CHAPTER XVII.
A MEMORABLE DUEL.
Deerfoot the Shawanoe, before entering the elevated wooded portion to the east of the bleak plain that had been the scene of his triumphs the day before, paused and carefully scrutinized all that lay within his field of vision. He was not altogether free from a shadowy suspicion that Taggarak would resort to treachery, though for reasons named by Mul-tal-la it was improbable. Despite the care the youth had used, he feared that rumors of the coming fight had got abroad, and some of the curious might brave the wrath of their chief for the sake of viewing the combat. That which Deerfoot saw, or rather failed to see, convinced him that both fears were unfounded.
He recalled too clearly the spot named by the Blackfoot to make any mistake, and he went directly to it. A few rods beyond the rocks where Mul-tal-la and Deerfoot had caught sight of each other after their long separation was a comparatively clear and level space that covered a fourth of an acre or less. A glance showed it to be an ideal spot for a meeting such as was at hand.
Deerfoot looked hastily around for Taggarak. He was not in sight. In truth, the Shawanoe was considerably ahead of time, and the chief was not a moment late when, after awhile, he strode into view from the other side of the arena.
This famous chieftain has already been described. No one could look upon him without a certain admiration, and it was easy to believe the many stories of his prowess. He was spare of frame, nearly six feet tall, and his mien and manner showed perfect fearlessness. He wore no head dress, his abundant hair, in which there was not the first streaking of gray, falling loosely over his shoulders, almost to his waist. The upper part of his body was encased in a shirt of deerskin, and the buckskin breeches were fringed down the legs. Deerfoot noticed that he had on a new pair of moccasins, stained several bright colors. He must have thought the occasion warranted something in the nature of display. There was no skirt to the jacket-like garment, the thighs being inclosed with the buckskin which formed the leggings, after the manner of the modern style of trousers. The handle of his knife—the weapon that many a time had done frightful work—could be seen protruding from the girdle that encircled his waist.
With a dignified step the chief strode forward until within a dozen paces of Deerfoot, when he paused and scowled at him.
Following his policy of tantalism, Deerfoot made a mock bow and said:
"Blackfoot, the Shawanoe is glad to see you come at last. But why does the Blackfoot tremble when he finds himself in front of a warrior instead of a squaw who knows not how to fight?"
The chief had never been addressed in this audacious fashion, and his eyes seemed to scintillate from under his scowling brows. Could it be he heard aright?
"When the Shawanoe learned that the Blackfoot who calls himself chief and pretends to be a brave man wished to meet him in fight by this rock, the heart of the Shawanoe was glad and he hurried to come; but the Blackfoot is backward. He hoped the Shawanoe would not come, but he is here and eager to fight him."
And to show the truth of his words, Deerfoot drew his knife from his girdle and grasped it in his good left hand.
Taggarak now found his voice. There was a tremulousness in the words, but it was due to his tumultuous wrath and not to fear.
"Dog of a Shawanoe! Do you choose to die by the hand of Taggarak, or shall he send you to the Spirit Circle? Let him choose!"
"Squaw of a Blackfoot! It shall beneither. The Shawanoe cares naught for the Spirit Circle, and will not go there. He has no fear of the Blackfoot who knows how to fight women but trembles when he stands before the Shawanoe! Has the Blackfoot brought some of his warriors to save him from the anger of the Shawanoe?"
And Deerfoot glanced around, as if looking for the help which he knew was not near. He did not see it, but he saw something else, which caused him almost as much displeasure. As he turned toward a large boulder, half hidden by bushes, the upper part of a head dropped down out of sight. Seen only for an instant, the Shawanoe recognized the owner as Victor Shelton, and knew his brother was with him. Despite Deerfoot's orders the boys had managed to steal their way from place to place and were spectators of this meeting. It was too late now to correct the wrong, and he acted as if he knew it not. All the same, he resolved to "discipline" the youths for disregarding his orders.
A Memorable Duel.A Memorable Duel.
In this game of abuse the chief was no match for the Shawanoe, who saw that the tempestuous rage of Taggarak threatened to master him. Accustomed throughout his life to be feared and obeyed, it was unbearable thus to be flouted to his face by a stripling, whom he felt able to crush like a bird's egg. He drew his knife, whose blade was several inches longer than the weapon of the Shawanoe.
With the weapon clinched as if in a vise, the chief thrust his left foot forward for a single pace, but did not advance farther. He was debating with himself how best to dispose of this intolerable youth. A quick death would be too merciful; he would first wound and then prolong his suffering for an hour or more.
"The trembling Blackfoot fears to come to the Shawanoe, so the Shawanoe will go to him."
These words were accompanied with an exquisite sneer, and Deerfoot advanced three paces, taking care to stop before he was within reach of the enraged chief.
