CHAPTER XXV.
JACK HALLOWAY AGAIN.
The man was quick-witted. The words and the frenzied gestures told a story which he understood. Standing close to the edge of the stream, he peered into it and caught sight of a white face, loosely flapping limbs and the helpless drift of a human being, borne toward him with the speed of a race horse. The top of the bank was so near the surface that the man dropped on his face, so as to be able to reach forward and downward to the foaming torrent.
He saw the body coming, and braced himself for the herculean effort that would be necessary in the next breath. Reaching so far that he was in danger of losing his own balance, he coolly awaited the critical moment. Then his big hand closed like the paw of a grizzly bear on the shoulder of Victor Shelton. A tremendous wrench and he was dragged out and dropped limp and senseless at the feet of his rescuer.
George Shelton saw this much, and, hardly knowing what he was doing, made a desperate effort to leap the chasm, that he might join the couple. But his foot slipped, too, and only by a superhuman effort did he save himself from tumbling into the swirling wrath of water. Scrambling to his feet, he sped downward to Victor and the stranger. The latter showed his coolness by getting to work without the least delay. Victor was senseless and had swallowed a good deal of water. He seemed to be drowned.
The man held him by the heels and was standing him on his head. Then he rolled him over and pressed his chest, with that oscillation which is helpful in restoring seemingly drowned persons, while the breathless George stood idly by watching everything with straining eyes. He could do nothing but pray and hope.
At the end of a minute or two he saw, with joy unspeakable, the signs of returning life. Victor was on his back, as if dead, when he partly opened his eyes; but there was no expression in them. His rescuer was scrutinizing the lad's face and noted the awakening of consciousness. Straightening up, he said with a sigh:
"He's all right now; but he couldn't have come nigher pegging out."
"You have saved him! You have saved him! Oh, how can I thank you?"
And yielding to the reaction, George sobbed like a child. The stranger looked at him without speaking, and gave his attention again to the prostrate form. Victor speedily regained his senses, and, with a little help from the man, sat up. He stared wonderingly at his new friend and then at his brother, striving manfully to master his emotions. With the waggery that cropped up at the most unexpected times, he turned to George with the question:
"Are you crying because he saved my life?"
"I'm crying for joy. I had given up all hope."
"So had I. I tell you I came pretty near being a goner. Please help me up."
George took his hand and almost lifted Victor to his feet. As he came up he made a grimace, because of the pain that wrenched him. He was so battered and bruised that the wonder was that several bones had not been broken.
"Where's my rifle?" suddenly asked Victor, looking about him.
"In the bottom of the cañon, I reckon."
"Mebbe you'd like to make a dive for it," suggested the man.
"No, I've had enough of that. How shall I thank you for what you have done?"
"By not saying anything about it. By a piece of good luck I happened to be on the spot in time to give you a lift."
The boys now looked more closely at the Good Samaritan. He was attired in the dress common among the trappers and hunters of the Northwest in those days, and was a magnificent specimen of physical manhood, being fully six feet in height, with a broad, massive frame and an immense grizzled beard, which flowed over his chest and covered his face almost to the eyes. He had laid down his long, formidable rifle when he hurried to the rescue of the boy, and he now stooped and picked up the weapon. Moving back a few paces, so as to get beyond the noise made by the rushing waters, he said, in his gruff but not unpleasant voice:
"Tell me how this thing happened."
George briefly gave the particulars of the mishap, to which the man silently listened.
"You ain't the only younker or man either who has lost all by a little slip. The next time you want to make a big jump be sure of your footing. What are you two chaps doing in this part of the world?"
"We have been across the continent, almost to the Pacific, and are now on the way to our home in Ohio."
"You ain't traveling alone, are you?"
"No; we have a companion, who is off somewhere in the mountains, but will soon join us in camp."
"'Pears to me you've been on a powerful long tramp."
"We have. We spent last winter among the Blackfeet, and are homesick."
"I reckon your camp ain't fur off, and we may as well go there."
"We shall be glad to have you with us, for you have proved the best of friends."
"Thar! Thar! Drop that; talk about something else."
When Victor tried to walk he had to lean on the shoulder of his brother, and the pain from his bruises compelled him at times to stop and rest. The burly trapper offered to help, but Victor thanked him and got on quite well with the assistance of George. The man walked a few paces behind the two, that he might not hurry them too much, and because it belonged to the boys to act as guide.
"Who is the man you've got with you?"
"He is a young Shawanoe Indian named Deerfoot," replied George Shelton.
"What!" exclaimed the trapper, stopping as if shot. "Do you mean that handsome young warrior who went through the country below us last summer with a Blackfoot redskin and two younkers?"
"The same. We are the boys that were with him."
"Wal, I'll be skulped!" added the other, as if he could not do justice to his feelings. "I never dreamed of anything likethat."
"Like what?" asked George.
"Seeing that Shawanoe agin. Say, he's a great one, ain't he?"
"You know him, then?"
"Wal, I reckon. He done me the greatest favor of my life—greater than what I done that chap of yourn a little while ago."
"I don't see how that can be," remarked the limping Victor; "but Deerfoot is always doing good to others."
