There was but one thing to do—shoot at the Pawnee and run. Jack bent over to pick up his gun, but in his panic grasped Deerfoot's bow by mistake. Fortunately, it was strung, and it took only a second or two to fit an arrow in place. Pointing it at the approaching Indian, he put forth his utmost strength to draw it to a head.
Before he could do so the Pawnee was within ten yards—close enough for him to discover some movement in his field of vision even though his gaze still rested on the ground. He stopped as if on the edge of a precipice, and looking up, saw a pale-face holding a formidable bow, with the arrow pointing at his breast.
This particular Pawnee was Red Wolf, who had been driven almost out of his senses when Deerfoot launched the shafts at him and Lone Bear, as they sat by the deserted fire. The figure on which he gazed was not the terrible Shawanoe, but the bow and the arm which slowly drew back the string and arrow were more than enough. He whirled like a flash and was off, bounding from right to left, as do the Digger Indians of the west when seeking to disconcert the aim of an enemy.
"Confound you!" muttered, the archer, "since you are so afraid, I'll give you cause to be; I'll bury this arrow in your back, so that you may take it home in place of the scalp."
Whiz!went the shaft, with all the power he could throw into his arm, and with the best possible aim. It is enough to say that it did not come within ten feet of hitting the fugitive.
The incident showed that it would not be safe for the lad to stay where he was for another minute. Without stopping to consider the consequences, he shoved off the canoe, stepped into it, and, seizing the paddle, began guiding it down the stream. As he did so, he kept it as close as he could to the shore, where the likelihood of discovery was much less than further out in the stream.
Meanwhile, Red Wolf awoke to the fact that he owned a good voice, and that one of the enemies for whom he and the rest of the Pawnees were hunting, was much nearer than was supposed. He emitted a screeching yell, enough to startle all who heard it, and, looking around and seeing nothing of the white archer, he stopped and again signaled for the rest to hasten while it was yet time.
The echoes were heard lingering among the arches of the woods, when a footfall fell on his ear. Turning his head, he observed another warrior, but the first glimpse revealed the startling fact that he belonged to a tribe not only different from that of the Shawanoe, but from the Pawnees. There could be no mistake as to his sentiments, for the moment he discerned Red Wolf, he brought his gun to his shoulder The Pawnee made an attempt to leap behind the nearest tree, but before he could do so, Hay-uta, the Sauk, pulled the trigger. There was no missthattime: the career of Red Wolf ended then and there.
"There's been too much mercy shown the Pawnees," probably thought Hay-uta, as he ran forward to tear the scalp from the head of his vanquished foe. Reaching the inanimate body, he caught the long hair, whipped out his knife, and was pressing the crown with the point, when he uttered an exclamation, dropped the horsehair-like locks, shoved his knife back in place, and ran from the spot.
That which upset Hay-uta's balance for the moment, was the sudden recollection that he was aChristianIndian instead of a heathen. One of the cardinal truths which Deerfoot had impressed on him, was that he should use no unnecessary cruelty toward his enemies; that he should refrain from the barbarous practice of taking the scalp of a fallen foe.
The Sauk halted a few minutes until he could reload his gun, for, like all frontiersmen, he appreciated the need of having a loaded weapon always at command. Then he resumed his flight toward the point where he had left his young pale-face friend. This carried him so close to the canoe that he saw it in the act of moving from the shore, and recognized the figure of Jack within it. Suspecting what it meant, he hurried thither, and was observed by the lad at the moment he dipped the paddle in the current. He reversed the movement, and immediately after, the Sauk stepped within and took the second paddle.
The youth laid his down, saying: "You understand this business better than I, and I won't mix things by trying to paddle in one direction while you work in another."
In turning over to Hay-uta the charge of the canoe. Jack did the wisest thing he could do, and he pleased his companion, on whom, it may be said, for the time the welfare of both rested.
No good reason could be thought of why Jack and the Sauk should remain in the canoe. In fact, they would have shown more prudence had they remained where they were when the Pawnees disembarked and walked out of sight in the woods; or, if they felt the need of changing their quarters, they ought to have gone as far as they could from their foes, instead of following them and inviting more peril.
The training of the American Indian makes him treacherous, subtle and full of resources. The desire to "get ahead" of, or to outwit a rival is natural to us all, and is one of the most characteristic traits of the red men. It was that prompting, more than any thing else, which led Hay-uta to leave the youth behind, while he trailed the Pawnees into the forest.
But the death-shriek of Red Wolf was sure to bring his comrades to the spot within the space of one or two minutes; they would quickly read the particulars of the story, and the footprints of the Sauk would be traced to the river's edge, where their arrival was inevitable within an almost equally brief space of time.
Should Hay-uta head for the opposite bank, and whirl the paddle with might and main, he and his companion would be riddled with bullets before they could pass beyond range of the Indians on shore. There really was but one thing to do, and that was done off-hand and without hesitation.
The canoe, under the silent but powerful strokes of the Sauk, and with its light load, skimmed over the surface like a swallow. Hay-uta ran as close in as he could, without allowing the overhanging limbs to obstruct his speed. Twenty rods were passed in this manner, when he turned the head of the boat toward shore, refraining, however, from letting it run against it. One bound carried him out, and Jack was at his heels. Then a gentle shove sent it beyond the dripping branches, where it was under full control of the current, and it resumed its downward flight, though in the bewildered fashion which showed it was under the control of no one.
It was fortunate for our friends that the margin of the stream was fringed with so much vegetation, as it afforded the best kind of a hiding place. Without entering the water, they crouched into the smallest possible space, Jack wondering whether their good fortune would still bear them company.
A wailing cry sounded a brief distance above, and the lad needed not the grimace and gesture of the Sauk to know that the Pawnees had discovered the body of Red Wolf and the theft of the boat. Within the following minute the tread of hurrying moccasins was heard, and they passed within a few feet of where the two lay, not daring even to look up. That was all well enough, but when another cry made known they had found the craft, the real peril of the two may be said to have begun.
Jack Carleton knew as well as if it had taken place under his own eyes, that one of the Pawnees was making his way through the water to the boat, whose gunwale was grasped, and by which it was drawn back to land. This took place about as far below our friends as the point from which they started the canoe was above them. If the Pawnees should retrace the ground, carefully beating the bushes for "game", they would be sure to drive it out.
Jack found the care of the bow of Deerfoot quite a burden. It was continually in his way, and was of no help at all. Seeing his embarrassment, the Sauk took it in charge, while the youth suspended the quiver over his shoulder.
The Pawnees did not make the search that was dreaded, and it is not difficult to guess the reason. They had just lost one of their number, and, though there seemed to be only two foes near them, yet they must have suspected there were more. These strangers could do terrific fighting, as they had proven, and the five Pawnees preferred to await the arrival of re-enforcements, which would soon come from the other side. In truth, a study of the events which followed, as well of those which preceded, shows good reason to believe the curious coincidence that the Pawnees were as ignorant of the reappearance of the Shawanoe on the other bank, as he was of the passage of the river by the half dozen hostiles in their canoe.
