The Indian warrior was the picture of ferocity, as he crouched a few steps away, and, with his fingers griping the handle of his knife, slowly drew it from the skin sheath at his girdle. The end of his abstraction was the resolution to slay his captive then and there.
But, as the plucky youth faced the fierce red man and looked him in the eye, he saw another form rising to view in his field of vision. It was that of a warrior who slowly appeared behind the first, as if lifted upward from the ground, and peeped over his shoulder into the face of Jack Carleton. So perfect was the silence which marked the extraordinary manifestation, that it was like the shadow made by the firelight itself.
Just beyond and a little to one side of the second form, a third came to view, dimly revealed by the lesser firelight, but with a stillness of movement as absolute as that of the other. Had it been otherwise, the redskin would have discovered their approach.
The third Indian, indistinctly shown in the yellow glow, was recognized by Jack as the Sauk Hay-uta; the second was Deerfoot the Shawanoe. The latter smiled in his shadowy way, and shook one finger as a warning to his friend not to betray the presence of himself and companion.
Looking in the face of his foe, as though addressing him, the lad said:
"It's all right; the next time I wish you would not be so slow in getting here; if you'll keep still, I'll give this rascal a tussle that he don't expect."
The warrior must have thought it strange to be addressed in that fashion, and he must have noticed, too, the smile and flitting glances of his victim, but he could not have suspected the meaning of either, or he would have faced the other way.
With a partially suppressed shout, he stooped, as if gathering his muscles, and then, like a lion on the edge of a chasm, he made a terrific bound at the captive.
But he didn't reach him. A quick blow of the upraised arm sent his knife spinning in the darkness, and a dexterous flirt of Deerfoot's moccasin in front of the foot of the Indian, flung him headlong, after the manner of a beginner taking a header from his bicycle. His discomfiture was more complete than that of Lone Bear while pursuing the Shawanoe, for not only was he thrown forward with great violence, but (as was the case with Hay-uta, when he attacked Deerfoot), the knife was knocked from his grasp, by a blow so cleverly given that it seemed to have fractured his forearm.
Using mild language again, it might be said that the warrior was surprised. Whatever the cause of his overthrow, he could not mistake its meaning; it notified him that he ought to leave the spot without any tarrying. Fortunately, he had enough sense to do so. Despite the stinging pain in his arm, he scrambled to his feet, glanced over his shoulder, and seeing two strange Indians, darted off like a deer, vanishing among the trees with a suddenness which, it is safe to say, he never equaled before or afterward.
"What a good fellow you would be to figure in a story!" exclaimed the delighted Jack Carleton, wringing the hand of Deerfoot, and feeling as though he would like to fling his arms around his neck and embrace him.
The Shawanoe evidently was in good spirits, for his even white teeth showed between his lips, and his handsome black eyes sparkled in the firelight. He enjoyed the figure the Indian cut when charging upon his captive.
"My brother speaks words which Deerfoot does not know."
"What I mean to say is, that you have such a way of turning up when you're wanted very bad, that you're just the scamp to figure in a lot of story books; I wonder whether some simpleton won't undertake to use you that way. The only trouble will be that if he invents yarns about you, he'll make a fizzle of it, and, if he tells the truth, he will hardly be believed; but," added the youth, as if the mantle of prophecy had fallen on him, "it will depend a good deal on who it is that writes your life. Like enough it will be some fellow who won't be credited, no matter what he says—so he will be apt to pile it on."
Although Deerfoot possessed a good knowledge of the English language, he failed to understand his young friend, and awaited his explanation.
Meanwhile Hay-uta came forward and shook hands with Jack, muttering a word or two in broken English, expressive of his pleasure over his good fortune.
"What I meant to say," added the lad, turning again to Deerfoot, "is, that you've got such a habit of dropping down on your friends when they are in trouble, that some day it will be put in a book, just as your Bible is printed."
"Put Deerfoot in a book!" repeated the young Shawanoe, blushing like a school-girl; "he who will do that will be a fool!"
"Like enough," replied Jack, with a laugh; "but all the same, he will come along one of these days, long after you and I are dead."
"How will he know any thing of Deerfoot?" asked the young warrior, with a dismay as great as that of other parties since then who, contemplating such a calamity, have burned their private letters and papers; "if Deerfoot is dead, who shall tell him any thing about him?"
"Why, my dear fellow," laughed his young friend; "don't you know that Ned Preston, Wild Blossom Brown, and all the folks over in Kentucky who know you, will tell their friends and children what you have done; and here on this side the river it will be the same; till some time it will all be gathered together and put in a book that will be read by hundreds and thousands of people not born?"
Deerfoot showed by his expression that he did not fully understand the meaning of his young friend, or, if he did, he believed he was jesting. The idea of him ever figuring on the printed page could not be credited. He smiled and shook his head, as though he wished to talk of something else.
The young Shawanoe, as a matter of course, was the director of all the movements of the little party, and he now said that it was best to leave the spot and spend the night somewhere else. The Indian to whom they had given such a scare might steal back, when he judged the three were asleep and take revenge.
"He hasn't any gun," remarked Jack, who had picked up his own weapon which the other left behind him, "so he can't shoot us."
"He has a tomahawk and knife—them he would use, though he had a rifle as good as Hay-uta's."