"Didn't he ever tell you anything about me?"
"You haven't told us your name."
"I'm Jack Halloway."
The boys agreed that they had never heard the Shawanoe mention him by name. Victor added:
"He is the last one to speak of his good deeds, and he doesn't like to hear anyone else speak of them."
"He'll hear some one talk when I see him," chuckled the trapper, with a shaking of his herculean shoulders.
Because of Victor's hurts the descent among the foothills to camp took a long time, and the afternoon was well gone when the three reached headquarters. While a little way off the three caught sight of the Shawanoe, who had started a fire and was broiling buffalo steak for supper. He looked with surprise at the sight of Victor leaning on the shoulder of his brother and walking with difficulty, and at the towering form behind them. Ceasing his work, he came forward to greet the party. He paid no attention to the man until George Shelton told of the mishap in which the life of Victor was saved by the person behind them.
During this brief interchange the trapper kept in the background, with his eyes on the Shawanoe. Needless to say, Deerfoot had recognized him at the first glance. Not suspecting this, the man now came forward, the moving of the beard about his mouth showing that he was grinning and chuckling.
"I reckon you don't remember me, Deerfoot."
"Deerfoot could never forget his brother, Jack Halloway," replied the youth, extending his hand, which was warmly grasped by the trapper.
"I'm powerful glad to meet you agin, Shawanoe, though I hadn't much hope of ever doing so. Talk about friends, you beat 'em all, and I'll be skulped if you don't look handsomer than ever—no you don't, for that couldn't be. Shake agin, pardner."
Deerfoot was as pleased to meet his old acquaintance as the latter was to see him. All seated themselves on the ground about the blaze, and as night had not yet come the meal was deferred until more was learned of what had taken place during the interval between the former meeting and the present coming together.
"Why is my brother in the mountains at this season of the year?" asked Deerfoot, when the trapper had lit his pipe.
Of course cold weather is the time for trapping fur-bearing animals. The custom in the olden days was for the hunters to go into the mountains in the autumn, spend the time until spring in gathering peltries, and then bring them to civilization for sale. It was now summer, and it was not to be supposed that Jack Halloway was engaged on professional business in the Laramie Mountains. He explained:
"Last fall I took a partner—Dick Burley by name—and we put in the winter among the beaver runs and mountains over to the northwest. We done so poor that I let Dick start with the pack animals for St. Louis, without me going with him. He hadn't more than half a load, and we made up our minds that we'd got to find new trapping grounds or we shouldn't make enough to pay for our salt. So me and Dick parted and I've been on the tramp for two months."
"How did you make out?" asked Victor, who, having found an easy position for his aching body, felt it his duty to join in the discussion.
"I hit it when I came to this part of the country. A few miles south are hundreds of beaver, foxes, otter and other critters whose furs we're after. I don't think a single one of 'em has ever been trapped. There's where me and Dick will try it next fall."
"Then you will soon go home?"
"I intended to start to-morrow. My horse is a little way back among the foothills, stuffing himself with enough grass to last him a week."
"My brother will go with us," said the pleased Deerfoot.
"If you don't feel too proud to have me for company, I'll be mighty glad to go with you."
"Nothing will suit us better," said George, heartily. It was natural that he and Victor should feel profoundly grateful to the trapper. Even had he not done them so measureless a service they would have liked him from the first.
It was not until the night had fully come, the evening meal eaten and the fire replenished, though the weather remained mild, that a full interchange took place among the different members of the little party. Victor suffered less from his bruises, and with his blanket wrapped about his shoulders showed no effects from his terrifying adventure. The horses were left to themselves, Jack Halloway saying that no attention need be given to his, despite the possibility of some thieving Indian making off with him. The trapper expressed unbounded admiration of Whirlwind, and could not understand how Deerfoot had ever gained such a piece of property. George and Victor did not dare to explain in the presence of the Shawanoe, but each determined to do so on the first opportunity, despite the risk of another "disciplining" at the hands of the modest youth.
After Jack had smoked awhile and the chat had gone on without any special point, he turned to the Shawanoe and said:
"I've seen you stealing a look at me now and then and I know what you done it for."
"Yes, Deerfoot did so; but my brother cannot tell the reason."
"You've been trying to find out from my looks whether I've stuck to the pledge I made you a year ago to give up drinking whiskey."
"That was the reason; Deerfoot was almost but not quite certain."
"Have you any doubts left?"
The Shawanoe smiled.
"Only a shadow."
"Wal, you can kick that shadow out of sight! I haven't drank a drop of the stuff since that night, a year ago, when I flung my flask into the creek, after hearing your sermon, that shook me down to my toes."
Deerfoot leaned over and offered his hand again to happy Jack Halloway, who turned to the boys.
"Being as he never told you, I might as well give you the story."
Thereupon the trapper related in his characteristic fashion the incident of which you heard long ago. The eyes of the boys kindled and Victor said:
"That is only one of a hundred things Deerfoot has done."
Catching a warning look from the Shawanoe, Victor said in desperation:
"I'm not going to try to give a list, Deerfoot, but won't you let me tell Jack how you whipped the greatest war chief of the Blackfeet and how he became a Christian?"