But the report of the rifle, the death-shriek, and the shouts of the Pawnees, had given Deerfoot an inkling of the truth, before he was able to learn all by investigation on his own part. Still it was a most annoying interference with a daring scheme he had set on foot, and which was in danger of being overthrown altogether. The brow of the youth wrinkled with impatience, for he knew that all this skirmishing could have been saved to his friends, had they used care; but at the moment he was most discouraged, events took an unexpected turn in his favor.
Meanwhile Jack Carleton and Hay-uta did not stir for several minutes, but, as they listened, it seemed to the youth that their enemies required not to come very nigh, in order to locate them by the tumultuous throbbing of his heart. He was sure the brief silence which followed was occupied by the Pawnees in looking for them, but, as I have shown in another place, he erred. The rippling of water caused both to turn their heads, and, through the interlacing vegetation behind, they caught a glimpse of the canoe and its five occupants, heading toward the other side. The Sauk softly insinuated his hand between the leaves, so as to give a better view (though he ran much risk), and Jack ventured to peep forth.
The Pawnees, as our friends believed, had gone back for re-enforcements. Possibly a score, more or less, of warriors would be transferred to the shore they had left, and then the campaign would open in earnest.
Hay-uta could not close his ear to the whispering of prudence; clearly their duty was to leave the spot before their enemies could come back. Bravery, skill, and cunning, when allied to common sense, would permit no other course.
Throwing off, therefore, the extreme caution they had exercised, they rose to their feet, and the Sauk led the way to the river bank. They did not forget the care which a frontiersman always shows when treading the wilderness, but the tension of their nerves was relaxed, and Jack felt some of the jauntiness that was his during the first day he spent with Deerfoot in the hunt for Otto Relstaub.
It did not seem necessary to go far, and scarcely a furlong was passed when the Sauk selected a spot from which they could watch the river without exposing themselves to detection by any one on the further shore. If the Pawnees should return, as our friends were confident they would do, it was not likely they would delay long. It was an easy matter to summon all their warriors, and such as could not be accommodated in the canoe, could swim beside it.
At the moment that the Sauk secured a safe point from which to look out, Jack Carleton made the most important discovery that had come to the knowledge of any one of the three since starting on their journey.
Something on the ground just ahead and a little to one side of Hay-uta, caught his eye. The Sauk did not see it, and the boy did not suspect it was of any account. It was in obedience rather to a whim than to any reasoning impulse that he stepped aside and picked up the object.
"Great Cæsar!" he exclaimed. "It's Otto's cap!"
For a moment Jack stood transfixed, with the article held at arm's length, while the Sauk stared in turn, as if he thought the youth was beside himself.
But the lad was too familiar with that headgear to be mistaken. He turned it over and over, held it close to his face and scrutinized every particle of it; it was the same peaked hat which poor Otto had worn so long, and it was on his head when he and Jack—both captives—parted company weeks before.
How long the hat had lain where it was picked up, could not be told. Its make was such that, while the owner had worn it several years, it was still good for an indefinite time longer. A day or a month of exposure would make little difference in its appearance.
When Jack had recovered from his amazement, he and Hay-uta examined the immediate vicinity. The action of the youth, and the emotion he displayed, told the story to the Sauk, who did not fail also to see the value of the clew that had fallen into their hands.
Ten feet from where the cap was found lay a small decayed tree. It had probably been blown down during some gale. The suggestion presented itself that Otto Relstaub was sitting on this support, when he either flung the hat from him, or some one else did so. That which the friends wished to find now was the footprints left by the lad when he went away:theywould tell the story as nothing else could.
If the missing boy had gone within the preceding two or three days, the keen vision of the Sauk could see and follow the trail. Recognizing his immeasurably superior skill, Jack remained seated on the tree and nodded to Hay-uta to push his search.
The warrior did every thing he could, stepping as lightly as a fawn, his shoulders bending low, while he scrutinized the leaves with a minuteness which would have detected a pin lying on top of them. A faint trail leading through the wilderness is sometimes plainer a few steps distant than it is beneath one's own feet. The disturbance of the vegetation, the rumpling of the leaves resulting in the turning of the under side toward the sun, and those trifling disarrangements which you or I would never notice, can be identified by what may be called an off-hand scrutiny, possibly on the same principle that a careless glance at Pleiades will reveal each of the seven stars, when if the gaze is fixed on the matchless group, one of them modestly shrinks from view.
There was no artifice known to the aboriginal brain which was not called into use by the Sauk warrior. He stepped with the utmost care, so as to disturb the leaves as little as possible. First of all, he gave his attention to the space between the log and the river. That was short, and its examination required but a brief time. Hay-uta seemed to suspect that the trail would be found to lead toward the stream, but he was disappointed, as not the slightest trace was discovered. I may as well say that though the scrutiny was continued for half an hour, and embraced a complete circle around the spot where the hat was found, it resulted in no success at all. The conclusion was inevitable—so long a time had passed since it was thrown to the ground, that every vestige of the footprints had been obliterated.
Finally Hay-uta straightened up, and, looking in the expectant face of Jack, shook his head. "I was afraid of it," said the boy, "so many days have passed since he lost it, that nothing is left but to guess how it all came about—and though I've done all the thinking I know how, I am done."
Such was the fact. How it was that Otto Relstaub had come to leave his hat lying there on the leaves was beyond the power of Jack Carleton to tell. It could hardly be that he had done so voluntarily, for it was impossible to conceive of a reason for it, and the probability that some one else was the cause, only intensified those misgivings which, in a greater or less degree, had tormented the young Kentuckian from the hour he started to hunt for his missing friend.
During the time occupied in the scrutiny of the surroundings, Jack Carleton forgot all about the river for which they had set out to watch for the returning Pawnees. Though the Sauk most likely kept it in mind, yet he was so occupied that he gave it no attention. Now, that he was relieved, however, he advanced the few yards required, and took a survey of the river as it swept past.
It so happened that he was just in time, for the canoe which had caused such a stir earlier in the day was returning. It was two hundred yards up stream, and was loaded to its utmost capacity with Indian warriors. There were fully a dozen, and the craft was sunk to its gunwales—so much so indeed that the two who were handling the paddles were forced to use care to escape swamping.
The Sauk thought that probably other Indians were swimming alongside or behind the craft, but a brief study of the water convinced him that such was not the case: all the Pawnees who were coming over to push the campaign were in the boat. It would seem that a dozen brave and well armed warriors were sufficient to combat the force on the other side.
Hay-uta stood watching the river with such quietness that Jack, who was still sitting on the prostrate tree, never suspected he had discovered any thing, until he turned about and signified by signs that the craft and its occupants had landed some distance above.
I need not say that all this time the lad was longing for the return of Deerfoot, the Shawanoe. If any one could penetrate the mystery which shut them in at every step, he was the one to do it. None could have attained a point nearer perfection than he, so far as woodcraft was concerned.
"But what can we do?" was the question which presented itself to the youth; "if the faintest footprints showed on the ground, the Sauk would have discovered them, and if they ain't there, Deerfoot can tell no more than we know."