"Does the Shawanoe think the God he worships can save him from the vengeance of Taggarak, who spurns that God?"
The reply was a noble one. Dropping his insulting tones and manner, Deerfoot said:
"The Shawanoe knows not whether the God he worships will save him; he never cares nor thinks ofthat. He knows that whatever his Father chooses to dois right, and if He does not wish to take care of the Shawanoe, itis right. He will go to heaven, the abode of those who obey God, when he is called. He will be ready, whether he hears that call in the gloom of the woods at midnight or on the plain when the sun is high in the sky.
"The Blackfoot worships false gods. Let him learn whether they will help him when he stands in front of the Shawanoe."
The self-confidence of the chief was absolute. Wearied of listening to the taunts of the dusky Apollo, he strode toward him, raising his right hand as he did so, feinted once and then brought down the weapon with a vicious vigor that was meant to bury the point in the shoulder of Deerfoot.
The blade, however, swished through air, and the youth smote the chief squarely in the mouth with the back of his fist. He could have used his knife, but he chose to play awhile with this boaster. He delivered his blow so quickly that the Blackfoot, accustomed as he was to fierce hand-to-hand fighting, had no time to dodge or parry, and the next instant the Shawanoe was ten feet away, weapon still grasped, and grinning at the slightly dazed chief.
"Why does not the Blackfoot squaw strike the Shawanoe? The Shawanoe has struckhim. Cannot the Blackfoot see where to strike with his knife? He is as slow as an aged woman, but he fears the Shawanoe, who is his master."
Taggarak could not believe his failure was anything more than one of those accidents to which the most skilful fighter is sometimes liable. His weapon was still firm in his hand, and he moved forward again, taking shorter and more stealthy steps. He crouched as if gathering his muscles for a leap, while the Shawanoe contemptuously watched him, alert and observant as a cat.
Six feet away the chief halted. Deerfoot did not stir. Taggarak had learned of the lightning-like quickness of the youth, but felt none the less certain of speedily overcoming him.
For a full minute the two glared at each other, neither speaking, but the same aggravating, scornful smile was on the face of the young Shawanoe. Suddenly he did an astounding thing. He tossed his knife several feet up in the air, caught it by the handle as it came down and then flung it a couple of rods to one side.
"The Shawanoe needs no weapon to conquer the Blackfoot squaw!"
Then Deerfoot voluntarily placed himself in front of the furious warrior, without any weapon with which to defend himself. Not only that, he folded his arms over his breast and with biting irony added:
"Now let the Blackfoot think he has a squaw in front of him; then he will strike hard, if his hand does not tremble."
It was more than flesh and blood could stand. The passion within the breast of the chief broke into a volcano-like flame. With a hissing gasp he sprang forward, striking swiftly with his knife, first downward, then upward and then from side to side, as if he meant to cut the execrated youth into ribbons. He repeated the wild blows with a celerity that almost prevented the eye from following the movements.
But, as before, he split only vacancy. Deerfoot easily eluded the strokes, which were blinder than usual, for Taggarak was beside himself with passion. In the midst of his aimless outburst the Shawanoe did another thing which was worthy of a skilled pugilist. Waiting for an opening, he shot his left hand forward, and, with the open palm, landed a stunning blow on the bridge of the chief's nose. The advantage of such a blow is that, when rightly delivered, tears are forced into the eyes of the one receiving it, who, for a minute or two, is partially blinded. You can understand his fatal position. He cannot pause to clear his vision, for it comes at the crisis of the fight, and an instant halting means ignominious defeat, while to persevere, when he has only the partial use of his sight, makes his disadvantage hardly the less.
While the chief was savagely blinking, in order to enable him to see, the crowning taunt of all sounded in his ears:
"The Blackfoot cries like a pappoose. Does he wish to tread the Spirit Circle? Does he beg the Shawanoe to be merciful to him? If he whines for pity, let him sink on his knees and the Shawanoe will listen to his crying."
Chief Taggarak now lost the last shred of self-control. With a growl of crazy rage he bounded forward again, striking up and down and right and left with a blind, venomous energy that would have exhausted a giant.
Suddenly the wrist which held the whistling blade was seized in the steel-like fingers of Deerfoot's left hand. The grip was fearful, for the Shawanoe had now called upon his last reserve of strength, and the wrist was as if encased in a coil of iron. Then, with a peculiar twist of his hand, known only to himself, and resembling that remarkable system known under the name of jiu jitsu among the Japanese, who are the only ones that understand it in all its frightful perfection, he bent the hand of the chief remorselessly over and backward, until the palm gaped like the mouth of a dying fish and the knife dropped to the ground.