"There is no need of that, but my brothers may tell what happened to them when they disobeyed Deerfoot."
"I'll do that if you don't shut down on the other story."
The Shawanoe would have refused, but the trapper's curiosity had been stirred and he insisted upon hearing of the incident. As a compromise the Indian youth rose to his feet and sauntered out to where Whirlwind was still cropping the juicy herbage. He would not stay and listen to what he knew was about to be said. The boys were glad to have him absent, for it left them free to speak what they pleased, and you may be sure that Victor and George did not mince matters. Their account of that remarkable combat and its results was told with graphic eloquence. Then George added the story of Deerfoot's encounter with the grizzly bear and his defeat of the Assiniboine, whose life he spared. Inasmuch as the boys had never been able to draw the particulars of that combat from Deerfoot, Victor had to embellish it with his own imagination, and he did it to perfection. He was in the midst of a description of how the Shawanoe beat the best marksmen, runners and leapers of the Blackfeet when Deerfoot came back to the camp fire.
"Now let my brothers tell of what happened to them when Deerfoot was through with Taggarak."
"You needn't worry; I didn't forget that. Well, Jack, you see Deerfoot forbade me and George to come anywhere near, but we couldn't stay away. He found it out, cut a big gad and splintered it over our shoulders and we couldn't help ourselves."
And then Jack Halloway threw back his head and roared with laughter, declaring that he had never heard so good a story.
CHAPTER XXVI.
A TEMPERANCE AGITATOR.
"I'll never forget that ride home last year," said Jack Halloway, "after I pulled out in the night and left Deerfoot with you younkers asleep by the camp fire. It took me a week to reach St. Louis, and there wasn't a drop of whiskey to be had on the road. For two or three days I was the most miserable critter that ever limped on two legs. I'd have give my whole load of peltries to get that flask back agin, but there was no help for it. Twice I rode up to the camp fires of Injins, hoping to buy some fire water from them, but neither party had a drop. Then I buckled down to it.
"On the fourth night when I camped I was almost crazy. As I rolled about in my blanket, not able to sleep a wink, I remembered what Deerfoot had said to me about praying. Strange I'd never thought of it before. Wal, I got on my knees, and if ever a poor wretch prayed it was Jack Halloway, and I kept it up for two or three hours. I was about ready to let go whenthe thing which I was praying for came to me!
"Just as plain as I have heard your voices, I catched the words, 'It's all right; you've conquered your temptation; you're boss now.' Some folks may laugh, but it won't do for 'em to say where Jack Halloway can hear 'em that thar's nothing in the Christian religion. I know better, 'cause I've got it right there!" exclaimed the trapper, thumping his heart.
"From that time forward everything was rosy with me. The sun never shone so bright, the birds never sung so sweet and I never felt so happy through and through. I shouted and yelled for joy and walloped the horses, just because I couldn't help it. If I had met anyone at those times he would have set me down as drunk. So I was—drunk with pure joy and religion.
"At St. Louis I sold my peltries for the biggest price I've got in ten years. I took the money home and throwed it into the lap of my little, sweet, gray-haired mother, who just stared at me, not knowing what it meant. When I made it all clear she began crying, and then she dropped on her knees and I dropped alongside of her, and when she got through praying I took up the job and kept things humming for another half hour. After I'd let up I grabbed her in my arms, and we danced about that cabin, just as she used to do when she was the belle of the town, and we laughed and frolicked and made a couple of fools of ourselves.
"When she asked me to tell her the meaning of my short rein-up and change of my life, I give her the whole thing. It was the work of a young Shawanoe Injin called Deerfoot, who was the most ginooine Christian on either side of the old Mississippi. She asked all about you, Deerfoot, and she said she hoped she would meet you some day. So when we get back to St. Louis I'll introduce you."
"Deerfoot will be glad to see the mother of my brother," softly replied the Shawanoe, in a voice tremulous with feeling. He and the boys listened with absorbed interest to the graphic story told by the trapper.
"French Pete keeps the worst whiskey hole along the Mississippi. It is down by the river side and is the main drinking place in the town. He has got hundreds of dollars from the families of the trappers who come down the river in the spring, and for years he has gathered in about every cent I could rake together.
"Wal, after I had been home about a week I strolled down to his place one moonlight night. I told mother not to worry about me, for I would blow my own head off before I'd ever swaller another drop of red p'ison. When I opened the door of the ramshackle cabin, Pete looked up with a grin, and said as how he was wondering where I'd kept myself so long, for he had heerd I'd got back and done unusual well. He was glad to welcome me, and asked what I'd have and the treat was on him for old friendship's sake.
"There didn't happen to be anybody else in the place at the time, for it was early in the evening. I walked up to the bar and leaned on it familiar like, and asked Pete if he didn't think he'd made enough money in ruining other folks to quit the bus'ness. He showed he didn't know what I meant by the strange question. I then said I'd stopped the foolery for good, and give him my opinion of him as the worst wretch in town. He had sot out the whiskey bottle on the bar and shoved out the cork with his thumb and forefinger. I 'spose that was to let me get a whiff of the stuff. I got it. I reached out my hand, pushed the cork back in the bottle, and then grabbing it by the neck brought it down on the bar with a bang that broke it into a dozen pieces and sent the whiskey flying about the room.