"How was it, Deerfoot, that that Indian was roaming through the woods on this side of the river, without a gun?"
The Shawanoe shook his head to signify he did not know: it was, to say the least, a curious incident.
"I thought possibly he was a stranger to the war party across the river; he acted as though he was afraid they would see him."
"He is a Pawnee," observed Deerfoot, who had gained a view of him, "and is one of their best warriors."
"Why, then, should he act as he did? You must have some explanation even though you can't be sure."
"He was a passionate warrior; he may not have been rightthere," said Deerfoot, touching his finger to his forehead; "perhaps he was so evil the Great Spirit placed darkness where there was light."
"But when an Indian is unfortunate enough to be unbalanced in mind, the others become more kind to him than before; he would have no need to be afraid of them."
The Shawanoe reminded Jack that the stranger might hold the rest of his people in mortal fear, without having cause for doing so.
The Kentuckian was inclined to accept this explanation, and he told how curiously the other had acted from the beginning, and especially into what a reverie he sank while sitting near the fire.
But when Jack Carleton had convinced himself on this point, Deerfoot chose to express doubt. To him it seemed more probable that the Indian had had a quarrel with his tribe, or had committed some offense for which he was proscribed. It was not unlikely that one feature of his punishment was that he should go forth into the wilderness without firearms. When he sat by the camp-fire, he was doubtless meditating over the wrongs he had suffered, and when his passion flamed out, he sprang to his feet to kill the youth who had done him no wrong.
"I know one thing," said Jack, compressing his lips and shaking his head, "I wouldn't have stood still and allowed him to work his pleasure with his knife; I almost wish you had let him come on."
The Shawanoe gravely dissented.
"My brother is brave, but he could not prevail against the fierce Pawnee; he might have saved his own life, but his wounds would have hurt;nowhe has no wounds."
"May be you're right, Deerfoot; you know more about the woods in one minute than I'll ever know in a lifetime; so I'll drop the subject."
Jack asked his friend about the experience of himself and Hay-uta on the other side the stream, and Deerfoot gave a summary of what had befallen them. When he recalled the overthrow of Lone Bear the first time, and afterward of him and Red Wolf, he laughed with a heartiness which brought a smile to the faces of Jack and Hay-uta. The sight of Red Wolf as he plunged into the river, his head down and feet pointed toward the sky seemed to delight the young warrior, who shook with silent laughter.
The Shawanoe never displayed his woodcraft in a more marked degree than at the moment he was telling his story and enjoying the picture he drew. While he seemed to be lost in mirth, Jack Carleton noticed, what he had seen before, his eyes flitted hither and thither, and occasionally behind him, and, between his words and laughter, he listened with an intentness that would have noted the falling of a leaf. Subtle would that foe have had to be in order to steal up to those who seemed to be thinking of every thing except personal danger.
Jack Carleton had learned that neither of his friends had gained any tidings of Otto Relstaub. At the fount where the Shawanoe expected to receive knowledge, he was shut out as though by an iron door. Not a word, hint or look had given them so much as a glimmer of light.
It was certain, however, that Deerfoot held some theory of his own to explain this phase of the difficulty which confronted them, and no one could travel so close to truth as he; but when asked his opinion, he would not give it. He shook his head to signify that he preferred to hold his peace on the matter, and Jack knew him too well to press him.
Hay-uta was impatient to leave the place, for it was manifest he did not like the spot. Nothing seemed more likely than that the warrior whom they had used so ill would do his utmost to revenge himself. It is as much a part of Indian nature to "get even" with an enemy, as it is the rule and guide of multitudes of those around us, who see nothing inconsistent between the spirit of the Christianity they profess and the revengeful disposition shown toward those who, in some way or other, have given them offense.
The spot fixed upon by the Shawanoe was fully a third of a mile from the camp-fire kindled by the strange Indian. It was in a hollow, through which ran a small stream of water, and where the undergrowth and vegetation were so dense that the flames which were started would not have attracted notice five rods away.
You will remember that it was just such a place as was a favorite with Deerfoot. It had attracted his notice during the day, while they were pushing westward, and it was an easy matter for him to lead the others back to it when the darkness among the trees was almost impenetrable.
Several facts, more or less pleasant, impressed Jack Carleton. One was that their camp was so secure from discovery that all three could sleep without misgiving. Their tramp through the wood had been conducted with such stealth that it was impossible for any one to have seen them, and of course it was beyond the power of an enemy to trail them except by the aid of daylight.
A fact less pleasant, was the absence of provisions. It was a goodly number of hours since they had eaten, and the Kentuckian possessed an appetite such as young gentlemen of his age, who spend much of their time out doors, invariably own. It must not be supposed that either the Sauk or Shawanoe were deficient in that respect, but they were used to privation, and seemed to feel no discomfort. Jack Carleton was sure that Deerfoot often went without food when he could have secured it, for no other purpose than that of retaining mastery over himself.
"I suppose it is a good way," muttered the discontented youth, stretching himself out for the night, "but it don't agree with my constitution. They needn't think they're going to make me whine," he added, with grim resolution. "I'll starve before I'll askthemfor any thing to eat."
He became interested in his companions, however, and, as is the rule, when the usual hour for eating passed his hunger grew less.