Deerfoot now had both wrists imprisoned. Taggarak gasped and panted and writhed, but could not twist himself loose. In the trial of strength the Shawanoe proved himself the superior. Great drops gathered on the forehead of the Blackfoot. His grin displayed every molar in his head, and the mouth, stretched to double its usual extent, had that horrible appearance when the space between the lips at the corners is the same as in front and the expression is that of a raging wild beast.
Thus the two stood, their arms sawing up and down and from one side to another, without the Blackfoot being able to loosen the merciless grip. He was panting, but no one could have detected any quickening of the respiration of the Shawanoe. His mouth was set and the light of battle flashed in his eyes. He did not speak or yield a point. The crisis had come and he knew he was the victor, just as he knew he would be from the first.
The Blackfoot swayed and his moccasins slid here and there over the ground from the contortion of limbs and body. Then he began pushing with might and main. His eyes were beginning to clear, but the perspiration dripped from the twisted coppery features. Reading his purpose, Deerfoot began pushing also. Neither yielded for a minute or two, and then the chief was slowly forced backward. There was no withstanding the tremendous power of the youth, who strove to the last ounce of his matchless strength.
Taggarak recoiled a step, then another, then began walking backward, and the next minute the walk became a trot on the part of both, the chief retreating and the Shawanoe forcing him faster and faster, though he struggled and resisted with the same panting desperation as at first.
He was still trotting backward with short, increasing steps when Deerfoot, never relaxing his grasp on the writhing wrists, thrust one heel behind his enemy, who tripped and went over. To insure due emphasis in the fall, Deerfoot made a leap as he was going and landed with both knees on the breast of the Blackfoot, who dropped with a thump that forced a gasp from his body and literally shook the earth.
George and Victor Shelton, in their excitement, sprang up from behind the rock that hid them. When Taggarak went over on his back, with Deerfoot bearing him down, Victor could restrain himself no longer. Snatching his cap from his head he swung it aloft, and had opened his mouth to cheer when the slightly less excited brother clapped his hand over his lips.
"What do you mean, you idiot?"
"I want to cheer for Deerfoot! If I don't I'll bust!"
"You will get all the busting you want from him if he finds out we came here, after he told us to stay at home."
"By gracious! That's so; I forgot it. I'm glad you stopped me; we must keep mum. Look!"
CHAPTER XVIII.
DISCIPLINE IN THE RANKS.
The force of the impact and the crushing weight of the Shawanoe's body knocked Taggarak senseless for the moment. He lay panting, with eyes half closed and his countenance glistening with moisture.
Deerfoot, without removing his knees, watched the eyes until they slowly opened and glared upward with a dazed expression. The youth had removed his fingers from the wrist of the chief. He now bent his face close to his and asked:
"Who now is master—the Blackfoot or the Shawanoe? Whose God is the greater—Taggarak's or Deerfoot's?"
But the chieftain was game. He had put up a hurricane fight and had been conquered—conquered by a youth who carried no weapon in his hand, and who could have driven out his life at any moment during the progress of the battle. Instead of slaying his victim, the Shawanoe had put one indignity after another upon him.
"Let the Shawanoe take his knife and kill Taggarak! He does not wish to live!"
"So Taggarak would do with the Shawanoe, but so does not the Shawanoe, for he is a Christian," replied Deerfoot, rising from the prostrate body and stepping back for a couple of paces.
The Blackfoot was still bewildered. He lay motionless for a few seconds, staring at the youth looking serenely down upon him. The chief had been conquered, absolutely, crushingly and to the last degree humiliatingly; for, most amazing thing of all, his conqueror had refused to take his life, knowing that it would have been the other way had the Shawanoe suffered defeat.
And he who showed this unheard-of mercy professed to be a Christian! What a strange religion to make a warrior act in that manner!
Slowly the iron-limbed chieftain climbed to his feet. He was not looking at the Shawanoe, who had folded his arms and was calmly watching him. Taggarak stood upright, turned his face away, took three steps and then paused. His head flirted about like a bird's and he fixed his burning eyes upon the dusky youth, still posed like a statue, with arms folded and on the alert for any treachery.
The Blackfoot gazed steadily into the eyes that met his own without flinching. He did not speak, but, looking away again, strode solemnly across the open space, not pausing to pick up his weapon, and disappeared in the rocky wood.
Deerfoot remained motionless for several moments, gazing at the point where the other had passed from sight. Then he reverently turned his eyes upward and murmured:
"I thank Thee, my Heavenly Father. Thou art kinder to Deerfoot than he deserves."
His next act was most peculiar. He paid no heed to the knife of Taggarak, but picked up his own. It had a keen edge, and instead of thrusting the weapon into his girdle he walked to the nearest undergrowth and began cutting a stick several feet in length and of nearly an inch's thickness at the butt.
About this time George and Victor Shelton, from their hiding place, where they had stealthily watched everything, began to feel disturbed in mind.