"When Pete seed what I was up to he made a swipe at me, remarking several swear words at the same time, but I landed him one under the ear that sent him back so hard aginst the bottles behind him that he bounced forward agin, and I grabbed him.
"He made just the sort of club I wanted. You see I had him by the shoulders and I could swing his heels free and easy like. Wal, I used him that way. For the next ten or fifteen minutes the only music in that place was the panting of Pete and the crash and smash of bottles. The fumes of the stuff filled the room like the mist you sometimes see rising from a kenyon in the mountains. When I got through I don't believe there was a whole bottle left, and as I stepped about the floor I splashed in whiskey, just as we do when the Mississippi overflows the streets. I tossed Pete over into one corner, and, not seeing any more blessed work to do, passed out the door. I met two friends on their way for a drink. When they said good evening I remarked off-hand that they'd find plenty of whiskey inside without asking for it, and went on to my home.
"I expected Pete would make a row about what I'd done and I would be catched in the biggest kind of a row, but there ain't much law in St. Louis just now, on account of the change from Spanish rule to French and then to American. Besides, Pete hasn't got many friends, and I reckon he knew he wouldn't get much sympathy. He rigged up his place after awhile and laid in a new stock of p'ison, but it'll take a long time for him to make up the losses that follered his inviting Jack Halloway to have a drink. Shawanoe," added the trapper, abruptly turning to the Indian, "I want to ask you a question."
"Deerfoot will be glad to answer if he can."
"When I went down to French Pete's place and smashed things and cleaned it out, as I've been stating, did I do right?"
Instead of directly answering, the Shawanoe asked:
"Has the conscience of my brother ever whispered to him that he did wrong in breaking the whiskey bottles?"
"No, I rather think it's the other way. When I started home I felt my conscience clapping me on the shoulder and saying, 'You hit it right that time, old fellow,' and ever since, when I think of it, I hear the same soft words."
There was a twinkle in the eyes of Deerfoot as he gently replied:
"My brother should always do what his conscience tells him to do."
"Good! That settles it! But I've got something more interesting than all that to tell you. If French Pete didn't do anything to me for what I'd done to him, he laid a deep plan to get his revenge. You see he's afraid to tackle me in the open, for I may say there ain't a man living that Jack Halloway is afeard of—barring one."
"Who is he?" asked Victor Shelton, slyly nudging his brother.
"Deerfoot the Shawanoe."
The face of the Indian flushed and he protested:
"Deerfoot would be only a pappoose in the hands of my brother."
"P'raps, but you'd never be in his hands. I've studied your build and quickness, and the chap that can whip a Blackfoot war chief without using a weapon is the best fellow in the world to let alone—I beg pardon, Deerfoot. I'll drop it.
"When it was getting time for me to think about going to the beaver runs agin Dick Burley come to me and proposed that we should be pardners. Dick is a good fellow and I always liked him, for he hasn't a streak of yaller in his make-up. The only objection to him was that he liked firewater too well. He spent enough money at French Pete's to support that rogue. Dick's wife and two children were in rags, and the poor woman had to work herself almost to death to keep from starving. I had talked with Dick many times, not neglecting to give him a good cussing now and then, but it didn't amount to nothing. In the hope of being able to do him good I agreed to go with him to the Northwest.
"Wal, you wouldn't 'spicion what a trick French Pete and Dick was trying to play on me. It was the idea of Pete, but Dick promised to do his part. Pete agreed to let Dick have a whole keg of his best—or rather worst—whiskey without charging him a cent. He was to take it with us, with the sole purpose of getting me into the habit of drinking again. Their ca'clation was that when we got away up in the Northwest, where it was sometimes cold enough to freeze the tail off a brass monkey, and Dick took his swigs reg'lar like, I'd be sure to knock under and jine him. I couldn't stand it to see him enj'ying such bliss and telling what a lot of good it done him.
"I never spicioned anything of the kind, but when I set eyes on that keg stored among the things on our pack horses I fixedmyplan of campaign. Being as it was meant to last four or five months-it wouldn't do for Dick to draw on it too heavy at the start. Then, too, as I said, he expected me to come in on the chorus, and he was saving up for that glad day.
"Every time Dick took a drink, which I must say waren't often, of course he invited me to jine, but when I said no, that was enough and he let me alone. Oh, he was shrewd, and was playing his cards like a boss of the game.
"Wal, we had only one brush with the Injins, and we got to the place we had fixed on without any harm, and with most of the whiskey still in the keg. It was where I had been doing my trapping for several years before I went further South, which was the reason I happened to meet you in that part of the world last summer.
"We set our traps as usual, turned our horses out to grass and stowed our blankets and things in a big holler tree, in which I had cut a door, with a buffalo skin that hung down in front. The first thing Dick carried in was the whiskey keg. 'I think more of that,' he remarked, as he sot it down tender like, as if it was a sick baby, 'than everything else in the outfit.' I made no reply, but I was busy thinking, and when he wa'nt looking I done some chuckling and laughing that would have made him open his eyes had he knowed of it.