Deerfoot leaned his long bow against the trunk of the nearest tree, his quiver lying at the base, and assumed an indolent attitude, his face toward the fire. The upper part of his body was supported on his left elbow, which held his Bible so that the firelight fell upon the printed page. The print was small, the light bad, and it came from the wrong direction, but the strong vision of the young Shawanoe read it as easily as if under the glare of the noonday sun.
Half way to the opposite side of the fire was stretched the Sauk, his posture precisely the same as that of Deerfoot, except that he rested on his right elbow. Their feet, therefore, were turned toward each other. His eyes were fixed on the face of the Shawanoe, who was reading the marvelous volume, and shaping its words into the tongue which Hay-uta could understand. Eliot, the Indian apostle, translated the whole Bible, and his work was one of the most striking ever done by man, but he put into the American tongue those truths into which he had been trained and with which he had been familiar for years—the character of the labor was immeasurably changed when the interpretation was made by an Indian to one of his own race.
Deerfoot, as he had done before, would read a verse or two in a low tone to himself, and then, looking across to his companion, explain as best he could their meaning. Now and then Hay-uta asked something, and occasionally Deerfoot faintly smiled as he answered.
The Kentuckian watched the Shawanoe with as much interest as did the Sauk, and, though his emotions were different, his wonder and admiration were fully as great.
"He is the most remarkable Indian that ever lived," was the thought which stirred the heart of Jack Carleton, as it had done many a time before; "Hay-uta is in the prime of life, larger, stronger, and he has always been a fighter; he did his best to kill Deerfoot, but he was vanquished as though he was only a child. A short time ago they were striking at each other like a couple of wild cats, and now they are talking about the One who taught men to forgive their enemies; they would die for each other. It's no use," added Jack, shutting his lips tight and shaking his head, as was his habit, when doubt was removed, "there is something in that religion which can tame a little fury like Deerfoot was, and make savages as gentle as lambs."
By and by the senses of the youth began to dull, and drowsiness crept over him. The last recollection was the figures of the two Indians stretched out in front of the camp-fire, one reading and the other listening with rapt attention. The hum and murmur of voices was in his ears when slumber gently closed his eyelids.
His awaking was pleasant. The sun was above the horizon, the sky was clear and the air was balmy. The warm season was at hand, but it had not fully set in, and, under the shade of the towering trees, the coolness was delightful. Birds were singing and the brightness and cheerfulness which pervaded nature every where was like that which makes us fling our hats in air and shout for joy.
Jack appreciated all this, but there was something else which filled his being with more eager delight. The air was laden with the odor of broiling fish, and if there is any thing more fragrant to the senses of a hungry person, I have never been able to learn what it is.
Leaving the sleeper where he lay on his blanket by the fire, Hay-uta and Deerfoot had stolen out to the river, from which it required but a few minutes to coax a number of toothsome fish. These were cleaned, spitted, and broiled over the coals raked from the camp-fire.
The Shawanoe had traveled with the Kentuckian long enough to gauge his appetite accurately, and thus it came about that when Jack Carleton ceased eating, he had all that he wished, and in reply to the question of Deerfoot, said he was ready to go through the day without any thing more.
"Deerfoot," said the youth, placing his hand on his shoulder, and looking him earnestly in the eye, "where is Otto Relstaub?"
The Shawanoe gave him a reproving glance, as he answered:
"Deerfoot does not know; the Great Spirit has not told him."
"I understand well enough that none knows or can know where the poor fellow is, nor whether he is alive or dead; but you have done a good deal of hunting, and, though you found out nothing yesterday, yet you have formed some theory; what I want to know, therefore, is your belief."
Deerfoot began examining his bow, as if to assure himself it was ready for some use which he seemed to think was close at hand. He gave no answer to the question, and acted as though he had not heard it. Determined that he should not have such an excuse, Jack repeated his inquiry with more directness than before.
The young Shawanoe could not ignore him. Pausing a moment in his inspection of his weapon, he looked gravely at his young friend and shook his head. Whether he meant to imply that he knew nothing, had no theory, or believed that Otto was beyond the reach of help, was left to Jack himself to decide. The action of Deerfoot, however, proved that he had not yet despaired of the missing youth; for, without any hesitancy, he announced that they would make their way to the river again, and crossing over, continue their search on the other shore.
"There's some comfort inthat," was the conclusion of Jack; "so long as he believes a chance remains, so long shall I not despair."
The fact that Deerfoot meant to take his friend with him, looked as though he had decided to push the search a long ways beyond the river. Jack succeeded at last in drawing from him his belief that Otto was not in the custody of the party with whom they had had the difficulty the day previous. That, however, was not an important admission, for the young Kentuckian had come to the same belief long before, and it did not help clear up the mystery as to the whereabouts of the missing boy. Deerfoot went somewhat further, and expressed the hope, rather than the belief, that Otto was alive. When Jack asked him whether it was not likely he had been transferred to the custody of other parties, the Shawanoe again shook his head, as he did when the same thing was said before.
There could be no doubt that he had a theory of his own which he did not make known even to Hay-uta. Jack could not extract the least hint, nor could he guess what it was, (and I can not forbear saying, just here, that, though the Shawanoe was far from knowing the whole truth, he suspected a part of it, as will appear all in due time).