"I wonder what in the name of all that's sensible he meant by crossing the river, and leaving his bow and arrows in my charge. If I owned such an arrangement the first thing I would do would be to fling it into the river. Whatever plan he had in mind when he swam over, must have been a blunder which is likely to upset every thing."
The knowledge that the Pawnees had landed on the same shore where were the Sauk and Jack Carleton required attention on their part, for if their enemies decided to search for the marauders who, after slaying Red Wolf, had run off with their canoe, it would not do for the parties to remain idle.
In making their way to the spot where they were now resting, our friends had taken much pains to hide their footprints, and it would be a hard matter for the Pawnees to trace them. In fact, Hay-uta felt little fear of it.
While he and Jack busied themselves in the manner described, Deerfoot had not been idle. He swam the river, as you have been told, and reached the other shore, without awakening suspicion on the part of the Pawnees. After emerging from the water, he set about locating the war party, for the first step in his scheme required that to be done. His expectation was that the company were gathered near some point not far removed from the camp-fire of the night before.
A scout through the woods, however, showed he was mistaken. He found what seemed to be half the party grouped around a new fire, where there was evidence that most of the previous night had been spent. Breakfast was over, and a number were smoking pipes. The experienced eye of the Shawanoe told him there was no purpose just then of moving away. The Pawnee villages were still far to the north-west, but the warriors were in the comfortable condition of those travelers who are at liberty to spend as much time as they choose on the road. It mattered little to them whether they were a week early or a month late.
Had any one observed the countenance of the young Shawanoe while he was studying the group around the camp-fire, he would have seen that he was deeply interested in one warrior, who was standing with arms folded, and leaning lazily against a tree, smoking a long-stemmed pipe. It was his old acquaintance Lone Bear, and it was clear that, whatever the plan of the Shawanoe, it assigned a prominent place in it to that individual.
Without affecting any secrecy in the matter, I may as well say that the scheme of Deerfoot was as simple as difficult. He could converse readily with the Pawnee, Lone Bear; the latter knew the fate of Otto Relstaub; he had lied when asked for information; Deerfoot resolved to compel him, if possible, to tell the truth.
The project at first seems absurd, for it may well be asked by what possible means could Deerfoot hope to extract reliable information from the rogue. It would never do to venture among the war party for that purpose, for the previous experience of the Shawanoe showed how he was hated, and the situation had not improved since then.
Deerfoot hoped to separate Lone Bear from the rest of the company, so as to have him alone to "operate" upon; but that would require strategy more delicate and skillful than that by which the hunter detaches a choice bull from a herd of bison, until he has him where he wants him.
Enough has been told to show in what terror the Shawanoe was held by Lone Bear, who believed he was under the special patronage of the Evil One. Should he encounter the dreaded warrior alone in the woods, more than likely he would succumb without a blow.
But the Pawnee was among his own people, and it looked as if he meant to stay there for an indefinite time to come. As nothing could be done so long as he had company, the one and all important problem which faced Deerfoot at the beginning, was how he was to draw the warrior away to a safe point in the wood.
There really was no means of doing so. Deerfoot could conjure up no strategy which, when launched against a party of Indians, would produce the desired effect upon a single member, leaving the others unaware of what was going on. He had asked the Great Spirit to open the way, and he was prepared to wait, with the stoical patience of his race, for the "moving of the waters".
Lone Bear smoked his pipe with the placid enjoyment of an ancient Hollander, while the Shawanoe surveyed his painted and sodden features with peculiar interest. Red Wolf and several warriors, with whom he had become familiar, were missing, but the presence of one party caused surprise. The redskin who had held Jack Carleton prisoner for a short time the evening before was among the group, also smoking his pipe with as much pleasure as Lone Bear himself. He did not seem to attract any attention, and was as much at home as any of them.
His case was a singular one, but Deerfoot concluded that he had had some quarrel with the members of the company. He had probably killed his antagonist, and had fled without stopping to catch up his gun. After his experience on the other side of the stream, he had opened negotiations at long range with the company, and, finding them ready to receive him, had passed over and joined them.
Suddenly Lone Bear stood upright, like a man who recalls a forgotten engagement. He took his pipe from his mouth and stared around in the woods, as if looking for some one. Deerfoot's heart fluttered with the hope that he meant to start off alone.
At this moment, the battle on the other side of the river opened. The whoops, report of a gun and cries caused much excitement among the Pawnees. All of them sprang to their feet and looked toward the river (too far off to be seen), as if they expected to learn by observation the meaning of the hubbub.
The Shawanoe frowned with impatience, for, as has been stated, it looked as if the imprudence of his friends across the stream would destroy the purpose which had brought him to the vicinity of the Pawnee camp. The probabilities indicated great danger, so far as Hay-uta and Jack were concerned, and Deerfoot was on the point of rejoining them, when he decided to wait. Whatever their peril, the end was likely to come before he could reach them.
The sound of the turmoil borne to the war party in camp soon ceased, and a long silence followed. Two of them walked toward the river, and a third sauntered in another direction—all apparently in pursuit of information. Deerfoot's eyes sparkled. Ah, if that third man had only been Lone Bear!
The warrior on whom the young Indian had his attention fixed, however, seemed to be partial to his former attitude, and, still puffing his pipe, he leaned once more against the tree, as if lost in meditation.
By and by the red men from the other side came over in the canoe, and, as may be supposed, they had a stirring story to tell. Deerfoot watched them from his concealment, but heard nothing from which he could gain any information.
Among the dozen selected to make the return in the canoe was Lone Bear. Suspecting their intention, Deerfoot kept his eye on them until the craft left the shore.
It was then he "grasped the situation". The Sauk and his young companion had taken care of themselves in spite of the large party of enemies; they had stirred the wrath of the Pawnees to that point that they had secured re-enforcements to go back and crush the daring foes.
All this proved that it would not do for Deerfoot to linger after the departure of the party, especially as the one in which he was particularly interested was in the canoe.
The boat, laden so deeply with painted valor, reached the shore only a few minutes in advance of the Shawanoe, who, with his usual skill, avoided detection by friend or foe. The point where he landed was above that which the canoe touched, for he tried to approach as nearly as he could the spot where he had left his two friends. He quickly learned they were not there, and then moved down the stream parallel to its course, keeping near enough to observe it all the way.
It will be noticed that this took him close to the Pawnees, who were also searching for Hay-uta and Jack Carleton. In one sense, the larger body was between two fires, but in no danger. The shape of affairs was singular. The Pawnees were hunting for the Sauk and his companion, while Deerfoot, their friend, was also looking for them, but doing it in the wake of their enemies. The difficulty of Deerfoot was increased by the fact that whatever signal he sent to his friends, would have to be thrown over the heads of their enemies.
But the Shawanoe addressed himself to the task with his usual coolness and confidence. When he caught sight of the warriors, moving along the bank of the river in no particular order, he fell in, and "joined the procession," as may be said. It is not to be supposed that the Pawnees had struck at once the trail of those who took so much pains to keep out of their way, but the loose manner in which they were following them indicated that they suspected, rather than knew, the course taken by the fugitives.