"One night when Dick was sleeping particular sound I sneaked out of the holler tree with the keg. I had to be powerful careful, for we folks larn to sleep light, but I managed it without waking him. Having made up my mind long before what I would do, I didn't make any mistake. Raising the cask, with the stuff jingling and sploshing about inside, I brought it down on the p'int of a rock with a force that made it split open like a watermelon. In a few minutes every drop had soaked into the ground and it was a thousand miles to French Pete in St. Louis.
"I had to tell Dick the truth the next morning. The minute he opened his eyes he went for his morning dram. I remarked that we didn't need whiskey in them parts, and being as I had become a temperance man it was agin my principles to have any of the p'ison around.
"Wal, Dick was that mad he turned white. When he realized that there was no way of his getting a drink for months he collapsed. Then he roused up and said as how the insult, being a mortal one, we'd have to settle it outside. I was looking for something of that kind and replied that I was agreeable.
"Dick's idea was that we should use our knives and to keep to it till one was killed or he hollered 'Enough!' which neither of us would do to save his life. I said the best plan would be to use our fists. A duel with knives was liable to be over sudden, while a fist-fight would last much longer, and therefore give both more enjoyment. It wouldn't be any trouble for him as got the upper hand to pound the other to death, and being as the whole thing would be in doubt till it was over, the advantage in the way of real happiness was obvious.
"After some argument Dick seed the p'int, and agreed, and we went at it. Wal, I needn't dwell on the partic'lars. Dick put up a stiff fight, and might have give me a good deal of trouble if it hadn't been that he was weakened by whiskey, while I had long got rid of the effects of the last drop. He had to knock under, and when he found the only way to save himself was to yell 'Enough!' he done it, though, as I said, he would have held out if he had been using knives.
"I rested from pummeling him, but told him he couldn't get up till he had told the Lord what a mean scamp he was and had asked His forgiveness and promised to try to live a Christian. Dick wasn't expecting anything like that, and he b'iled over with rage. But it did no good, and I banged him agin, good and hard, and told him I never would stop till he knocked under.
"I had to soothe him a good while before he give in. He said he would do as I wished and then I let him up. He wanted to wait till night, but I wouldn't allow it, and he went down on his knees and sailed in. I made him pray out loud, so as to be sure he put things in right shape. Now, Deerfoot, tell me whether I managedthatjob right."
The Shawanoe was puzzled, for the trapper had submitted a new phase of the most interesting question to him. But Deerfoot was shrewd.
"Let my brother finish his story."
"Oh, the job came out all right. Dick was sulky and ugly for a few days, though I made him stick to his prayers every morning and night. But bye and bye, when the whiskey got out of him, he begun to improve. One day he laughed, but was so scared by it that he didn't speak till night. Soon after that he told me he felt a good deal better, which the same I replied was because he was getting over the long drunk he had been on for a dozen years.
"Wal, Dick continued to improve. His spirits rose, his appetite was stronger, he could stand more work, and I noticed that in praying he yelled louder than ever. All these was good signs and showed that I had managed the bus'ness right, so I won't ask your opinion on my style, Deerfoot.
"Then Dick told me of the job that French Pete and him had put up on me. I could afford to laugh, but Dick was that mad that he was eager to get back to St. Louis, so that he could go down to Pete's place and smash things as I done. But I talked him out of that, and he promised me he wouldn't undertake the bus'ness till I could jine him. You know there's a sweetness about such work that I 'spose made me selfish. I warn't willing he should have all the enj'yment to himself.
"I've showed my faith in Dick by sending him home with the peltries. You see it isn't like a chap trying to make a man of himself when the temptation is at his elbow. Dick had to go without for months, and that give him enough time to become master of himself. All that I'm afeard of is that he'll get impatient when he catches sight of French Pete's place and forget his promise to me."
CHAPTER XXVII.
"GOOD-BYE."
The remainder of the homeward journey was without special incident. It was several days before Victor Shelton fully recovered from the pounding caused by his fall into the torrent. The loss of his rifle was keenly felt, but he did not fret, for it would have been ungrateful after his marvelous escape.
Jack Halloway's spirits were irrepressible, and his good nature was like so much sunshine. The only fault to be found with him was his inclination to burst into song, without waiting for urging on the part of his friends. He was gifted with a tremendous voice, but unfortunately he had no more idea of a tune than a grizzly bear. But no one could criticize the fellow, who was the life of the little party.
The course of our friends was southeast, leading through the present States of Wyoming, Colorado and into Kansas, where they struck the trail of the year before. This was followed across Missouri, and, without mishap, all four reached in due time that old French town on the Mississippi.