The spot where the three had encamped was about a furlong from the river, and to the latter all three made their way without special care or haste. Jack Carleton felt complimented that Deerfoot meant he should bear them company in the renewal of the effort to find Otto Relstaub.
But a disappointment was at hand. When they reached the stream, Deerfoot would not cross until after a careful reconnoissance. He had approached the river at a point above where the Pawnees held camp the evening before. He meant that if the passage was effected, it should be without risk of discovery from their enemies.
It must be admitted that the situation was a peculiar one in more than one respect. First of all, there was no reason to believe the Pawnees were aware that the two strange Indians who created such a turmoil had recrossed the river, nor was it known that the hostiles themselves were in the neighborhood. Besides, the warrior who made Jack prisoner the evening previous was playing a singular part in the proceedings. There was no telling where he was at that moment, nor when he would turn up again. Added to this, was the absolute ignorance about Otto Relstaub. If they could have gained some inkling of the disposition made of him (for there could be no doubt that the warriors identified by the Sauk knew all about it), the hunt could be forced to a conclusion, one way or the other, within a few hours.
Directing Hay-uta and Jack Carleton to remain for the present where they were, the Shawanoe said he would swim over and examine the vicinity, before allowing his friends to join him in the final search for the lad. This was such a radical change of purpose that Jack was impatient. He did not hesitate to ask for an explanation; but he quickly learned that impatience, anger or dictation availed nothing with the young Shawanoe. He was afraid of no one, and if he chose to keep his thoughts to himself, it mattered naught whether it gave pleasure or offense to others.
Before attempting the passage, Deerfoot ranged up and down the stream for a considerable distance, scrutinizing the belt of open land on the other shore, and the woods beyond. Not a vestige of the Pawnees was to be seen. Then he climbed a tree, and from the top looked off over the country for a space of many miles. He hoped to detect the faint stains left in the atmosphere by the camp-fire of the hostiles, but he was disappointed in that also. Had he not learned the contrary the previous night, he could have believed that he was the first human being whose feet had ever pressed that solitude.
The Shawanoe was too subtle a woodman to forget any point of the compass. It was not impossible that the Pawnees, angered by the indignities and the disappointments they had suffered at the hands of the young warrior and his companions, had tried to flank them. They were not all cowards, and though some of them looked upon the phenomenal youth as an evil spirit, there were others who must have known him as he was, and who were eager for the chance to bring him low by means of their rifles.
Deerfoot's survey of the opposite shore was ended; but whether it was satisfactory to himself or not, could be learned only by questioning him. Jack Carleton took good care not to do that. He had never seen the young Shawanoe so reserved, and having once been denied the knowledge he sought, he left his friend to work in his own way.
It looked to Jack as if the Shawanoe was seeking to wrap more mystery than usual around himself, for when he came back to his friends, he took off his quiver of arrows and placed it and his bow in their charge, thus showing his purpose to leave them behind in the business in which he was about to engage. It certainly was inconvenient to swim the river with them, and, in spite of the care and skill of the owner, it was impossible to reach land with bow and arrows in the best condition. Furthermore, they rendered him too conspicuous. No doubt some of the Pawnees were near at hand, even though no signs were discovered, and if the Shawanoe carried his weapons, his venture was likely to be defeated at the beginning.
"Let my brother open his eyes," said he, after a few words with the Sauk, which, of course, were not intelligible to Jack Carleton, "the Pawnees are not far."
"I will do my best to guard against surprise," replied the young Kentuckian, "and with Hay-uta as my friend, I am sure we shall take care of ourselves."
"Deerfoot cannot say when he will come back," added the warrior, looking toward the river, as though expecting to catch sight of some clew among the leaves and branches, "but he hopes to be with his friend before the sun is overhead."
This was the only farewell uttered by the Shawanoe, who walked to the undergrowth which lined the shore and overhung the water. He entered the latter like a diving-bell, whose enormous weight causes it to sink silently and swiftly to the bottom.
"Hay-uta, let's watch him," said Jack, moving carefully to the margin of the river, from which they could peer out without detection. The Sauk could comprehend the action of the boy, though not his words, and I am warranted in saying that his curiosity was equal to that of his companion, when he gazed through the leafy interstices upon the river.
The Shawanoe now gave an example of his amazing skill in the water, such as Jack Carleton had never seen before. He remembered the dexterity which he displayed in towing the canoe across the Mississippi, with Jack and Otto in it, and with the Indians along shore blazing away with their rifles; he had seen the youth disport himself in a way that no one else could equal, but on none of these occasions were his achievements so extraordinary as when he let himself into the river, passed under the surface, and vanished from sight.
Jack Carleton had heard of his exploit in sinking to the bottom of the Ohio in a large iron kettle let over the side of the flatboat, and of his swimming to shore behind the canoe in which sat Tecumseh, but it now looked to him as if he were passing the entire distance—more than a hundred yards—beneath the surface.
"That can not be," said the lad to himself, when he reflected on the time it must take to proceed that far; "no human being can hold his breath long enough to go more than half the distance, and I don't believe he can go even that far."