When this had continued some minutes, the Shawanoe appeared to feel the necessity of reaching some understanding with his friends, despite the great risk incurred. He therefore emitted the soft, bird-like signal, which he knew would be recognized if it reached them.
Indeed, there could be no mistake in that respect. The trouble lay in the fact that it would also be heard by enemies, who, if they did not know, would be quite sure to suspect its purport.
The ear of the American Indian, like his eye, is trained to wonderful fineness, and the faint, tremulous note, which seemed to float from among the tree tops, stirred the suspicions of the Pawnees. They stopped in their straggling pursuit, and showed such interest that Deerfoot was compelled, for safety's sake, to steal further to the rear. If they should locate the point whence the call was sent, it would be advisable for him to move still further away.
But the result of the signal, if disappointing in one or two respects (for it brought no response from his friends), was gratifying from another point of view. It was apparent that the call of the Shawanoe produced uneasiness among the Pawnees. It showed that, while they were hunting for their enemies in one direction, one of them, at least, was in another place. It must have deepened the old fear that a large number of foes was in the neighborhood, maneuvering on the outer part of the circle which inclosed the Pawnees. Enormous advantage was thus placed at the command of the strangers, and the situation of the warriors bore a suggestive similarity to that of the hunter who, while hunting the tiger, discovered that the tiger was hunting him.
Deerfoot did not withdraw so far that he lost his surveillance of the Pawnees. He smiled in his faint way, when he noticed their glances toward different points of the compass, and saw them gather for consultation.
They stood thus only a few moments, when a singular movement followed. Three of the Pawnees took each a different direction through the wood, while the main body continued its advance in a more stealthy manner than before. Their line was along the river and close to it, which looked as if they were following the trail of the Sauk and Jack Carleton. Whether or not such was the fact could not be determined by Deerfoot, since the footprints of the Pawnees, covering the same course, hid those of the two in advance.
In fact Deerfoot did not care, for, if the Sauk and Jack Carleton knew no better than to allow a party of hostiles to overhaul them in the wilderness, they deserved the consequences; but cool and collected as was the young Shawanoe, his heart gave a quick throb when he noticed the other movements which I have named.
One of the dusky scouts took a south-westerly course, another went almost due south, while the third faced the south-east, the paths of the three diverging like so many spokes of a wheel. The course of the last named, if persisted in, would take him within a hundred feet of the tree behind which the Shawanoe screened himself.
What rendered this prospect more gratifying was the fact that this Pawnee was Lone Bear, the very warrior whom the Shawanoe was so eager to detach from the main party, so as to gain the chance to "operate" on him; the opportunity he sought was thrust into his hands so unexpectedly that he believed it was in answer to his prayer.
It would seem that Deerfoot ought not to have found any difficulty in manipulating matters to suit himself, but his situation was exceptionally delicate; for, above everything else, it was necessary that he should not be discovered, or have his presence suspected. It would seem, however, that the signal should have given the clew.
Lone Bear had started on a scout, and, recalling his experience on the other side of the river, he was sure to put forth all the cunning of his nature to escape any surprise from his enemies. He was alert, and glanced from side to side, and indeed in all directions, while advancing on a slow, loping trot. It was easy enough to avoid discovery from him, but, in moving round the trunk of the tree (so as to interpose it as a guard), there came a time when the Shawanoe was likely to be seen by the main party, which was not only close, but showed no hurry to move on.
This danger was avoided by Deerfoot with characteristic deftness. He lay flat on his face, in which posture he could not be detected by any one a dozen yards away, and skillfully shifted his position until the back of Lone Bear was toward him. Peering around the trunk, he kept his eyes on the Pawnee until the intervening trees and vegetation shut him from sight. Then Deerfoot rose to his feet, and took his trail like a bloodhound.
The Shawanoe felt the battle was won. There could be no doubt that Lone Bear had started on the same errand as the other two—that of scouting through the neighborhood for the main party of Pawnees. Deerfoot might have wondered that he should do so, after the wild panic into which he had been thrown by him, but like enough he felt the need of some such action in order to repair his damaged reputation. It was not impossible that he volunteered for the perilous duty.
But having taken such a step, it must not be supposed that Lone Bear forgot the perils to which he would be exposed. His vigilance was unremitting, and it need not be said that he looked well to the rear.
In a few minutes the pursuer and his unconscious fugitive were beyond danger of discovery from the main party, and there was little fear of Lone Bear escaping Deerfoot. He had his trail and was sure to run him down.
The Pawnee scout followed an almost direct course for twenty rods, when he stopped, and, standing erect, slowly turned his head and body, using eyes, and ears for all they were worth. He seemed to be satisfied with what he failed to discover, and advanced at a slower gait in the direction of the river, displaying the same vigilance shown from the first.
The distance between Lone Bear and his friends was great enough to suit the purpose of Deerfoot, who now began to maneuver with a view of getting near his man without the latter suspecting it. Great as were the cunning and woodcraft of the Shawanoe, it is difficult to believe such an exploit possible, in view of the watchfulness of the Pawnee. He was scouting against his enemies, and to suppose he would permit one to approach him unobserved is to declare him a stupid Indian—which he was far from being.
But a guarded pursuit and study of his actions, made it clear what his line of conduct was to be, and like the most successful of woodmen, Deerfoot in adopting a certain policy anticipated the action of his adversary.
The latter had not proceeded far in the direction of the river when he again stopped, and, standing motionless, looked and listened, just as he had done many a time when stealing through the country of an enemy, and just as he did years before when fleeing for so many miles through the wilderness to escape the Shawanoes.
For aught that he saw, the Pawnee might have been the only living person within a thousand miles of the lonely spot. Looking aloft at the arching trunks, the branching boughs, and the spread of the leafy roof, he saw no sign of life, except a gray squirrel, which, running lightly along the shaggy bark of a huge limb, whisked out of sight in the wealth of vegetation beyond. Here and there patches of blue sky could be detected, with the white flecks of clouds drifting past, but neither the ground nor the trees nor the air showed aught else. Not even a bird, sailing high overhead, flitted to sight, and the leaves below were rustled by no step of bear or deer or smaller animal.
But such might be the case, with a score of red men prowling near at hand. They would flit hither and thither like so many phantoms, and all the acuteness the Pawnee possessed was needed to elude the traps they were likely to set for his feet. He seemed to believe he was alone, and, resuming his noiseless advance, he did not stop until the listening ear detected the soft flow of the stream, and the daylight between the trees showed the river close at hand.
Again, having satisfied himself, he moved forward until he caught the gleam of water. The same form of scrutiny which has been described was repeated, after which Lone Bear faced down stream and hurried toward the main party fully a half mile distant.
The course of the Pawnee may be described as similar to that of starting from the hub of a wheel, following one of the spokes to the tire, and after traveling some distance along that, returning to the hub by another spoke. Lone Bear had gone to the limit of his tramp, and as the other scouts had taken the same course through different portions of the wood, it will be seen that the neighborhood was sure to be thoroughly examined.
