CHAPTER V.THE YOUNG WYANDOT.The next morning was a perfect day for the young hunters. The sun shone brightly from the unclouded sky, and the air was crisp and keen with the breath of autumn. The experienced eye of the father told him that there was not likely to be any change very soon, and in his mild way he congratulated his son on the prospect of the pleasant hunt that was before him and his young friends.The agreement with the latter was that they were to wait at their home for Jack, when the three would start into the interior on a hunt that was likely to last two, if not more, days. Mr. Gedney was not one of those who thought his boy was too young to work. There were always a number of small jobs known in the West as "chores," which it was the duty of Jack to attend to, and which he dared not slight.Thus it came about that, although the boy rose at an unusually early hour, and his mother hurried his morning meal for him, yet when he started eastward along the path leading to his friends, the sun was creeping above the horizon.The preparations for the journey were few. All the bullets that were likely to be needed had been made by Mr. Gedney himself several days before; the powder-horn was filled, and nothing was lacking in that line. Then Jack, like his father, always carried a flint and steel with him, so as to be able to start a fire when he wanted it. (The lucifer match was not invented until a good many years after.) Then he had a pinch of mixed pepper and salt, wrapped in a piece of paper, and meant to be used in seasoning the game which they ate. A few other knick-knacks were stowed away in his inner pocket, and, kissing his parents "good-bye," he entered the path at the other end of the clearing, and walked briskly towards the home of his young friends.When he reached the crossing where he shot the panthers the night before, he naturally looked for the carcases of the animals. They were not in sight, having been carried away by the current."They've got mighty sharp claws," Jack said to himself, as he looked down at the scratches in the wood made by the beast before it dropped into the water. "It was well for me that I was able to shoot that other fellow before he could pounce upon me."On the other side of the stream was a small area in the path, where the ground was so spongy that it showed any light imprint upon it. Jack looked at the impression left by his own heavy shoe, and then uttered an expression of astonishment.And well he might do so, for there, beside the imprint of his shoe, was that of an Indian moccasin (or foot covering), made, too, since Jack had passed that way the evening before."Ah, ha," he muttered, looking keenly about him, "there are Indians not far off; I wonder whether they are Shawnees, Hurons, Wyandots, Pottawatomies, or what? Are they hunting for scalps or wild game?"It would seem that the most natural thing for the boy to do under such circumstances was to turn back home and tell his father about the discovery he had made; but Jack had no thought of that; he had started out for a hunt, and he was not going to let such a trifle as a few prowling Indians turn him back. The young hunter noticed that the toe of the moccasin pointed eastward--that is, in the direction he himself was travelling."Maybe the boys have seen something of him," was his thought, as he pushed along the path; "he may be some friendly warrior who has stopped to ask for something to eat."Jack Gedney had not walked twenty steps beyond the bridge when he heard a fierce threshing among the trees and undergrowth, which he knew was made by an animal in its frenzied flight. The next moment a noble-looking buck broke cover on his right, less than a hundred feet away, and bounded straight across the path in front of the boy, whose trusty rifle was at his shoulder on the instant.As the animal turned his broad side towards Jack the latter sent a bullet behind the fore-leg, at the point where it was sure to tear its way clean through the heart, and shatter bone and muscle as it skimmed into the woods beyond.The buck took two more of his tremendous bounds, as if he were unhurt, and he might have gone still farther had he not crashed straight against the trunk of a tree, from which he recoiled, and sank to the ground limp and lifeless.Jack started to run towards his prize, but recalling the warning of his father, checked himself, and re-loaded his gun before leaving the path. This was soon done, and then he broke into a trot which quickly took him to the side of the prize.The young hunter's eyes sparkled."He's one of the finest animals I ever saw. Hallo!----"He was looking at the tiny red orifice where his bullet had entered, and from which the life current was flowing, when he saw the feathered tip of an Indian arrow just under the fore part of the buck. Seizing the front legs, he rolled the animal over on the other side.As he did so he saw that an arrow had been driven into the side of the deer, close to where his bullet had come out.The wound thus made must have been mortal, though, as you may know, it is almost impossible to fire a shot that will instantly bring down one of these animals.There could be but one meaning to this--an Indian had shot the buck before Jack fired at it."Of course he will claim it," thought the young hunter; "but I am not sure that it belongs to him, for from the way the deer was running it looked as if he was not going to give up for a long time, if indeed he would have fallen at all. But we shall soon know."The cause of the last remark was the sight of the Indian who doubtless fired the arrow. Jack, on looking at him, saw with pleasure that he was not a full-grown warrior, but a boy who could not have been much older than himself.The young Indian wore the fringed hunting shirt, leggings, and beaded moccasins of his people, had a row of beads around his neck, a quiver of arrows over his left shoulder, and a long bow in his left hand. In the belt which clasped the waist of his deer-skin hunting shirt were thrust a tomahawk and hunting knife, so