There was scarcely a zephyr stirring, so that the rapidly flowing river was without wavelet or disturbance. As none of us is amphibious, the most skillful swimmer must seek the air at brief intervals, and, knowing where the Shawanoe had entered, Jack fixed on the point in the river where he would be likely to rise. He knew that, of course, when he did so it would be only his nose which would appear. Anyone on the shore would not suspect the meaning of such appearance unless previous knowledge had awakened expectation, but the closest scrutiny of Jack failed to see the slightest ripple, such, as would have been made by the dropping of a pebble into the river. The lad was right, beyond all question, when he concluded that, wherever Deerfoot came up for air, it was a long ways from the spot on which he had fixed his attention.
Glancing at Hay-uta bending forward at his side, he observed that his scrutiny of the stream was as close as his own. He had, in fact, made the same guess as the pale-face youth, but with a more profound belief in the prodigious capacity of the Shawanoe, he fixed upon a point further down stream and closer to the other bank for his reappearance; but the seconds lengthened into minutes and nothing was seen. The wing of the flitting insect, had it glanced against the surface, would have caused a crinkle or two which the watchful eyes of the Sauk would have detected, but as it was, his vision, roaming back and forth, and here and there over the calm surface, saw no sign that any thing of the kind had taken place.
At the moment of greatest wonderment, both watchers were startled by the leap of a small fish, which sprang a foot or two into the air, flashing like silver in the sunlight, and then fell back. The first belief of the spectators was that this was their friend, but the truth was immediately apparent.
Jack Carleton was on the point of giving up, when the Sauk touched his arm and uttered an exclamation. He was pointing to the other shore, his extended finger indicating a tree which grew out almost horizontally over the river, for a distance of eight or ten feet and then curved upward like the runner of a sleigh.
As he looked he saw Deerfoot in the act of drawing himself out of the water. With one hand he raised himself upon the twisted trunk, along which he crept into the wood beyond, never making the least salutation to his friends, who he might have known were watching for him.
"By gracious!" exclaimed Jack. "He swam the whole distance under water! he can beat a fish!"
It is not to be supposed that Deerfoot accomplished this feat, for it was beyond the range of human attainment; but he did swim the distance with only a single rise if such it may be termed when the tip of his nose gently came up long enough to empty his lungs of their hot air, and take in another draught of the life-giving element. That he should do this under the eyes, as may be said, of two watchers, without their detection, was not the least remarkable part of his performance.
Jack would have given much had he and Hay-uta possessed the power of talking to each other. The Indian was one of the best warriors of his tribe, and had formed a peculiar affection for the young Shawanoe. More than likely he held some well-founded suspicions of the real reason which led Deerfoot to make his curious trip across the river, and between the two the truth might be brought out.
Deerfoot having disappeared, it was idle to watch the river any longer, and the two withdrew a step or two and sat on the ground, there to await the Shawanoe.
"I don't suppose I shall have time to teach him the English language," thought Jack, surveying his companion, who lolled on the ground as though he meant to put in an hour or two of sleep; "and I'm sure he won't be able to make much headway with me. I spent some weeks visiting the Sauks (that is on their invitation), and never was able to get hold of more than a dozen or so of their outlandish words, but there isn't one of them that can be turned to account just now. So I'll wait till Deerfoot tells the story for himself."
Probably twenty minutes had gone by, when the stillness was broken by the report of a gun. It was from the other shore, and sounded so faint that it must have been fully half a mile inland. Hay-uta started up, and looking sharply at Jack, raised his hand for him to keep silent. No need of that, for the youth was listening as well as he. In the course of a few minutes Hay-uta rose and went to the river shore, where he stayed some time, peering out over the surface, but he came back without having seen any thing unusual, nor did the two hear another sound of a gun.
"It would be strange," thought Jack Carleton, "if that rifle killed Deerfoot; the tiniest bullet, if rightly aimed, will do it, and great as is his skill it can not protect him against treachery. As mother says, his time will come sooner or later, but none of us can tell when, anymore than we can name the hour appointed for us to die."
Except for the slight disturbance named, the Sauk would have fallen into slumber, but all such disposition was now gone. Seating himself on the ground, he began examining the bow and arrows which had been left in their charge. Finding it somewhat awkward to do so while in the sitting position, he rose to his feet, and Jack placed himself at his side as if to give help, should it be needed.
Perhaps it should be said that Jack Carleton knew one or two interesting facts regarding Deerfoot not yet known to the reader. In the first place, the Shawanoe was the owner of at least two bows, nearly as long as himself and possessing tremendous power. That which the Sauk held in charge was of mountain ash, made in the usual fashion, the cord being composed of deer sinew, woven as fine and almost as strong as steel wire. The center-piece was round and had been polished hard and smooth by the friction of the Shawanoe's right hand, which had grasped it so many times. The entire bow had been stained a dark cherry color, its proportions being so symmetrical that it would have been admired by any one.
When picked from the ground the bow was unstrung. Hay-uta carefully bent it over and slipped the noose in place on the notched end. Then, after examining one of the feather-tipped arrows, he fitted it in place and looked around for some target at which to discharge it.
Jack motioned to him to wait a moment while he furnished the mark desired. Running toward the most open part of the wood, he broke a branch and hung his cap on the stump, the distance being perhaps twenty yards. Jack would have made it greater, but for the interference of the vegetation.
The Sauk looked at the target a minute or two, then at the bow, and fitting the end of the arrow against the string, he slowly raised the weapon and took aim. Jack stepped back eight or ten feet, so as to be out of danger, and watched the result.