Lone Bear must have concluded that, wherever their enemies had located, they were not within his bailiwick, for, having faced to the westward, he dropped into his loping trot, which, in the case of many Indians, appeared to be more natural than the ordinary walking gait.
It is not impossible that when the dark eyes of the warrior rested on the large trunk of a white oak almost in his path, he reflected what a capital armor it would make against an enemy. At any rate, whether he thought of it or not, he made the discovery in the most astounding manner.
Less than a dozen steps intervened between him and the dark, corrugated bark of the towering wood king, and he was surveying it with a curious expression, when Deerfoot, the Shawanoe, stepped from behind it, and with his tomahawk raised over his head, faced the Pawnee.
"Let Lone Bear stand still and make no outcry, and Deerfoot will not harm him; let him disobey, and the Shawanoe shall split the skull of the Pawnee before he can utter a cry."
The previous experience of Lone Bear had taught him that it was lost time to argue the question; indeed, no choice remained but to accept the situation, and he did so with a certain meekness which was not without its effect on the Shawanoe.
"Deerfoot is the greatest hunter of the Shawanoes, and the Pawnee bows his head before him."
As he spoke, Lone Bear surprised the other by the completeness of his submission, doing that which was unexpected to his conqueror. The rifle which he was holding in his right hand, when summoned to surrender, was thrown on the ground; then the tomahawk was flung from the girdle, the knife from the sheath, and all three lay beside each other on the leaves. Not only that, but Lone Bear moved three steps backward and signified to the Shawanoe that he was at liberty to come forward and take them without molestation from him.
"Let my brother, Lone Bear, listen," said Deerfoot, lowering the left hand which held the tomahawk aloft and resting it against his hip, where it could be used the instant needed; "let the words of Deerfoot be heeded, and it shall be well with Lone Bear; his rifle and tomahawk and knife shall be given to him, and his brothers, the Pawnees, shall never know he was vanquished by Deerfoot."
This was promising a great deal, and the Pawnee looked questioningly at the other, though it could be seen that he placed much reliance on his pledges.
"The ears of Lone Bear are open; he hears the words of the great Deerfoot; his words reach his heart; what is it my brother, the mighty Shawanoe, would say to him?"
It must have been that Lone Bear had some suspicion of the business of Deerfoot, though it was impossible for him to know his full purpose before Deerfoot made it known.
"My brother will be wise if he heeds the words of Deerfoot; he will please the Great Spirit, for Deerfoot asks him to speak only with a single tongue."
"Lone Bear will speak with a single tongue."
"Then," said Deerfoot, "he will make known the truth of the pale-faced boy for whom the heart of Deerfoot mourns."
Without hesitating a moment, the Pawnee made answer:
"Lone Bear speaks with a single tongue; he can not tell where the pale-faced warrior is."
It might have been supposed that the Indian was trying to mislead Deerfoot, but the latter saw his meaning and understood that it was his anxiety to tell the truth which caused him to make answer as he did.
"How many suns ago did the Pawnee part with the pale-face?"
Lone Bear showed he was thinking. His brow wrinkled and he seemed to be looking at something a mile behind the Shawanoe. Then he began counting on his fingers, like a child solving some problem in addition. Seeing that Deerfoot was watching him, he held up his left hand, with his fingers spread apart, and touched them one after the other with the forefinger of the right, until he had checked off four, thereby indicating that four days or suns had elapsed since he had seen Otto Relstaub.
"What tribe bought him from the Pawnees?"
"The pale-face went with no warriors."
"With whom did he go?"
"The pale-face was in the woods alone."
This was astonishing information, for it implied that Otto, like Jack, had managed to escape from his captors; such, however, was not the case.
Deerfoot repressed all sign of deep interest as he plied Lone Bear with questions.
"Did the pale-face run away when the skies were dark, or was it when the sun was in the sky?"
"The sun was so high that when Lone Bear walked in the clearing it cast no shadow," replied the Pawnee, thereby signifying that Otto Relstaub disappeared at high noon. As it was clear that even the acute Deerfoot did not grasp the full story, Lone Bear attested his sincerity by adding:
"The youth whose face was pale became ill; he could not walk; the Pawnees lingered hours, hunting and fishing; but his face was white like the snow; he tried to rise, but fell down like a pappoose when its eyes first look on the day. Red Wolf raised his tomahawk to slay him, but Lone Bear stayed his arm. The Pawnees marched on and the pale-face lay on the leaves, white and ready to die."
There at last was the practical solution of the mystery. The Pawnees had not bartered off Otto with any other tribe, but were journeying homeward with him when he fell ill. His captors had tarried near him for a time, but instead of recovering he had grown weaker, until one of the Indians proposed to end the trouble by sinking his tomahawk in his brain. He had been prevented from doing so, and then the warriors had quietly moved on, leaving the poor youth to die alone unattended in the wilderness.
But had he in reality perished? That was the question which was to be answered, but in order to do so, it was necessary for Deerfoot to gain all the information he could from Lone Bear, who, in fact, was the only one that could give it. He therefore plied him with questions, until nothing more was left to tell. His revelation was pitiful indeed.
Without any sense of the pathetic side of the narrative, Lone Bear repeated his account of how, while they were moving at a leisurely pace, Otto fell ill. It happened to be late in the afternoon, and as the spot was favorable, the company went into camp. The poor fellow lay ill all night, and on the morrow was so pale and weak, that his captors believed he could not live many hours. Still they stayed in the neighborhood until noon, when they abandoned him to his fate. Believing he would not survive more than a few hours, Lone Bear and another warrior placed his gun beside him, covered most of his body with leaves, laid his hat over his face, and composed his limbs, as if for the grave. Otto seemed about to die, and showed no interest in the last sad rites, his eyes being closed when they departed.
Having obtained these particulars, Deerfoot learned another surprising fact—the point where Otto was abandoned to die, instead of being a long distance to the east, was full three days' journey in the opposite direction. That is to say, the Pawnees, after parting with the lad, had doubled on their own trail and were now the distance named from where it was supposed he had died.
The cause for this retrogression was the love of migratory life which is characteristic of the American race. The Pawnee villages, as I have stated, lay a long ways to the north-west, but among the party that had been on the long tramp, was a strong minority in favor of moving their town to the neighborhood of the river across which we have seen friends and foes pass so frequently. It abounded with game, had plenty of water, numerous fish, and its surface was undulating enough to suit their fancy. All this, no doubt, could be found in other places nearer home, but the stretch of open land which followed one side of the stream for a considerable distance, it may be said, was the deciding inducement. It was the ideal of a site for an aboriginal metropolis, for there was just enough land to put under cultivation to meet their simple wants.
The attractions of the locality formed the principal theme of discussion, until, when three days' journey from the river, the minority had become the majority, and it was decided to return and make a more thorough examination of the neighborhood. They were thus engaged, in their lazy fashion, when Deerfoot, Hay-uta and Jack Carleton overtook them, and the incidents already told followed.