"What do you suppose he is doing that for?" whispered Victor, peeping around the corner of the rock.
"I'm blessed if I know. He is trimming off the twigs, so as to make the stick smooth."
"Do you suppose he saw us?"
"He couldn't. He has mighty sharp eyes, but he had no chance to look anywhere except in the face of Taggarak, and we haven't shown ourselves since he left."
"It's a queer performance anyway, and I don't feel—"
"Sh! He's looking this way."
The next moment both boys shivered, for, facing the rock which until then they were certain had hid them from view, the Shawanoe called:
"Let my brothers come here. Deerfoot wishes to speak to them."
"He saw us after all!" gasped Victor. "Let's run!"
"What good will that do? There's no getting away from him."
"He looks savage, George; he means business. Can't we combine and lick him if he tries to play smart with us?"
"If we could get Mul-tal-la and three or four other Blackfeet we might have a show; but it would take more than you and me to down him. Come, it won't do to wait any longer."
The brothers were pretty well convinced of what was coming and were scared. To Victor only one possible escape presented itself—that was to conciliate the Shawanoe. The lad made a brave attempt to do so.
Coming out from behind the rock, he strode rapidly down the gentle slope, as if he had just recognized the youth. Victor's face was aglow, and he certainly meant all he said:
"I tell you, Deerfoot, that was the greatest victory you ever won! I don't believe the man ever lived that downed Taggarak, and yet you did it without any weapon. People won't believe the story, but you can refer them to us. Ain't it lucky, now, that we happened to be where we could see you lay out that boasting chief?"
George caught at the straw thus held out by his brother.
"I tell you that's so, Deerfoot. The news of this fight is bound to get out sooner or later. Some who don't know you won't believe anything of the kind, till we tell them we saw the whole business and it was just as you say. Ain't you glad, Deerfoot, we happened by chance to be where we could see it all?"
The Shawanoe had thrust his knife into his girdle and held the switch firmly by its larger end. He looked gravely into the face of each lad while he was speaking. When they ceased he had something to say:
"When Deerfoot and his brothers left Woodvale was it not said that the Shawanoe should rule and guide them?"
"There can't be any question ofthat," Victor promptly replied.
"And my brothers promised to obey him in all things?"
"It seems to me I remember something of that kind."
"Has Deerfoot been a hard master?"
"We couldn't have had a kinder one. I tell you, Deerfoot, you know more in five minutes than George and I know in a month, or ever will know. We couldn't get along without you. We have been pretty obedient, as a rule, haven't we?"
"Was not the agreement between Taggarak and Deerfoot that no person should look upon the fight between them?"
"Yes; but I don't believe Taggarak kept his promise."
Deerfoot flashed a look of inquiry at Victor.
"What does my brother mean by his words? Did he see any other Blackfoot near?"
"Well, not exactly; but there were marks in the bushes which looked as if made by moccasins. I shouldn't wonder if some were hiding there and ran away when they saw us coming and knew we meant to see you had fair play."
The appeal was wasted. Deerfoot took his station between the brothers, moving them apart so they were separated by a space of five or six feet. He then deliberately, vigorously and impartially laid the switch over the shoulders of George and Victor. You would not suspect the vim with which this disciplining was carried out. Only the brothers themselves could testify feelingly as to that.
And the boys had to "grin and bear it," for there was no escape for them. It was useless to run, and had they tried it they would have been punished more severely. They were too proud to complain. The quicker-tempered Victor wanted to revolt and attack the Shawanoe, but he knew George would not join him, for such rebellion would have been disastrous to them. They had tested the ability of Deerfoot in that line too often to doubt his superiority. Had the shadow of a doubt lingered, the scene they had witnessed a few minutes before would have dispelled it.
The rod descended first upon the shoulders of Victor, then upon those of George, and there was no difference in the force of the blows. Oh, how they stung! Each boy wanted to scratch the smarting parts, but grimly stood it out. Finally Victor ventured to say:
"When you are tired, Deerfoot, you have our permission to stop."
"Tired! He won't get tired in a week. Our only hope is that he will use up all the switches in the country."
And the Shawanoe kept at it till the rod broke in the middle and only the stump was left in his hand. He flung that aside, and, without speaking, turned and walked toward the village. As soon as his face was turned the boys devoted their efforts to rubbing and scratching their arms, shoulders and backs.
"How many times do you think he struck us?" ruefully asked George.
"I guess about four thousand; but I forgot to count."
"He started in with you and ended with me, so we both got the same. Gracious alive, but he knows his business!"
"Anyhow, what we saw was worth all we had to pay. I didn't think he would do anything of the kind, did you?"
"No; I thought we might keep our visit a secret, but not many things escape his eye. I suppose after all he was right."