"I don't believe he can hit it, but like enough he will skewer my cap, which I ain't anxious to have done."
The Sauk held the bow slanting in front of him, just as he had seen the owner do, and he took long and careful aim. He formed a striking figure, his pose being graceful and correct. Unlike the Shawanoe, he was right-handed, as was Jack. His left foot was a little in advance of the right, the toe of the moccasin pointed in the same direction as the arrow, while the right foot was turned slightly outward. The left hand grasped the bow in the middle, while (as most beginners do) he clasped the end of the arrow against the string, between the thumb and forefinger. His body was erect and well-balanced, the head thrust a little forward, the left eye closed, and the right ranging along the line of the arrow as though it were the barrel of his rifle.
Slowly he drew back the string until his right hand was beside his cheek. He had seen Deerfoot many a time hold his right arm rigid, while the other pulled the string back of his head, but Hay-uta was surprised to find the tension so great that he could not draw it another inch. Holding it thus a second or two, he let fly.
Jack Carleton fixed his eyes on his cap, wondering how near the Sank could come to it. Feeling some misgiving, he took several more steps backward, until he was fully five yards from the pendant headgear.
Twangwent the bow-string, and the next instant something flashed so close to the eyes of the youth that he winked and flirted his head backward. The arrow had missed his nose by less than an inch!
"Well, that's the greatest shooting I ever saw!" exclaimed Jack, when he turned and saw where the missile, after clipping some leaves near at hand, had fallen to the ground. "Hold on!" he called, with a gesture which the Sauk understood, "if you are going to try it again, aim atme; then I'll be safe."
Hay-uta was as much astonished as he—so much so, indeed, that he stood staring, neither smiling nor making any move to launch another shaft. Jack ran and picked up the arrow that had been discharged, for the quiver was not full and Deerfoot had none to throw away.
When the youth rejoined the warrior, the latter handed him the bow, as though glad to be relieved of it, but seeing he had done no harm, he made a successful attempt to grin.
"Hay-uta, you are not to be blamed because you ain't half as handsome nor smart as other folks; it is no fault of yours if nature made you a fool; you are entitled to pity; but if you want to learn something about handling a bow just studymystyle."
The reason Jack Carleton talked in this fashion was because he knew the one whom he addressed could not understand a word of what was said. Nevertheless, Hay-uta looked upon his actions with interest; for, feeling assured that the shot could not be as bad as his, the chances were that it would be much better.
Conscious of what was expected of him, the young Kentuckian (who could not repress a smile over the performance of the Sauk), did his utmost to make a shot which would command the admiration of the only spectator with whom he was favored.
"I'm in a peculiar situation," reflected the youth, as he fitted the same arrow to the string, "for I am to try to hit a target which I don't want to hit. I don't suppose there's much danger, but I would like to beat Hay-uta."
The latter walked to the stump of the limb on which hung the cap, but he showed his wisdom by dodging behind the trunk of a tree large enough to shield his body. Jack laughed when he observed him peeping timidly from behind this cover.
"I'll point a little to one side of my cap," reflected the youth, "and if I elevate my aim a little, as Deerfoot does, I ought to come pretty near it."
His manner of discharging the bow was similar to that of the Sauk. He slowly drew back his right hand, whose thumb and forefinger inclosed the arrow and string, until his strength was at the highest tension, when he let go.
The aim could not have been improved, for it was a "bull's eye". The flint-pointed shaft tore its way through the top of the cap, which was carried off its support and dropped to the ground with the feathered part of the missile sticking in the air.
Hay-uta ran from behind the tree, picked up the target with the head of the arrow tangled in it, and held up the two in view of the young Kentuckian, who viewed them with dismay.
"Great Cæsar!" he exclaimed, "I believe I've ruined my cap!"
But as that which had been done could not be undone, he put on the best face possible. He waved his hand and nodded his head, as though he was not unduly proud over his own success.
"That's the way I always manage those things," he said, loftily, "put it up again."
The Sauk saw what he meant and replaced the cap, from which he first drew the destructive arrow, with a good deal of recklessness as it seemed to the owner, who plainly caught the gleam of daylight through the top, when it slightly oscillated for a moment on its perch.
"I don't suppose another shot will hurt it much, so I'll send this one right in the track of the first; then Hay-uta will know that my skill is next to Deerfoot's, and it won't be necessary to do any more shooting with this plagued bow."
The second missile was launched with more care than the first, Jack doing his very best to make a center shot; but the result was astounding: the arrow impinged against the tree behind which the Sauk had shrunk, chipped away a piece of the bark, and skipped off at a sharp angle, just as did the glancing missile which slew the ancient king of England, when hunting in the forest.
It looked to the amateur as if Hay-uta, when he thrust his face from behind the trunk was grinning to an extent that endangered his ears. Nothing could have been more eloquent than his gesture, when he pointed to the untouched cap, then at the tree from which the bark had been chipped, and then with a still more overwhelming smile indicated the spot where the erratic arrow lay at rest.
Jack Carleton flung the bow to the ground (as if it were to blame for his miserable work), but he could not help laughing when the Sauk brought back cap and arrows, and gravely handed them to him.
"If there was any chance of my hitting the mark," said the youth to himself, "I might lead him to believe I missed it on purpose, but likely enough my third shot would be wilder than the second, so I'll resign my commission."