By the time all this became known, the young Shawanoe felt that Lone Bear had nothing more to tell him. Otto Relstaub, if alive, was to be searched for many miles further toward the Rocky Mountains, though, if he was as ill as was represented, he must have succumbed long before.
While Deerfoot had no thought of breaking his pledge to the Pawnee, he was too prudent to trust him. Should he hand him back his weapons he might not attempt to injure the youth, but he would tell his comrades enough to lead them to do their utmost to thwart the purpose of Deerfoot and his friends.
"Let my brother listen," said the Shawanoe, stepping closer to him, as if to make his words more impressive. "When the sun is yonder," pointing to the horizon, "Lone Bear will come to this tree; he will look on the ground, and will draw the leaves aside; when he does so he will find his rifle, his knife and his tomahawk; his brothers shall never know they have been touched by Deerfoot!"
There was a certain chivalry in this proceeding, for it gave to Lone Bear the means of rejoining his friends without the humiliating confession he would be obliged to make if he appeared unarmed; for he could invent no fiction that would wholly conceal the truth. All that remained to do was to keep out of sight until sunset, when he could make his way to the spot, recover his weapons and go back with a story of the long reconnoissance that had held him away much longer than was anticipated.
Lone Bear thanked his conqueror for the regard shown him, and the Shawanoe strode off toward the main body of hostiles. He made no change in the route, until beyond sight of the Pawnee. Then he turned to the left, his course being part of the circumference of a large circle, until it brought him to the westward, or, as may be expressed, to the rear of the single enemy. He now approached the large tree which had served him so well. As he expected, Lone Bear was not in sight.
Deerfoot smiled as he stepped to the spot, and, bending over, laid the captured weapons on the ground and covered them with leaves, so as not to attract the notice of any one passing near. That done, he withdrew, the faint smile still playing around his mouth.
Having promised Lone Bear that his weapons should be given back to him in payment for his story (which the Shawanoe was satisfied was true), the conscientious young warrior would not allow any thing to prevent the fulfillment of his pledge; but he expected that when sunset came he would be many miles away, and it would be a grievous inconvenience to return. Much, therefore, was to be gained by this course. Again, Lone Bear, having no thought that his property would be given up by the Shawanoe before the time he had set, would not be likely to go near the tree until the close of the day. Then, when he was armed again, it would be too late for him to work Deerfoot ill. Possibly, however, he might take it into his head to return earlier; but the Shawanoe cared very little if he did, for even then he felt there was little, if any, cause for fear.
That which Deerfoot now wished to do was to proceed westward with all speed. He had learned from Lone Bear a description of the camp where Otto was left, so that he was confident he could find it with little trouble. Although considerable time had passed, yet when such a party moved through the wilderness they left a trail which could be followed a long time. Deerfoot was confident he and his friends could reach the spot in a couple of days, but his plan was that he should press on alone, leaving Hay-uta and Jack Carleton to follow at a pace more suitable to them. By putting forth his amazing speed, he knew that the three days' journey of the Pawnees could be covered between the rising and setting of a single sun.
Had he been alone, he would have crossed the river at once, and by the time night was closing in would have been many miles on his way; but the first step was to rejoin the Sauk and his young friend. A perfect understanding must exist between him and them, and that could be done only by an interview.
Furthermore, though a quiet seemed to hang over wood and river, it could not be doubted that Hay-uta and Jack were in much personal danger. They were on the same side of the stream with the hostiles who were hunting for them, and it would be no trifling matter to extricate themselves.
And again, Lone Bear would be sure to give a "pointer" to the rest of the warriors, by which they would suspect that the purpose of the little party was to push on and hunt for the boy that had been left alone to die in the woods. Thus, while Hay-uta and Jack were following their friend, the Pawnees would be trailing them and another curious complication of affairs was likely to result.
Deerfoot had seen enough, while along the river, to satisfy him that his friends were further down the stream than the hostiles whom they were seeking to avoid. His first step, therefore, was to circle to the left, so as to pass around the spot where he had seen them gather near their canoe. On his way, he discovered one of the scouts prowling through the wood; he easily avoided him and took care that his own presence was not suspected.
At the proper moment he emitted the signal, which in case the Sauk was listening, would be understood by him. It required great care, for more than likely some shrewd Pawnee would catch it up and turn it to account, as has been done times innumerable under similar circumstances.
There was no response, and Deerfoot did not repeat it until he had gone some distance further. Then the whistle was emitted in the same guarded manner, and almost immediately brought its reply. Fearful that the latter came from a foe, Deerfoot kept his position, and, with all his senses alert, indulged in some variations which were answered as only Hay-uta could answer them. All doubt being gone, Deerfoot now advanced unhesitatingly, and a minute or two later was with his friends.
The faces of the Sauk and Jack Carleton lightened up, when Deerfoot appeared, and warningly raised his finger for them to remain quiet. That he did not mean they were in imminent peril was shown when he said, as he took each hand in turn:
"Deerfoot is glad to look upon his brothers."
"And we needn't tell you how glad we are to see you, old fellow," responded Jack, modulating his voice to the same low key as that of the Shawanoe; "you were gone so long that we began to think we would have to hunt you up. Here, take these blamed things," he added, passing the bow and quiver to their owner; "I never was so glad so get rid of any thing."
The lad had shoved the hat of Otto Relstaub under his coat, where he meant to keep it from the sight of the Shawanoe until after hearing his story. The young warrior, convinced that no Indians were near, and that it would require an hour and probably more for the Pawnees to trace the little party, conversed freely.
The narrative, as may well be supposed, was one of transcendent interest to Jack Carleton, for it was the first definite knowledge obtained of his missing friend. The heart of the listener was filled with pitying sorrow when he learned how Otto had been left to die alone in the wilderness. Tears filled his eyes, his voice trembled, and he said:
"We know now that he was living a few days ago, but what hope is there that he has lasted this long? I am afraid that the most we can do is to give him burial—and we haven't the means to do even that very well."
The three seated themselves on the fallen tree near which the hat was found, and talked as freely as though no hostile was within a hundred leagues of them. The Sauk had little to say, a few words between him and Deerfoot being sufficient. Then, as if to allow them to talk unreservedly (though, of course, he could not understand any thing said), he walked a short distance away. He was just far enough removed to be visible to the two friends. His purpose was to mount guard while they conversed, though there was little need, for Deerfoot could never forget his vigilance.
When the touching story was ended, Jack looked at his friend and asked:
"Do you think he is dead?"
The young Shawanoe nodded his head.
"The Pawnees saw he was very ill; his face was like snow; he was weak; they laid his gun beside him and covered him with leaves."
"Why didn't they take the gun? It was worth a good deal, and the Indians hold such things in high value."
"When the Pawnees bury a warrior, they bury his weapons with him; they were afraid to take the gun; they covered his face with his hat——"
"Are you sure of that?" broke in Jack.
"Such were the words of Lone Bear, who spoke with a single tongue."
"If they left Otto three days' journey away, with his hat lying on his face, I should like to know how it comes to behere."