Deerfoot and the boys stayed there for one night and a part of a day. It was a visit which they always remembered. The only fly in the ointment was the discovery by Jack Halloway that Dick Burley, after all, had broken his promise. He had not been in St. Louis twenty-four hours when he sauntered down to French Pete's place. That worthy met him with a grin, supposing he had come to make his report, whose nature was not doubted. Then Dick, after denouncing the fellow as he deserved, proceeded to business in as emphatic a fashion as Jack had done the preceding year. He was equally thorough, perhaps more so, for he not only left the place a wreck, and the proprietor senseless, but "laid out" two brawlers who happened to be present and were imprudent enough to try to help the landlord.
"I've one hope," said Jack, in telling of the incident. "Pete will start up agin and then it'll bemyturn to make a friendly call on him."
In that humble home, on the upper margin of the straggling town of St. Louis, Jack Halloway introduced George and Victor Shelton and Deerfoot to his mother. She was a sprightly little lady, who could not have weighed a hundred pounds, and whose soft, wavy, white hair and pink cheeks and regular features spoke of the unusual beauty that was hers when she was the belle of the town. She had a serene beauty and winsomeness that warmed the hearts of the callers from the moment they first saw her.
As soon as the introductions and greetings were over, Jack caught his mother in his arms and tossed her as high as the ceiling would permit, catching her as she descended and kissing her as if she were a little child. Then, waving the others to seats, he dropped into the single rocking chair and held her on his knee during the conversation that followed. Her soul was wrapped up in this massive boy with the strength of a giant, and her happiness over his restoration to her after her years of prayer had a pathos and sweetness that nothing else in all the world could give.
When the chatter had gone on for a few minutes Jack drew his mother's face down beside his own and whispered:
"Did you ever see as handsome a chap as that young Indian sitting over there in the corner? Look how modest he is, as if he didn't wish to be noticed. Didn't you remember, when I told you his name is Deerfoot, that he's the chap that made me throw away my flask of whiskey and was the cause of my becoming aman?"
"No," replied the astonished parent, "I didn't recall it. I must have a talk with him before he leaves us."
It was arranged after supper that George and Victor should go to the home of Dick Burley to sleep. Room could have been made for them in the cabin of Jack Halloway by letting the three rest on the floor, and he and his mother would have been pleased; but the brothers showed good taste by accepting the invitation of Burley, at whose house, for the first time in many months, they slept in a bed. There was happy content in that home also, for what loving, devoted wife is not thankful when her husband is restored to her and is in his right mind?
That humble home where Jack Halloway smoked his pipe, with his mother knitting beside him and Deerfoot a little way off in his chair, was the picture of serene, grateful pleasure on the cool summer night, long ago, when the three sat in converse.
The youth was so drawn to the pure, sweet-faced, motherly lady that he could not refuse her request to tell her about himself. He talked more freely than was his wont, and said many things he would not have said in the presence of others. She penetrated the nobility of the youth, who could read and write well, whose mind was stored with considerable knowledge, whose woodcraft approached as near perfection as mortal man can attain, and whose strength, skill and prowess (as she gathered from incidents brought out in the course of the evening) were the superior of any person's whom she had ever seen. In addition, as she said to her son the next day, anyone would be tempted to talk to Deerfoot, because it was such a pleasure to look upon the handsome countenance and to make him smile and show his beautiful teeth.
So it was that Deerfoot was compelled to tell the whole story of his encounter with Taggarak, with its remarkable sequel; of his fight with the grizzly bear, and his conquest of Whirlwind, the peerless stallion. He never would have done this but for the persistent questioning of Mrs. Halloway. The boys had told Jack enough on the long ride from the mountains to St. Louis for him to give his mother the necessary pointers, and he helped her in driving the Shawanoe into a corner, where he could not otherwise extricate himself.
The wonderful thing in the estimation of the good woman was that the hero of these and many other exploits was aChristian. She had never seen one of his race who professed to be a follower of the Meek and Lowly One, though she had heard of such from the missionaries; but she agreed with her son that no more perfect exemplar of Christianity was to be found anywhere.
On the morrow, when the time came to part, Mrs. Halloway took the hand of Deerfoot in her dainty palm, and in a trembling voice thanked him for what he had done for her through what he did for her son. She promised to pray for him every day of her remaining life, and while he stood trying to keep back the tears she added:
"Please bend your head a little."
He bent down and she touched her lips to his forehead, and, still holding the hand, said so that all, Jack, the Shelton boys and Dick Burley, could hear, as they gathered round to say the parting words:
"Well done, good and faithful servant!"
The benison thus bestowed remained with Deerfoot all the way home and to the end of his life. In the cool depths of the forest, amid the fragrance of brown leaves, the bark of trees and of bursting bud and blossom, and by the flow of the crystal brook, he heard the gentle whisper. It came to him when the snow sifted against his frame and the bite of the Arctic blast was as merciless as the fangs of the she-wolf. Above the crash of the hurricane that uprooted and splintered the century-old monarchs of the woods the words rang out like the notes of an angel's trumpet, and in the watches of the night, under the star-gleam or in the fleecy moonlight, while stillness brooded over a sleeping world, the music swung back and forth like a censer through the corridors of the soul, with a sweetness that told him the strings of the harp throbbed under the touch of the fingers of God himself.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
RETROSPECT.2
"I am the son and only child of Taggarak, a leading war chief for many years of the Blackfoot Indians. I had an elder brother, but he died before reaching manhood. I remember the visit made by Deerfoot the Shawanoe to our tribe, in the autumn and winter of 1804 and 1805. He came from Ohio, in company with two brothers named Shelton, that were white, and with Mul-tal-la, who belonged to our own people, and had made the journey eastward into the Shawanoe country. Mul-tal-la had a companion when he left us, but he was accidentally killed after arriving in the East.