that he was as fully armed as most of his people.The face was broad, with high cheek-bones, small twinkling bead-like eyes, broad thick nose, and retreating chin, the whole daubed with greasy yellow, red, and black paint, in the shape of circles, dots, and all sorts of hideous devices for which room could be found.From a glance at the colours used in the dress of the Indian and on his countenance, Jack formed the conclusion that he belonged to the Wyandot tribe, many of whom he had met.The young Indian must have believed he was a terrible-looking fellow, and that no white lad dare dispute him, for he strode along like one who knows he is master, and stopping a few steps away, pointed down at the smitten buck."He mine," he muttered, in good English; "me shoot him.""So I see," calmly remarked Jack. "And I shot him too."As he spoke he pointed to the place where the ball had left the body, close to the entrance of the arrow. The Indian stooped down, and with some dexterity pushed the latter through the body of the deer, drawing it out on the other side. The head of such a missile, as you can well see, is so fashioned that it cannot be drawn back after being driven into any body.Rising to his feet, the young Wyandot restored the shaft to its place in his quiver, and repeated his remark:"He mine; me shoot him with arrow."Now there was no cause for Jack Gedney having a dispute with the Indian. The latter was welcome to the game, for Jack could do nothing with it, unless to run back home and tell his father to come and claim it. It was within convenient reach, but rather than give the time that this would take, the youth would have preferred to lose several such deer.He was anxious to join Will and George, who he knew were waiting impatiently for him; but he felt very much as you would have felt had you stood in his shoes. He thought the Indian was trying to bully him, and he was not willing to submit. Had the Wyandot asked him to let him have the game, he would have been glad to do so; but when it was not clear which of the two was the rightful claimant to the prize, the sturdy young hunter did not mean to be dictated to by a young Indian whose face was painted like his. Before yielding he would resist him.CHAPTER VI.THE WRESTLING BOUT."Now, see here," said Jack; after the young Indian straightened up, "you have told me more than once that that deer is yours. I don't know whether it is or not, for the creature didn't fall till I shot him----""He mine! he mine!" interrupted the other, laying his hand in a threatening manner on his knife. "My name Arowaka--me Wyandot; father, Hua-awa-oma--he great chief!""He may be a great chief among his own people, but you won't find him of much account among white folk. What I meant to say, Arowaka, is that your saying that the game is yours doesn't make it yours. You have your hand on your knife. I have a knife too, and I am not afraid of you."The young Wyandot showed by his manner that he was surprised. Clearly he did not expect such a rebuff as this, and, though his swarthy hand still rested on his weapon, he did not draw it forth."What is your bow good for, any way?" continued Jack, with a smile at the primitive weapon. "You Indians can't do half as much with your bows and arrows as we can with our guns. I killed two painters with my rifle last night, and I'll warrant that that's more than you ever did in all your life."At this point it struck Jack that he would do a foolish thing to engage in a quarrel with the young Indian over the ownership of so small a thing as the carcase of a deer. Since he had not only defied the other, but forced him to pause in his demands, the white youth felt more kindly towards him."See here, Arowaka," he added, "I think I have as much right to the game as you, but I don't want it half as bad. I'll let you have it. Why don't you pick it up and carry it off?"The Wyandot, who must have understood these words, looked at the speaker with a curious expression, that is, so far as it could be seen through the paint with which his face was daubed."What your name?" he asked, in a lower voice than before."Jack Gedney, and I live only a short distance up the path yonder.""Me know," said the other. "Jack have fine gun.""You are right about that," was the proud answer of the lad."Me like see him."Jack was too wise to trust his valuable weapon in the hands of the young scamp, who would be glad enough to steal it. Still, he thought it safe to let him have a better view of it than he could have so long as it was held in the two hands of the owner.So our young friend was foolish enough to compromise. He leaned his gun against the nearest tree, where the eye could trace its whole beautiful shape, from the muzzle to the lowermost corner of the ornamented stock.Jack took care to stand quite close to the piece, so that, if the young Wyandot should make an attempt to seize it, he could be ahead of him.To the surprise of Jack, the Wyandot, instead of advancing towards the weapon, moved back several paces, just as a person does when he wishes to view all the points of some large object."He knows better than to try to take it from me," was the conclusion of Jack, "for I would fight him like a painter, and I would never give up that gun except with my life."At this moment came the greatest surprise of Jack Gedney's life. He was looking admiringly at his weapon when the hand of an Indian warrior softly reached from behind the tree, and grasped the barrel. An instant later the figure of a Wyandot stepped into sight, holding his bow in one hand and the captured rifle in the other.No one can imagine the consternation of Jack Gedney, who had allowed his prize to pass from his possession without so much as raising a finger to prevent it. It looked indeed as if the young Wyandot had been trying to get him to do the very thing that he had done. This, however, could not have been the case, for two Indians must have felt able to overcome so young a lad as Jack, even with his loaded gun.Jack could hardly keep from crying, for his grief