And Jack drew the article from under his coat, and handed it to Deerfoot. The latter did not conceal his astonishment, for he identified Otto's property at once. He asked his friend for the particulars, and received them.
Deerfoot's theory was overturned by this discovery, and it was beyond his power to explain the presence of the hat so far away from where the owner had been abandoned. It would be supposed that the discovery would throw discredit on the story told by Lone Bear, inasmuch as the two seemed irreconcilable; but such was not the case. Deerfoot did not doubt Lone Bear's words, and I make free to say just here, that subsequent discoveries proved that the vanquished Pawnee had not deviated from the truth in the first particular.
The active brain of the young Shawanoe grappled with the puzzling problem, and he was still unable to solve it, when the faint report of a gun was borne to the ears of himself and friends. It was so faint, indeed, that Jack Carleton just caught the sound, but it was as distinct to the warrior as if fired within a hundred yards.
I am aware that it sounds incredible when I state that the single report of the rifle, far away in the wilderness, as it was softly borne through the miles of intervening space, told the whole story to Deerfoot the Shawanoe; it solved the mystery; it made clear that which was hidden; he no longer saw through a glass darkly; the history of Otto Relstaub was as plain as if it had fallen from his own lips.
I repeat that it will seem incredible to the reader that such a thing could be true, but I shall soon make plain how it all came about.
The sound of the gun was from a point due south. Deerfoot having fixed it clearly in his mind, said something in a low voice to the Sauk, who had turned his head and was looking as if he expected some summons. Then, rising to his feet, he addressed Jack:
"The night will soon come; we must make haste."
"Ain't you going to search the ground for Otto's trail?" asked Jack, who had hoped that the powerful eyes of Deerfoot would reveal to him that which was hidden from the Sauk.
"There is no trail here," replied the Shawanoe, glancing at the ground, and walking away with a stride which seemed reckless, when it is remembered that the Pawnees were not far off. In fact, the course of the three took them close to the war party who were so clamorous for their scalps; but the task of flanking a company of hostiles was not difficult to Deerfoot. He let his friends know when the situation was delicate, and each used the utmost circumspection; but the young leader deviated so far to one side that he soon placed them in the rear.
Nearly half the day remained, and there was time to cover a great deal of ground. Deerfoot did not break into that loping trot which he could maintain from sunrise to sunset, but his strides were so long and rapid that Jack was on the point more than once of being forced into a run.
The Shawanoe so shaped his course that he passed the tree near which he had placed the rifle, tomahawk, and knife of Lone Bear. A glance showed him they were still there, and he smiled in his shadowy way, but held his peace. He did not tell his friends the story, knowing the panic-stricken Pawnee would not reclaim his weapons until the hour fixed—sunset.
Jack Carleton was well aware, from the manner of Deerfoot, that he was carrying out some theory of his own, though the boy failed to connect it with that far-away report of a rifle. He was far from suspecting the surprising truth. Nothing would have pleased him more than to have had the Shawanoe explain what line of policy he had adopted, but I have shown long ago that Deerfoot was inclined to keep such matters to himself until their truth or falsity was established. Jack knew better than to seek to draw any thing from him, and, since he was equally reserved toward Hay-uta, the young Kentuckian could not feel that he had any ground for impatience.
As they advanced, the ground became broken and rocky. Traveling was difficult—that is, to Jack Carleton—who bruised himself several times in his efforts to hold his own. He was on the point of protesting, when Deerfoot halted.
Hay-uta showed some signs of the severe strain to which he had been subjected. His chest rose and sank faster than usual, and his dusky countenance was slightly flushed. Jack's face was aglow; he breathed hard and fast, and felt as though he would like to sit down and rest a few hours. But Deerfoot was as unruffled as if he had walked only a mile or two at a leisurely pace.
And yet a crisis was at hand. There was something in the eyes and face of the Shawanoe which showed a consciousness that they were near the end: within the following few hours it would come.
Deerfoot pointed to a ridge a short distance to the south. The top was rocky and precipitous, and the trees and vegetation were so scarce that the rugged baldness could be seen a long ways through the woods.
"The Sauk will hunt fromthere to there," said the Shawanoe, indicating a spot a quarter of a mile to the south, and pointing by the sweep of his arm to another almost opposite where they stood. "Deerfoot will hunt fromthere to there," he added, marking out a similar, though more extensive field, in the other direction.
"And what amIto do?" asked Jack, half amused and just a little provoked at what he knew was coming.
"My brother's legs are weary; they want rest; let him sit down and wait till Deerfoot and Hay-uta come back to him."
"The same old dodge!" exclaimed the lad. "I would give a good deal if some one would explain why in the mischief I was brought along with this party anyhow."
"My brother is gentle-hearted; his voice is soft as that of the pappoose when it laughs in its mother's eyes; his face is beautiful; the hearts of Hay-uta and Deerfoot are sad, but when they look into the face of their brother their hearts become light and they feel strong."
This was the most extensive joke in the way of a remark that Deerfoot had ever been known to originate. Jack Carleton saw his slight smile and the twinkle of his black eyes, and knew he was quizzing him. Assuming a seriousness which deceived no one, the doughty Kentuckian deliberately leaned his gun against the nearest tree, pretended to roll up his sleeves, spat on his hands, rubbed them together and clenched them and advanced threateningly upon the Shawanoe. The latter feigned alarm, and, ducking his head, as if to dodge the threatened blow, ran away so swiftly that before Jack could take more than half a dozen steps in pursuit, he was out of sight.
Hay-uta could not be considered handsome, but the smile which lighted up his features made them interesting, to say the least. When he grinned, he did so to the extent of his ability, which was considerable in that direction.
But the Sauk had been assigned to an important duty, and the Shawanoe having departed, he did not linger. He waved a parting salute to Jack Carleton, who, a few minutes later, found himself alone, much the same as he had been left when Shawanoe and Sauk crossed the river to reconnoiter the Pawnee camp.
"There's one thing certain," he said to himself, recalling the parallelism, "whatever happens, I won't be caught as I was then; I'm not going to climb a tree, and I mean to hold fast to my gun; but we have come so far from the river that we must be a long ways from that party of Pawnees, unless," he reflected, glancing to the rear, "they have struck our trail and have followed hard after us."
The possibility of such danger was not great, but Jack Carleton changed his position to one where he could keep a better lookout, with less danger of discovery. He was sure his friends would not be absent a long time, and he meant to avoid embarrassing their action.
"It was the sound of that gun which led Deerfoot to come all this way. I wonder what it can mean."
Jack had got this far in his meditation, when he heard a footfall near him, and, just as he turned his head, a familiar voice called out:
"Helloa, Shack, ish dot you?"