"Wait till these smarts let up a little before you ask me to say that," replied Victor, still rubbing and fidgeting about. "Can't you think of some way of getting even with him?"
"I wish I could, but the worst thing anyone can do is to tackle Deerfoot. We must try to believe we were lucky in getting off as lightly as we did."
"Lightly!" sniffed Victor. "I should like to know what you callheavyif that is light."
"And he is still mad at us. He went off without speaking, and it may be days before he gets over his anger."
Bye and bye the smarts so subsided that the boys felt comparatively comfortable. As they picked their way homeward their resentment cooled, and they were able to see things in their proper light. They profoundly loved and admired the young Shawanoe, and required no one to remind them of his affection for them. The punishment he had administered was like that of a father to a wayward child. Moreover, it was well deserved, and they were willing to confess the fact before they reached their tepee.
"There's no getting out of it," said the more impulsive Victor. "He forbade us to follow him, and it was breaking the agreement between him and Taggarak. The only thing for us to do when we meet him again is to say we are sorry and ask his forgiveness. I'm ready to do so. Are you, George?"
"Why didn't we try that on him before he gave us the whipping?"
"It wouldn't have worked. When I saw him cutting and trimming that switch I knew what was coming, and there was no way for us to dodge it."
"It seems pretty hard, after a fellow has had his life almost whaled out of him, to say he is sorry. It seems to me it's the other chap who ought to feel sorry."
"No, we were in the wrong and must apologize. You know how tender-hearted Deerfoot is. I believe he felt pity for Taggarak, even though he knew the chief meant to kill him. The Blackfoot isn't the first enemy Deerfoot has had at his mercy and then spared him."
When the boys reached their lodge, after meeting and greeting a number of their dusky friends, they were disappointed not to find Deerfoot there. He did not come in until late in the afternoon. He raised the robe at the door, glanced at the brothers, but kept his lips closed. Victor walked up to him without a moment's hesitation and extended his hand:
"Deerfoot, you served us right. We are both sorry. Will you forgive us?"
The two saw the moisture creep into the handsome dark eyes and noted the tremor of the Shawanoe's voice as he took each hand in turn and said:
"Yes, Deerfoot forgives you. We are brothers again."
CHAPTER XIX.
"BEHOLD HE PRAYETH."
Mul-tal-la the Blackfoot obeyed the command of Taggarak, his chief. But though he kept away from the meeting place of the duelists, he hovered not far off, in order to learn at the earliest possible moment the result of the most important personal encounter that had ever taken place in the history of the Blackfoot nation. Because of the circuitous course taken by George and Victor Shelton, Mul-tal-la saw nothing of them and never learned of the humorous appendix to the tragedy.
The sight of the Shawanoe returning told who was victor, and a few brief words between the two, as they met, made known that he had spared the life of the chief, who slunk silently off in the solitude, no one but himself knew whither. It was this flight that was on the mind of Deerfoot and Mul-tal-la, for each felt that momentous consequences were to flow therefrom.
The four friends were once more gathered in the home of the guests of the Blackfoot tribe. Each knew a crisis was at hand that might compel them, on the edge of the severe northern winter, to depart for other quarters, and the flight, perhaps, would become impossible because of the ferocious rage of the humiliated chieftain.
The Shelton brothers acted the part of listeners, sensibly feeling that they could contribute nothing to the discussion between Mul-tal-la and Deerfoot; but no speakers could have asked for more deeply interested auditors than they.
"Taggarak has not come back," said the Blackfoot. "Mul-tal-la stopped at his lodge, and his squaw said she had seen naught of him since this morning."
"She does not know what took place?" was the inquiring remark of Deerfoot.
"She could not, for he kept his word and told no one before, and," grimly added the Blackfoot, "he would not tell anyone afterward."
"What does she think?"
"That he has gone to one of the other villages. Taggarak is a silent man, and he sometimes departs in the middle of the night, without saying a word to anyone. He may be gone for weeks, and no one here will know anything of it until he returns."
"What does Mul-tal-la think?"
"He knows not what to think. If Taggarak is not here to-morrow, then he will believe the chief is visiting his other warriors."
"Does he not summon his other chiefs to come to him?"
"Often; they meet at the Big Lodge. They talk together, when they are making ready to go on raids among other tribes, and Taggarak gives them his commands; but he likes to appear in their villages when they do not look for his coming. What does my brother believe the chief will do when he comes back?"
The Shawanoe waited for a minute or two before replying:
"There is a mist in the eyes of Deerfoot and he cannot see clearly. Taggarak is brave but cruel. He will not rest under his overthrow. Deerfoot thinks they will have to fight again."
"And will Deerfoot spare him once more?"
"He cannot answer. He will do as God tells him to do."
Victor Shelton felt that this was a good time for him to add to the discussion.