A brief examination of his cap showed that the shaft had inflicted a ragged rent, but when the strong material was pushed and doubled together, a good deal of the air was prevented from entering through the opening. The arrows were replaced in the quiver, the bow unstrung, and the two "shook themselves together", as the expression goes.
The forenoon was well along and the air promised to be warmer than on the previous day, though, where the shade was so abundant, it could not be oppressive.
It was not likely that any thing would be seen of Deerfoot until he chose to present himself to them, but, as if in obedience to the same impulse, the two moved toward the river-bank, which was close at hand.
Jack allowed the Sauk to keep in advance, for he did not mean to make any observation for himself. They were only a few paces apart when the lad caught the gleam of water among the trees in front and stopped, while the warrior stepped to the edge with the guarded step he always used at such times. While the surface of the river was partially visible when looking through the limbs, yet the undergrowth almost shut off the view if one stepped down the sloping bank. Just as he had done many times before, the Sauk reached his right hand forward and parted the vegetation, so as to clear the way in front.
A glance was enough; near the middle of the river and almost opposite where they stood was an Indian canoe containing six Pawnees, two of whom were paddling the boat straight for the bank on which the Sauk and young Kentuckian had been practicing archery.
Jack Carleton saw that his friend had made some discovery, and he stepped quickly to his side. He did not heed the warning gesture of Hay-uta, and it took only a few seconds to learn the whole truth. Both moved back, allowing the leaves to close again. The Sauk then lay flat on his face and the lad did the same; in that posture neither could be detected by any parties on the river.
It was noteworthy that, although the Pawnees were using no special caution in crossing the river, and though they were but a few rods distant, yet the swinging of their paddles and the advance of the canoe were so noiseless that Hay-uta and Jack only discovered them, as may be said, by accident.
Without taking time to consider the significance of the proceeding, the friends on shore must needs use great care to avoid a dangerous complication. If the Pawnees should learn where they were, the chances were ten to one that they would either kill or capture both.
There was good ground, however, to hope that delicate as was the situation of our friends they were likely to escape. Although nearly opposite to the Sauk, when he first saw the party, and heading as they were for the spot where he stood, yet the swift current carried the boat downward, so that it was sure to land a distance below. The footprints made by Jack Carleton, Hay-uta and Deerfoot did not lie in that direction, and, therefore, the peril was at its minimum, unless some impulse should lead the Pawnees to turn and move up stream. It remained to be seen whether that would be the case.
The two, therefore, lay still, listening and peering into the shrubbery and undergrowth which grew between them and the margin of the river. The straining ear was able to catch the faint sound of a ripple against the prow of the heavy laden canoe, and once or twice the dip of the paddle was heard. Then the Pawnee who was the leader said something in the guttural voice peculiar to his race, and one of his warriors answered.
All this was a relief to the couple, for it was proof that no one in the canoe suspected the truth, they had no thought that two of the parties whom, most probably, they were seeking, were anywhere near them.
The soft rippling sound which occasionally came to the watchers showed that the canoe was drifting with the current and that it would land at a point fully fifty feet below. Hay-uta and Jack ventured to raise their heads a few inches, and, as they did so, caught a glimpse of the boat and its occupants, as it ran sharply against the bank and the warriors began stepping out.
This was a critical moment, and lowering their heads, they pressed the ground as closely as they could. Jack half wished that some car of Juggernaut might roll over them, so as to flatten them still more.
The grunting of voices was plainly heard, while the Indians stood close to the boat and discussed some question. Had Jack and his companion raised their heads, as they did a few minutes before, they would have seen every one of them. The Sauk did elevate his nose, just enough to gain an indistinct view of the nearest Pawnee, but the youthful Kentuckian lay with his ear against the ground. Soft as were the footfalls of their enemies, the sound reached him through the better conducting medium of the earth.
"Suppose the Pawneesdocome this way—what then?"
This was the question which, presented itself to the youth, and which, naturally enough, caused him misgiving, for, beyond all doubt, the peril was critical. If the Pawnees moved up stream, nothing could save the two from discovery, and it then would be two against six—all brave and well armed. The former could make no stand before a force three times as strong as they, and their situation could scarcely be improved by flight. Grave as was the crisis, it was rendered still graver by the fact that Jack and Hay-uta could not talk to each other. At such a time, a perfect understanding must exist between the members of the weaker force, and I have shown that in the present instance, that was impossible.
"Ah, if Deerfoot were only here," was the prayer that trembled on Jack Carleton's lips more than once, while he lay on the ground listening to the grumble of voices so close at hand.
"It was queer on his part any way," added the youth, following the line of thought forced upon him; "just when we need him the most he is gone; the Sauk is a good fellow, but he can't compare with Deerfoot. Helloa!" he muttered, noticing a movement on the part of Hay-uta, "something is up."
Jack Carleton thought himself warranted in imitating the action of Hay-uta, though he did not raise his head as high as he. The result was odd. He was able to look between the bases of the trunks and smaller bushes, so that he saw a number of moccasins, without being able to discern the bodies to which they belonged. He observed three or four pairs, and the fringes of the leggings to the knees. The Pawnees were walking, but their feet looked as if they were simply raised and put down again, without advancing or retreating. Inasmuch, however, as they soon disappeared, it was clear they were taking the right course—that is, for the best interests of our friends.