The amazement of Jack Carleton, when he recognized the figure before him, was beyond description. It was Otto Relstaub—the same honest German lad from whom he parted weeks previous when the two were captives in the hands of the wandering Sauks, the divisions of which took such different directions. It was the same lad—the only noticeable difference being that he was bareheaded and his garments were much frayed and torn. He held his gun in his right hand, the stock resting on the ground, while he looked with a half-inquiring expression, as if doubting the identity of the young Kentuckian who had come such a distance to help restore him to his friends. But a second stare satisfied both, and rushing toward each other, they shook hands, laughed and cried for very joy, their expressions disjointed and only clear in their evidence of the delight which overflowed in their hearts.
"Oh, I forgot!" exclaimed Jack, drawing Otto's hat from under his coat and slapping it on the yellow crown of his friend; "here's something which belongs to you."
"Vere did you got him?" asked Otto, taking it from his head and inspecting it. "I never dinks I would sees him agin."
Jack gave the particulars which the reader learned long ago, adding an account of the efforts made by Deerfoot and the Sauk to trace him, and of the despair all felt when they were told the captive had been left to die alone in the woods.
"I never expected to meet you again," said Jack, "and I couldn't understand why it was Deerfoot had any hope."
"'Cause heknowed," was the truthful remark.
"But what was the matter with you? You must have got well in a hurry."
Otto threw back his head and laughed in his old-fashioned, hearty style, adding:
"Do you dinks I vosverysick?"
And then the lad told his strange story, which perhaps you would prefer to hear in a little better accent than that of the narrator.
The statement made to Deerfoot by Lone Bear only a few hours before was shown to be accurate in every particular by the narrative of Otto himself, but it had a phase which neither Lone Bear nor any of his comrades suspected.
The Sauks who wandered away from their fellows, taking Otto along as their prisoner, met the Pawnees, who, as the reader well knows, were a long ways from home. Otto was bartered to them, and his captors continued toward their village, many days' journey to the north and west. They went at a moderate pace, stopping and hunting by the way and making themselves familiar with the country, with a view of removing their lodges thither, provided they could find a satisfactory place.
They were many hours on this dismal tramp when Otto asked himself whether it would not be as well to give up all thought of returning home, and of becoming one of the people into whose hands he had fallen. The hardship imposed by his parents impelled him to such a course, and, more than once, he decided not to make any effort to leave the Pawnees, even if a good opportunity offered. Had it not been for Jack Carleton and his kind mother he probably would have become an adopted Pawnee.
But, as the distance between him and his humble cabin in far away Martinsville increased, a feeling of homesickness crept over him until he was utterly miserable. He finally reached the resolve that he would never rest until he was back again in the log cabin near the banks of the Mississippi; no matter how oppressive his lot, it washome, and that was preferable to a gilded palace.
The prisoner in the dungeon finds no difficulty in making up his mind to leave; the insurmountable task is to carry out his intention; and the days and nights passed without the first glimmer of hope appearing in the sky of Otto Relstaub.
Several times he saw chances which he believed would enable him to get away, but he feared the inevitable pursuit. He was so many miles from home that the most laborious tramping would be required for many days, even if able to proceed in a direct line.
It was this dread which prevented such an attempt on the part of Otto, while his homesickness increased until his appetite vanished and his looks were woe-begone. While in this pitiful condition the poor fellow asked himself whether he could not feign illness to such a degree that his captors would abandon him to die.
The probabilities pointed the other way. In the first place the Pawnees were quite certain to perceive the sham, and, in case they were deceived, they were likely to tomahawk Otto so as to end the annoyance. These two considerations kept him plodding along with the party, which, fortunately for him, progressed slowly.
But while the youth's physical condition was not bad enough to deceive the Indians, he became desperate, and determined to take the first opportunity that presented itself. Within an hour he found a chance to pilfer some tobacco belonging to Lone Bear. He did so with such care that he was not suspected. Straightway he swallowed it, and I need not say that it was unnecessary for Otto to pretend he was ill; he was never in such a state of collapse in his life.
His deathly paleness convinced the Pawnees that their captive was at death's door. They urged him to walk, but he could not, and they stayed in camp longer than was intended, in the hope that the patient would rally.
Otto showed a good deal of pluck when, finding himself recovering, he resolutely swallowed some more of the poisonous weed and soon became so prostrated that he really believed his last hour was at hand. He was in great danger, for the nicotine threatened the seat of life, and Otto lost interest in every thing, feeling that it would be a relief to perish and end his misery.
This was his condition when the Pawnees formed the opinion that he could not live more than an hour or two at the most. Accordingly, they covered him with leaves, laid his hat over his face, and, placing his gun beside him, went off. The youth lay hovering, as it seemed, between life and death. While in that condition, he detected a footfall near him. He was able to turn his head, but could not move his body. He recognized Red Wolf, who was standing a few steps away, knife in hand. He had returned to take the scalp of the dying lad, and would have done so, had not Lone Bear, coming from another direction, interfered. By some argument he led the other to change his mind, and both walked away.
From that moment reaction set in, and Otto rallied fast. It was beginning to grow dark, and he was soon shut in by impenetrable gloom. Fearful that Red Wolf or some one else would steal upon him in the night, he crept deeper into the wood, where he knew he could not be found when the sun was not shining.
Although his rugged system rapidly threw off the nicotine poisoning, he was weak and dizzy. He gained a few hours sleep before morning, but was awake at the earliest streakings of light and started on his return.
Otto Relstaub's previous experience in the woods now served him well. He discovered that the war party, instead of continuing westward, were retrograding and doubling on their own trail. He suspected the true reason they were prospecting for a new site for their villages. He had judged from their actions that something of the kind was in their thoughts.
As the course of the lad lay in the same direction, he wisely chose to deviate until he was far off their trail, so as to avoid any risk of them.
Otto's deliverance from captivity was singular indeed, but he was too wise to consider it complete until certain that such was the case. He feared that Red Wolf or some of his comrades would return to the spot where he had been abandoned; and, discovering the trick, instantly pursue him.
He therefore devoted many hours to elaborate efforts to obliterate his own trail, or to shape it so that even a bloodhound could not track him. He crossed all the streams he could, wading long distances through the water where the depth was too great to permit his footprints to be seen. When he finally emerged, he often did so on the same side which he entered, perhaps repeating his maneuver once or twice before leaving the stream by the opposite bank.
This played havoc with Otto's garments, which were torn and injured until it looked doubtful whether they would last him through his journey. Sometimes, while walking where the water was only a little above his knees, he would abruptly step into that which was six or eight feet deep, but he always reached bottom.
During the first day, when the vigorous system of the fugitive demanded food, and he saw the chance of bringing down a wild turkey which trotted swiftly across his path, he refrained through fear that the report of his gun would betray him. He ate a few berries that seemed to have lived over from the preceding winter (the season being rather early for any thing of the kind to have grown since), chewed some tender buds, and lying down at night, thanked heaven he felt so well.
Reaching the bank of the river across which his friends had passed several times, he felt the opportunity for which he longed had come.
With much labor, he succeeded in constructing a raft sufficiently buoyant to float him without resting any part of his body in the water. Pushing this out into the stream, he drifted fully three miles, gradually working the support toward the further shore.
"Dere," he exclaimed, when he stepped out on land, "dey won't find my tracks if dey don't look all summer."