"Mul-tal-la, do you think it is possible Taggarak wants to fight Deerfoot, after he has been beaten by him? Why should he want to try it again?"
"Because he has hope of winning the fight."
"He can't have any such hope. Why, Deerfoot whipped him without a weapon in his hand, while Taggarak had his big, ugly knife most of the time."
Mul-tal-la had not heard anything of this, and he looked inquiringly at Deerfoot and then at the boy who had made the amazing statement. Victor flushed and stammeringly added:
"That is—it would have been easy for Deerfoot to whip him without any weapon and with one hand tied behind his back—that is, it looks so to me and George—and I'm sure he could do it if he wished—confound it, Deerfoot,didn'tyou whip him as I said?"
The visitor turned to the Shawanoe, who gravely nodded his head.
"Deerfoot has told me things from the good book which he carries with him, and he said there was One who used to do some things so strange that they were called miracles."
"Yes, He did many of them."
"Then Deerfoot did a miracle if he overthrew Taggarak without the help of any weapon."
"No," modestly replied the Shawanoe, "there was no miracle. It was easier to defeat him without a weapon than with one. Deerfoot wrenched the knife from his hand and then threw him to the ground; that was all."
"That was all!" repeated the Blackfoot, as if to himself. Then he looked at the boys and the three laughed.
"Yes, that was all. George or I could have done the same, but we thought it better to turn the job over to Deerfoot. He's fond of doing such trifles," said Victor, airily.
The result of the conference was the decision that naught could be done except to await the issue of events. All feared the worst, and strove to prepare for it. The belief was that the rage in the breast of Chief Taggarak would lead him to merciless measures, not only against his visitors, but against all of his own people who had showed an inclination to embrace the new religion.
Three days passed and nothing was heard of the chief. He was still absent, and the general belief of his people that he was among the other villages averted misgiving. Only those in the secret were in dread. But the seed planted by Deerfoot began to bear fruit. Inquiries came to him, and the excitement over the religion he brought, even though subdued, spread among the warriors and women of the tribe. Finally Mul-tal-la came to him with the surprising request that he would address the Indians in the Big Lodge on the all-important subject. In making the request, Mul-tal-la the Blackfoot spoke for others. Without hesitation the Shawanoe replied that he would do as desired. He felt it was his duty, and he was the last one to shrink.
Near the middle of the primitive settlement was a structure known as the "Big Lodge." It was of the simplest build, being some forty feet in length by about half that width. It consisted of upright poles at the corners, with other supports along the sides, and a roof of boughs similar to that of the royal lodge. All the sides were open; there were no seats and no provisions for fire. Consequently the temperature was always the same as that outdoors.
It was the custom of the Blackfeet to hold their councils in this place, Taggarak being fond of summoning his chiefs and leading warriors thither, while they smoked their pipes and settled questions of state. Most of the time the barren structure was deserted.
On a bleak afternoon late in autumn, when a few inches of snow lay on the ground and the wind moaned among the leafless branches, Deerfoot the Shawanoe and the Shelton brothers wended their way to the Big Lodge. The boys paused at the edge of the assemblage and silently took their place among the listeners. They, as well as their friend, were astonished to see the crowd that had gathered. Warriors and women, with here and there a child, were seated everywhere on the bare ground, till it was hard to find room for another person. No one could fail to be impressed by the air of solemnity that shadowed each dusky face. Nearly every male and female sat with a shawl wrapped around the shoulders, for the air was biting, and no one had any protection from it except clothing. Victor whispered to his brother:
"I never expected to see anything like this. Who would have thought that the few words Deerfoot has spoken about our religion could have stirred up such deep feeling?"
An Indian scorns to betray curiosity or excitement, and only a few of the warriors and squaws looked up as the young Shawanoe picked his way through and among the multitude, who numbered several hundred, to the farther end of the space, where he turned to face the expectant listeners. He had left his rifle at the tepee, but his knife was in his girdle. To those who had slight knowledge of him he looked his simple, natural self; but George and Victor, when they scanned their friend observed a deeper flush in his face and a brighter gleam in the eyes, which revealed to them the profound emotion that stirred his soul.
Deerfoot stood for a minute, looking over the swarthy faces turned expectantly toward him. He had prayed many times for strength to meet this ordeal, and he knew he would do so.
Then he began speaking in his low, musical voice, which was clearly heard by those farthest removed. He used the Blackfoot tongue, so that only a part of his words were understood by George and Victor, and never halted or hesitated until the interruption came.
"My friends," said he, "the heart of Deerfoot is glad to tell you about the Great Spirit who is the Father of the red men as well as of the palefaces. Many, many moons ago that Father made this world; the sun that shines by day and the moon and stars that rule at night; the mountains, the woods, the rivers, the prairies, the rocks, the clouds and all that you see about you. He gave His children game to hunt, and He caused the fish to grow in the streams and the corn and fruit to spring from the ground. There was nothing that His children needed that He did not give to them.