The Sauk, with the upper half of his body erect, watched the warriors, until they could be seen no longer, when he uttered an expression of relief, for both he and Jack realized that their escape—if it should prove to be such—was one of the narrowest possible. It is difficult to conceive how, in the event of discovery, they could have saved themselves from the Pawnees.
But the presence of the latter on that side of the river, was of importance to the Sauk and Jack Carleton, and was likely to complicate the situation. This would be especially true, if Deerfoot knew nothing about it. He having set out on some errand of his own, might have been led to a point which prevented him from discovering the canoe.
At any rate, the Sauk felt the necessity of keeping an eye on the hostiles. He motioned to the lad to stay where he was, retaining his own gun and Deerfoot's bow, while he looked after their enemies. Jack nodded his head, and the warrior moved away.
From his position, prone on the earth, the youth was able to follow him with his eyes for some distance. The sight was curious, as he dodged from tree to tree, his body bent over like a centenarian under the weight of his multitudinous years.
Nothing could have been done with more exquisite skill, and, when he too passed from sight, the one left behind knew that the Pawnees would steal no march upon them.
"Let me see," said he, his spirits rising as the situation improved, "I've got plenty of ammunition for my rifle, and besides that, here are Deerfoot's bow and arrows. If I had a fort, like that which sheltered Otto and me on the other side the Mississippi, I might stand a siege. There would be one good thing," he added, as he surveyed the aboriginal weapon; "when I fired this off, none of the Indians would know which one it was to hit—it certainly wouldn't be the one I aimed at, and I couldn't guess for myself."
Rising to his feet, he scrutinized every part of the wood, but there were no signs of the Pawnees, who, it was more than probable, had passed down the river shore and away from the vicinity.
"Now we have done a good deal of tramping back and forth," reflected the youth, "and those redskins are so sharp that the chances are ten to one they will come upon our footprints. It won't do to sit here all day until some of them tumble over me."
It was clear to Jack that the hostiles had started out on what was likely to be an extended reconnoissance, and, therefore, were sure to be gone a considerable while. As the canoe lay only a short distance off, he passed through the wood and undergrowth until he reached the spot where it was drawn only a few inches up the bank.
He surveyed it with natural curiosity, though he had seen many similar ones further to the east. It was about fifteen feet long, made of bark, sewed together, and the cracks filled with gum. The ends were curved over, so there was no difference between them, and each was ornamented with paintings which composed a symphony in black, red and yellow.
Two long paddles lay lengthwise in the boat. They were double—that is, the handle was in the middle, the ends being dipped alternately by whomsoever was propelling the craft. Jack looked behind him several times, before resting his hand on the gunwale. Something else which lay at the further end interested him, but he could not make it out at once. Leaning forward, he reached it with his bow, and then observed that it was a scalp. The barbarous trophy, by some unusual accident, had dropped unnoticed from the belt of one of the Pawnees, for it is not to be believed that he would have left such a prized souvenir behind him, no matter on what duty engaged.
The ragged patch of skin that had been torn from the crown of some vanquished foe was three or four inches in diameter, and the tuft of hair was long, black and coarse. Whoever had succumbed and borne the outrage, one thing was certain—he was not a Caucasian, but belonged to the same race as his conqueror.
Jack, who had seen such trophies many times, raked this one still closer and picked it up. The dryness of the skin showed that several weeks had passed since it was taken. More than likely it was the accompaniment of some fight that took place while the Pawnees were pushing their explorations toward the Mississippi.
"Wouldn't that be a pretty thing for me to carry?" remarked the youth, placing the hand which held it against his waist, as though it were a watch charm which he was holding in place for the admiration of others. "If I should walk back to Martinsville, and stride up and down between the houses, wouldn't the folks open their eyes? and wouldn't mother conclude that her Jack was doing well?"
In order the better to examine the scalp, the lad had laid down his gun and the quiver and bow within the canoe, where they could be caught up if wanted. He was too prudent to hold his position, with the possibility of the Pawnees reappearing, without continually glancing around in quest of them. Aware, too, that his footprints were likely to be discovered, he would not have approached the canoe, had it not been for a well-formed purpose of turning the boat to his own advantage.
"The Pawnees have come over the river to raise the mischief with us, so it will only be fair if I do what I can to reciprocate. I'm sure that when they come back, this canoe will either be missing, or it will have to run into port for repairs."
A shiver as if from an electric shock darted from the crown of Jack's head to his feet, for at that instant, he heard a slight sound as if made by a person clearing his throat. Looking up, he saw one of the Pawnee warriors, twenty yards distant, walking toward him. He held his rifle in one hand, and was moving slowly with his eyes fixed on the ground just in front of him. His manner left no doubt that he was the owner of the scalp in the canoe, and that, having missed it, he was walking back over his own trail, while he searched every foot of ground for the trophy. He had not seen the young Kentuckian, and had no suspicion that he was in the vicinity. Discovery, however, must come within the next few seconds, for the nearest shelter was too far off to be of avail. The sight of the pale-face skurrying to cover, would be sure to bring a bullet from the Pawnee's gun, or he would summon his comrades to the spot, by one of those whoops which were heard so many times the previous day.