, for no one can see him running over the ground.
"When you look toward the slope of the mountain you can see the circle as plain as we see those sticks burning in the middle of the lodge, but when you reach the spot no sign of the path shows."
"How is that?" asked the wondering Victor.
"It is the belief that the spirit of Mita, the daughter, is always hovering over the spot, and that her heart forever grieves for her father and lover. When she sees anyone drawing near the place, she hurries from her home, which is near at hand, though no one knows exactly where, and, bending over the ground, hurries along and flirts a piece of her garment over the whole length of the path and blots it out, so that grass grows where a few minutes before was only the hard earth, packed by the moccasins of her father."
"What brings the path into sight again?" asked George Shelton.
"When night comes, Chief Wahla begins tramping around the circle once more. At sunrise the path is as it was before, and so remains unless some one starts forward to gain a closer look. The moment he does so the invisible spirit of Mita, daughter of Wahla, hurries out and destroys all the footprints, so that no one has ever been near enough to gain a close view of them, nor can he ever do so. Such is the legend of the Spirit Circle."1
CHAPTER XVI.
THE FIELD OF HONOR.
Deerfoot did not interrupt the Blackfoot while he was relating the legend of the Spirit Circle. He listened attentively. He had heard many such myths among his own people, and once they impressed him, but he had come to look upon them as idle tales not worth a thought. Instead of commenting upon the rude beauty of the story that had been told to his friend many years before, he asked the practical question:
"What has the Spirit Circle to do with Deerfoot and Taggarak?"
"It is the law among the Blackfeet that when our war chief Taggarak wills to punish some great criminal he sends him to the Spirit Circle, where he must walk around it without food or drink till he drops down and dies."
"Has anyone ever done that?" asked the Shawanoe.
"Yes; more than once. Not many moons ago a warrior killed his father, mother and child in a fit of rage. The only punishment that fitted such an awful crime was that of the Spirit Circle. Three warriors took the man there and started him round the path; they took turns in watching, and made sure that he had no food nor water, and was kept moving till he could move no longer. He fell down, and they stood near until he breathed his last; then they came back to Taggarak and told him what had been done."
"My brother has not yet shown what his words have to do with Deerfoot and Taggarak."
"Let my brother have patience and he shall know. Deerfoot remembers the rock from whose top he first caught sight of Mul-tal-la, whose brother was coming to this village, riding on Whirlwind?"
As he spoke the Blackfoot pointed to the east. Deerfoot nodded. The meeting place was a half mile beyond the open space on which the athletic contests had been held that day.
"It is the command of Taggarak that the Shawanoe shall meet him there to-morrow, when the sun climbs the mountain tops. He must bring only his hunting knife and come alone; the chief will do the same. When they face each other, Taggarak will give the Shawanoe the choice of dying by his hand or at the Spirit Circle."
"Did Taggarak saythatto my brother?"
"That is his command. He has heard that the Shawanoe is making squaws of his warriors; he therefore gives him his choice of deaths."
Victor Shelton sprang to his feet.
"See here, Mul-tal-la," he said, excitedly; "do you tell us that the chief Taggarak makes the condition that he and Deerfoot are each to use only his knife as a weapon?"
The Blackfoot gravely nodded his head.
"And that neither is to have a friend with him?"
"So Taggarak wills."
"That isn't the way people fight duels. George and I must be on hand when Deerfoot gets into a scrape like that."
"But it cannot be."
"My brothers will stay here till Deerfoot comes back to them," quietly remarked the Shawanoe.
"But how are we to know that Taggarak won't play some trick on us? He may have half a dozen of his warriors hiding among the bushes or rocks, so as to help him kill Deerfoot."
For the first time in the interview Mul-tal-la smiled.
"Taggarak never breaks his word. He might do as my brothers say if he thought there was need of it. He doesn't believe the Shawanoe will be more than a child in his hands when the two stand in front of each other."
"He might have thought that yesterday, or at any time before the games to-day, but after he saw Deerfoot perform he must have some doubt."
"Deerfoot did not fight. Taggarak knows naught of his skill in doing that, even though he has been told he killed a grizzly bear in a fair struggle. He would feel ashamed if he asked for any help against the Shawanoe."
Deerfoot calmly rose to his feet. Those who looked up at him noted a peculiar flash of his dark eyes that was not often seen, and, when seen, told of the hidden fires he was holding in subjection. He raised his hand for silence.
"Let Deerfoot speak. He knows where the rock is that Taggarak says shall be the meeting place between him and me. His command shall be obeyed. Deerfoot will be there, with only his knife to defend himself. He has said he does not fear the Blackfoot chieftain. Let my brothers speak of something else."