"Was not that Father kind? Could any father be as good to his children as God was to those He put on the earth to live together? Should not those children love Him and try to live as He wished them to live? But they were wicked and did not care for Him. They fought and killed one another and did all they could to offend their Heavenly Father. They were so bad that bye and bye He turned away His face in anger. He would have slain them as they deserved, but He had a Son, good and pure like Himself. This Son took the load of all the sins of the world on his heart. He came to the earth and told the people how sad God was because they did evil. Some heeded His words, but bad men took the Son, whom we call our Saviour, because He saved us all—you and me and everybody—and they drove nails through his hands and feet, and let Him hang on two crosspieces of wood till He died the most painful of deaths. He could have killed those who treated Him so cruelly, but He chose to die so that the way would be opened for all men and women and children to come to God, who was angry no longer, because the Son had taken their place and suffered in their stead.
"The Great Spirit, whom we call God or our Heavenly Father, has made the path so straight and so free from briars that the smallest child can walk therein without harm. He wants you to become Christians and to believe in Him. A Christian is one who does all he can to make others happy. You must not go to war, and only fight when others attack you or those whom you love. You must be merciful and forgiving. Never cause anyone to suffer. Give food to the hungry, help those who have fallen to climb to their feet, take them by the hand and lead them if they are weak. Think all the time of new ways of making other persons smile. You must pray to God every morning and night and, when you have the chance, through the day. If you do this, a sweet peace, such as you have never known before, will come into your heart. You will not care for pain or hunger or thirst or suffering, for the happiness of pleasing your Heavenly Father will make you forget all these. When you die He will carry you to those blessed hunting grounds, where you shall meet all the friends who have gone on before and where you and they shall be happy forevermore."
During the utterance of this simple plea the Big Lodge was as still as the tomb. It is safe to believe that not a man or woman present failed to be impressed, for every person, savage or civilized, pagan or Christian, is profoundly interested in the most transcendant theme that can engage the human mind—the saving of man's soul and the preparation for the life to come. None other can compare with it. It is the one supreme question of the ages.
Those who looked at Deerfoot thought he had finished his address, but it was not so. George and Victor Shelton were the first to understand from his manner that something outside of the lodge had checked him. He was looking beyond the boys at some object that had made him cease speaking. The boys turned their heads to learn the meaning of the interruption. As they did so they heard some one approaching with a rapid step.
It was Taggarak, the chief, his face aflame, his stride long and rapid and his intense gaze centered on the young Shawanoe. Paying no heed to those in his way, he brushed past, overturning several and plowed straight through the crowd toward Deerfoot, who calmly awaited his coming.
Every eye was fixed upon the terrible chieftain, and hardly one of his people doubted that he meant to assail the Shawanoe. The hearts of George and Victor Shelton stood still, for they felt that a tragedy was about to open.
Instead of drawing his knife, Deerfoot placed both hands behind his back, after the idle manner of one who feels little interest in what is going on before him.
Within a couple of paces of Deerfoot, Taggarak wheeled around, and, in a voice of thunder addressed his people:
"The Shawanoe speaks with a single tongue! His words are true! The Great Spirit he tells you about is the true and only Great Spirit! Taggarak did not think so; he scorned him, but his eyes have been opened and he now sees. He has been wandering in the woods for days and nights, trying to flee from the anger of that Great Spirit. His eyes were filled with tears; he lay on his face and cried to Him; he did not eat nor drink nor sleep; but the Great Spirit, the true Great Spirit, spoke loving words to Taggarak. He raised him to his feet; He showed him that all the briars had been taken from his path. Taggarak looked around and all the darkness was gone and the sun was shining in the sky. The Great Spirit was pleased. He told Taggarak he was now His son and all shall be well with him.
"Heed the words of the Shawanoe, for they are true. Taggarak is a Christian and wishes all the Blackfeet to become Christians."
CHAPTER XX.
LIGHT IN DARKNESS.
It must not be thought that the large assemblage which had gathered in the Big Lodge were of one mind, or even that a majority were ready to accept the new religion that was explained to them by its model exemplar, Deerfoot the Shawanoe. A few yearned for the light, and had already learned enough of the elemental truths to be drawn toward them; but the majority were attracted by that potent cause—curiosity. They listened closely. The simple words of the preacher showed clearly that the new faith was the opposite of the old; that, if accepted by them, it meant a revolution in their beliefs and practices.
Most of the men and a few of the women revolted at the thought. To them the most powerful of motives in human conduct were those of revenge, of prowess in battle, and of mercilessness toward an enemy. To be told that they must root out this passion and be governed by the Golden Rule was turning themselves into squaws, and spurning that nobility which is the crowning glory of the red man's life. Their demeanor was stolid. The wise Deerfoot plainly saw, however, that his doctrine found favor with only a few. He made his appeal as clear and direct as he knew how, but he did not need to be told that he was only partially successful.