"I was not quite five years old when I first saw Deerfoot and his two friends, yet I can never forget him, for he was the most remarkable youth, white or red, that I ever met."
(Here follows a description of Deerfoot's appearance, his traits, his skill with rifle and bow, his athletic prowess and his unequaled woodcraft. This need not be repeated, since you are familiar with it. The statement which follows, however, is one of the most remarkable ever penned.)
"I was in the Big Lodge on the afternoon Deerfoot spoke to many of our people of the white man's God, who, he said, was the God of the red man as well. Young as I was, I stood at the knee of my mother, thrilled and almost breathless under the spell of the simple eloquence of the Shawanoe, many of whose words I remember. In the midst of his address my father, Chief Taggarak, strode into the lodge. He passed so close to me that his knee brushed my shoulder. My mother and I looked up at him, but he did not see us, nor did he notice anyone except Deerfoot. His eyes were fixed on the young Shawanoe, and we all thought he meant to attack him.
"Deerfoot saw him enter, stopped speaking and looked steadily at the chief as he drew near. Deerfoot always carried his knife at his girdle, though of course he had laid aside his gun. I remember wondering why he did not draw his weapon, but, instead of doing so, he placed his hands behind his back and calmly surveyed Taggarak, without the least sign of fear. From what I afterward learned, I am sure that if my father had attacked the Shawanoe, the chief would have been quickly overcome, if not killed.
"Within two paces of Deerfoot, Taggarak wheeled about,facedhis people and made an impassioned avowal of his belief in the Christian religion. He declared that the true God had spoken to him when he tried to hide himself in the woods and to close his ears against His words. That God had not allowed him to sleep or eat or drink or rest till he threw himself on his face, and with streaming eyes begged Him to forgive and take him into His favor.
"Never was there such excitement among the Blackfoot tribe as was caused by the declaration of their greatest war chief that he had become a Christian. It almost rent the tribe in twain. We had a number of villages and different chiefs, but Taggarak was the greatest of them all.
"It was clear to everyone that he looked upon Deerfoot the Shawanoe as more than an ordinary human being. In truth I thought and still think the same, and I believe you will agree with me when you hear the rest of my story. Taggarak asked Deerfoot whether he should give up his chieftaincy, and was ready to do whatever the Shawanoe advised. Deerfoot told him to remain chief as long as he lived, but to be merciful to his enemies, never to fight except in defence of his home and people, and to pray to God morning and night and to do all he could to please Him in his actions, his words and his thoughts. Deerfoot did much in the way of teaching him, and Taggarak became a Christian, as did my mother and myself and others of our tribe, though I never understood all the height and depth and breadth of God's love and plans until I had grown to manhood and talked with the missionaries.
"Christianity would have been firmly planted among my people but for the acts of the white men themselves. When the expedition of Lewis and Clark came through our country one of them killed a Blackfoot. No doubt there was some justification for the act, but it made our tribe the enemies of the white men, and many who professed to love the God of the palefaces now cast away such love and would have none of it. Taggarak was much grieved and indignant over the action of the white men, but nothing could weaken or shake his faith in Christianity."
(The incident alluded to occurred July 27, 1806. A party of Blackfeet stole a number of horses belonging to Lewis and Clark's party, were pursued, and one of the Indians killed and another wounded. The tribe was so embittered toward the whites that they were treacherous enemies to them for many years afterward.)
"From the year following this sad event, however, the authority of Taggarak waned. He did not care for power, and was content to let it slip gradually from him and pass to others. I could have become chief had I wished it, but I knew I was distrusted because I professed Christianity, and the Blackfeet and I thought so differently about everything that I remained a simple warrior, content to serve my father and mother, as an obedient son.
"I did not know for years of the encounter between Taggarak and Deerfoot in the wood, when the chief sought his life, but was overcome and then spared by the Shawanoe. Deerfoot never spoke of it, and I was almost grown when my father told my mother and me of the strange incident, which was the means of the chief's accepting the religion that the youth taught by word and example.
"When Deerfoot left our village, Taggarak begged him to visit him again. He urged so hard that the youth said he would do so if he could, but he saw little hope and thought their next meeting would have to wait till both passed into the hunting grounds above.
"Taggarak meditated much over the coming of Deerfoot. As he grew older he often went to the elevation, a little way from our village, and near where he had been overcome by the Shawanoe, and passed hours gazing toward the East, looking and hoping for sight of the youth who did not come. He always went alone to the spot and did not suspect his action was noticed by anyone. But at the request of my mother, I stealthily followed the chief. He seated himself on a broad, flat rock, which gave him a view of many miles of mountain, wood and stream, and it seemed that for the hour I watched him he never took his gaze from the point in the sky where the sun first showed itself. I have sometimes wondered whether my father mistook any approaching warrior for the Shawanoe. I never learned, for not once did he ever refer to those lonely visits to the elevation.