The boys and even Mul-tal-la were so full of the theme that it was hard for them to talk or think of anything beside. They would have questioned the Shawanoe as to his plans and intentions, but he would not permit. The hour was growing late, and the Blackfoot remained but a short time, when he bade all good-night and passed out of the tepee.
Respecting the mood of Deerfoot, neither Victor nor George made any further reference to the momentous morrow. They disrobed and stretched out on their soft couches, while the Shawanoe, taking his Bible from the bosom of his hunting shirt, reclined on one elbow—his favorite attitude at such times—so that the light fell on the printed page. He read in his low, musical voice until, suspecting the truth, he paused and looked across at the brothers. Both were asleep. He smiled, read awhile longer to himself and then joined them in the land of dreams, sinking into slumber as quickly as they, and within the ten minutes following his own prayer.
The morning dawned dull, chilly and clouded, with threats of snow in the air. The Shawanoe was the first to awake, and busied himself in his usual noiseless fashion with renewing the fire and preparing the morning meal from the antelope meat, of which enough was on hand to last for several meals. The salt and pepper brought by the boys from home had been used up long before, and they had accustomed themselves to get on without the condiments which seem so much of a necessity with us.
The breakfast was eaten with the usual deliberation, none of the three speaking of the event that was impending, though the brothers were full of it. When Deerfoot arose, drew his knife from his girdle, carefully inspected it and then shoved it back in place and glanced across the room to where his rifle was leaning in one corner, Victor could keep silence no longer.
"You know what faith we have in you, Deerfoot, but we are anxious, and shall be in distress until we see you back again."
"Why are my brothers troubled?" calmly asked the Shawanoe.
"We can't help believing Taggarak will use treachery, for he must know he isn't certain to win when he attacks you."
"Nothing can make him believe the truth till it comes to him. He will take no warriors with him. Deerfoot is in no danger. Let my brothers smile and be glad."
"I wish I could grin, but it's too hard work," was the doleful response of Victor, the face of his brother showing that he felt the same.
Deerfoot warmly shook hands with each in turn, such being his usual custom, stooped and drew the flap aside and passed from sight. Enough of the Blackfeet were astir to notice him moving at a moderate pace past the lodges toward the clearing at the rear of the village. He greeted all in their own language, and did not show by anything in his manner that he had any important matter in hand. He stealthily glanced here and there, on the lookout for Taggarak, but saw nothing of him. Perhaps the chief had already gone to the scene of the hostile meeting; perhaps he had not yet set out, for the hour was early, or, what was more likely, he had taken another route. Of one thing Deerfoot was certain: the chief had told no one of what was coming, except Mul-tal-la, who bore the message to the youth. When the two combatants should meet, no human eye must witness the terrific combat.
The sagacious Shawanoe had decided to follow a certain line that may impress you as singular for him to adopt. It seemed like undue confidence when he declared that he had no fear of the man who was certainly the most fearful fighter of the whole Blackfoot tribe. Modest as he was by nature, Deerfoot was too intelligent not to understand his decisive superiority, as compared with any of his own or of the white race. That superiority had been proved too often to leave any doubt in his mind. Moreover, with his youth and high health, he was aware that these remarkable powers were not declining, but rather increasing, and ought to increase for a dozen or more years to come.
The American Indian, as a rule, does not show excessive muscular development. Arms and legs are wanting in those ridged bunches of sinew which often bulge out all over our athletes. And yet more than one red man has displayed prodigious strength. Deerfoot believed he was stronger than Taggarak, despite his own light, graceful figure, which made him a dusky Adonis.
He knew that possibly he was mistaken in this respect, but there could be no doubt on another point: he was much quicker of movement than the iron-limbed Taggarak. The open space would give full freedom to both, and this quickness would not be hampered at all during the fight between them. Moreover, Deerfoot was an unerring judge of distance, and knew on the instant when to dodge and when to strike. Therefore he feared not, but with that old Adamic strain in his nature, really yearned for the battle.
It has long been the custom of Indians, when facing each other in mortal strife, to resort to taunts and insults. If a foe can be driven into anger, while his tormentor keeps cool, the latter has the victory half won. Deerfoot could not stifle a feeling of resentment over the contemptuous behavior of Taggarak toward him. Instead of contenting himself with merely challenging the Shawanoe to mortal combat, he sent him word that all that was left for him to do was to choose between two methods of shuffling off the mortal coil. It was to be the Spirit Circle or by the knife of the Blackfoot. This scornful treatment of the youth angered him, and it was one of the reasons why he decided to adopt a policy which in other circumstances he would have considered beneath a true warrior.