The dramatic entrance and declaration by Chief Taggarak of the "pangs of transformation" through which he had passed and his emergence into the new light could not fail to be impressive and to add to the force of what had just been said by the Shawanoe. None the less, it had also an opposite effect in some cases. The warriors who had accepted the leadership for years of one of the greatest chiefs that ever swayed the destinies of the Blackfoot people now repudiated him. He upon whom they had relied so long to lead them in battle and of whose unquestioned bravery and prodigious prowess all knew, had become a woman! Buttheywould remain true warriors and maintain the prestige of their tribe as among the most aggressive in the Northwest.
Still Taggarak swept a number with him. Probably when he was through with his burning appeal a fifth of those present were under "conviction," and could be counted upon in favorable circumstances to become believers in the faith preached by the One who spake and taught as never man spake and taught. It may be said that a half of that number were resolute in this decision. Their sentiments were crystallized. The seed had been sown on good ground and was bearing fruit.
The young Shawanoe was tactful. For him to attempt to add anything to the words of Taggarak would be to weaken them. They were the climax, and silence was golden. Throughout the eloquent appeal of the chief, Deerfoot stood with his hands idly folded behind him, his eyes fixed upon the face of Taggarak, whose pose gave a good view of his features, and listening in the very intentness of his soul. When the chief had uttered his last word he gathered his blanket about his shoulders and strode out of the Big Lodge, looking neither to the right nor left, and again failing to notice his wife and little boy, who sat on the ground and whom he brushed as he passed into the open air. He did not glance behind, but continued his dignified, deliberate stride till he was hidden from sight among the trees beyond the cleared space.
Before this, Deerfoot, without speaking a word, picked his way through the throng, who surveyed him curiously but did not stir until he was outside. The Shawanoe glanced at George and Victor Shelton, and by a look indicated that they were to follow him. They did so, silent like the others, and the three returned to their own tepee without exchanging a word on the road. They were awed by what they had seen and heard, and respected their friend too much to break in upon his meditations. He sat down on the furs in his usual place and they busied themselves with what may be considered their household duties, speaking only now and then to each other. The afternoon was drawing to a close, and, but for the fire that was kept burning, it would have been dark within the lodge. They prepared their meal, but when Deerfoot was invited to eat he shook his head, rose to his feet and passed out.
The Shawanoe had no more time than to straighten up in the open air when he was face to face with Mul-tal-la, who was on his way to see him. They pressed each other's hand and the visitor said:
"Chief Taggarak wishes that his brother the Shawanoe shall come to his lodge."
"Deerfoot goes there," replied the youth, who had been meditating doing so. "Will my brother go with Deerfoot?"
"Only to the lodge. Taggarak does not wish to seehim."
The two walked side by side, the hearts of both full. It was so dark that they drew no attention to themselves. Just before the well-known home of the chief was reached, Mul-tal-la turned off without so much as a farewell word.
The war chief was expecting his visitor. He had sent his wife and boy away in order that he might be alone with the Shawanoe. He sat with his back against the rock, his position allowing the firelight to show his face clearly, especially one side of it. As he recognized his visitor he smiled and extended his hand, after the manner of white men. Deerfoot quickened his pace and grasped the palm and laid the other on the shoulder of the chieftain. How different from their meeting by the lookout rock several days before!
"The heart of Deerfoot is glad," said the visitor, in a low, tremulous voice.
"Taggarak hears the birds sing again. There are no clouds before the sun. He is happy, for the Great Spirit smiles upon him."
One of the most marvelous facts connected with the true religion, and itself a proof of its divinity, is its complete adaptability to every condition of life and to every degree of intelligence. Its essentials are as readily grasped by the clodhopper as by the profoundest scholar whose years are spent in delving into the mysteries of science. No finite mind can fathom the mysteries of life, of death, of sleep, of the beginning, the end, of eternity, of the real nature of the soul and of God, how He came into existence; nor, indeed, shall we ever comprehend in all their fullness the simplest phenomena around us. What is the essence of color or taste or smell? How is the word spoken by us understood by him to whom it is addressed? When we move a hand or foot, where and how does the actionbegin? What is the theoretical limit of divisibility or expansion? These and scores of similar questions have only to be asked for us to feel the utter helplessness of our powers of understanding.
But to the untutored savage, shivering in his rude wigwam and manacled by his sombre superstitions, the essential facts for the saving of his soul become as clear as the sun in the unclouded heavens. The man with a dwarfed intellect can see as plainly as he whose telescope, sweeping the heavens, carries his vision to the bounds of the universe.