"One day my father said, with his old sternness of manner, that since Deerfoot was not coming to see him, I must take a message to the Shawanoe in his distant home. It was a startling command, but was not unwelcome to me. I had heard much of the white man's country, and knew the palefaces were fast pushing into our own. I had listened to Mul-tal-la's wonderful stories times without number, and often resolved that when an opportunity came I should visit the white towns and settlements.
"I was glad, therefore, when my father spoke as he did, and still more glad when Mul-tal-la, although he had a wife and two children, offered to go with me. He was anxious to see Deerfoot and the acquaintances he had made many years before, whose memory was always a pleasure to him.
"My father's message to the Shawanoe amounted to little. I was to tell him the chief was still true to his faith, and to ask him whether he could come to the chief, and, if he could not, whether he still remembered Taggarak. That was all.
"I was a grown man when, with Mul-tal-la as my companion, I rode down from the Blackfoot country and we set out on the long journey he had made more than twenty years before. He remembered every river, stream, mountain and prairie, though the settlements had brought many changes, and on the way to the Ohio he met several acquaintances.
"It would be of no interest to tell of our journey, though we had more than one adventure. The first place we visited was the little town of Woodvale, so familiar to Mul-tal-la, and which had grown to that extent that it had taken a new name.
"There we found George and Victor Shelton, almost in middle life, both married and among the leading citizens. They were filled with joy to see Mul-tal-la, and did all they could to make our visit pleasant. But we had talked only a little while when we were grieved to learn that Deerfoot, who had moved to the west of the Mississippi, had been dead a good many years. Not only that, but the manner of his death was the saddest of which I had ever heard. (See "The Last War Trail.")
"We stayed for several weeks in Ohio and met many old friends of the Shawanoe. The one whom I best remember was Simon Kenton, who had great fame as a hunter, and who had always been a close comrade of Deerfoot. He was an old man when I saw him, but as strong and active as many who had lived only half his years. He came to Woodvale the night before we left on our return and stayed with Victor Shelton. His eyes filled with tears when he spoke of Deerfoot, and said that the memory of the brave, blameless life he lived in all circumstances had more to do with making Kenton himself a Christian than did the camp meeting at which he professed conversion.
"Well, we set out for home, and though a part of the journey was made in winter we met with no mishap. When we arrived, Mul-tal-la went straight to his lodge to see his wife and children and I hurried to my home, where I knew the chief had long expected me. I was greatly relieved to find him and my mother well.
"When I came into my father's presence, and before I had time to do more than speak my pleasure, he raised his hand as a command for me to keep silent.
"'I know what you would say, but you need not tell me. Deerfoot has been here and told me all.'
"'But Deerfoot is dead,' I replied; 'that cannot be.'
"'Did I not say he has visited me since you were gone, and told me all?'
"And then, forbidding me to open my lips, he related the full story of Deerfoot's death. He gave the particulars, and was not wrong in the slightest one. The chief need not have forbidden me to speak, for I could not say a word for a long time afterward. He told me nothing more. I cannot explain it."
(Possibly psychologists may find the explanation of this remarkable fact in mental telepathy, but how shall we explain the still more extraordinary statement that follows?)
"My mother had grown old and feeble and died a few months after I came home. I noticed that father stopped going to the elevation beyond the village and looking toward the rising sun for the coming of Deerfoot. Nor did he seem to wish to speak of him, though I know the Shawanoe was much in his thoughts. The chief gradually failed, and when the weather grew cold he did not leave his lodge.
"He and I lived together. I gave him affectionate attention and did not let him lack for comfort. Others often visited him, for the Blackfeet could not forget that he had been one of their greatest war chiefs. Our lodge was not fashioned like the others. One side was the face of a large rock, against which we always kindled the fire. At each of the opposite two corners was a strong post. These were connected at the tops by a horizontal beam and from each post was stretched another beam, whose farther end rested on the rock. This and the three beams gave support for the framework of the roof, which was made of the boughs of trees. The sides and walls were of thick bark lined with buffalo robes. This made the square room below free of all supports or posts. My bed of furs was at one side and that of my father opposite. An opening in the roof, where it joined the rock and exactly over the fire, gave an outlet for the smoke.
"One calm, cold night in autumn, after I had piled a deal of wood on the blaze and seen that my father was warmly wrapped in furs and sleeping comfortably, I lay down and fell asleep almost at once. It could not have been long afterward that I was awakened by the sound of people talking together. At first I thought they were outside the lodge, but the fire was burning so bright that it was like noonday within and I saw that the two persons who were conversing were standing only a few paces from me.
"One was Chief Taggarak, my father. His face was turned partly away and toward me and there could be no mistake as to him. The other's back and one shoulder hid his features, but something familiar in his appearance and the sound of his voice struck me. While I was looking and listening he shifted his position and I saw his face.
"It was Deerfoot the Shawanoe!