overflowed. The next instant he was filled with anger."That is mine," said he, stepping towards the Indian, and reaching out his hand.The savage extended the weapon, as if he meant to pass it back to the lad; but before the latter could seize it it was withdrawn, and the Indian grinned more than ever.The warrior was dressed similarly to Arowaka, the paint on his face being daubed in much the same fashion. From this, and the fact that several glances passed between the two, Jack Gedney rightly concluded that they were father and son, the warrior being Hua-awa-oma, who, as his offspring claimed, was a great chief."Want gun?" asked the savage, speaking for the first time."Yes, it is mine. I must have it! Iwillhave it!"In his indignation, Jack was ready to draw his knife, and leap at his tantalising enemy. Such a step could not have helped him, while it might have caused him much harm.Hua-awa-oma showed that, like many an American Indian, he had a vein of waggery in his composition. The race to which he belonged is probably the most melancholy in the world, but there are times when its people show something akin to mirth. The chief set the gun against the tree where it was standing a few minutes before, and then beckoned to his son to come nigher.Arowaka walked forward until he stood near the wondering Jack Gedney."You wrestle, you two!" said he. "One throw other, him have gun."The meaning of this was clear enough: the ownership of the gun was to be decided by a wrestling bout between Jack Gedney and the young Wyandot.The heart of the white youth gave a quick throb of delight, for there was no boy in the settlement within two years of his age whom he could not easily master in such a contest. He had thrown Will Burton, taller and older than he, with as much ease as he had every lad anywhere near his age.The lads, having been told to begin, lost no time in doing so. It was fortunate for Jack that his opponent proved to be left-handed, since that gave Jack the hold which he wished. With their arms encircling each other, and the hands clasped in front, their heads bent slightly forward, so that they could watch each other's feet, the struggle began.At this juncture the question came to Jack Gedney--"If I do throw this fellow and win, will the chief keep his promise?"It must be confessed that there was little reason to believe that Hua-awa-oma (He who fights without falling) would show the least regard for his pledge. This, however, did not weaken the arm of Jack Gedney, who, bending his body slightly forward and downward, suddenly caught his opponent on his hip and flung him on his back before the fellow could prevent it. Jack fell so heavily across him that he almost forced the breath from his body.But Arowaka was on his feet scarcely a second behind Jack, who was given no time to see how the chief took it, when he found both shoulders seized by his opponent.Jack was quick to do the same, so that the two contestants faced each other. The young Wyandot took a lesson from his fall, and he was so guarded that he defeated several efforts to catch him unawares.All at once, like a flash, Jack, tightly grasping the arms of Arowaka, dropped his own shoulders, kicked the feet of the other from beneath him, and, with the most powerful effort he could put forth, lifted the Wyandot clear from the ground.Finding himself going, Arowaka struggled desperately, his feet beating the air like frantic drumsticks, but he could not save himself. The next instant he shot over Jack's head as if fired from a gun, and struck the ground with a shock that seemed violent enough to break his neck.CHAPTER VII.JACK RESUMES HIS JOURNEY.No one could have won the wrestling bout more fairly than did Jack Gedney, who, having thrown the young Wyandot by the usual side hold, had now tossed him over his head with such violence that the youthful redskin must have made a big dent in the earth where his crown struck it.The victor was startled for a moment by the fear that he had seriously injured his opponent, and, running forward, he stooped over him."Is Arowaka hurt? I am sorry," he said, kindly. "I did not really mean to do it."But the latter was on his feet like a flash, thus proving the toughness of his race. He was so angered that his small black eyes flashed fire. No doubt he ranked as a skilful wrestler among his own people, and he was chagrined beyond bearing by his defeat.Grasping the handle of his knife, he drew it forth with the intention of rushing upon Jack; but before he could do so the chieftain, Hua-awa-oma, took part in the proceedings.You know that the American Indians show little indulgence to their children, whom they rear much as wild animals rear their young. They are made to suffer hardships while infants that would prove fatal to you or me when double their age. The doctrine of forbearance, kindness, and patience, is unknown among those peculiar people.The chief had watched the contest between his heir and the white boy, who was not as tall by several inches as the other. He had seen Arowaka beaten as if he were a child in the grasp of a giant. The chief was furious. Arowaka was in the very act of drawing his knife when his father seized one of his arms, and began belabouring him with his long bow, which he had caught up with the other hand.Jack Gedney was so amazed for a few seconds that he could only stare in silence. Then he was pleased, for the son deserved his punishment, not because he was overthrown, but because he drew his knife upon the one who had fairly conquered him. In the midst of the odd scene Jack Gedney awoke to the fact that his darling rifle was leaning against the very tree where he first placed it for Arowaka to view. The chief and his son were closer to it than Jack, and the latter dared not make a rush to recover it while the Indian was in such a furious mood, but he stealthily edged that way, in the hope of getting near enough to seize it before the Wyandot could prevent him.But Jack was disappointed. Such a severe punishment as the chieftain gave to his son could not, in the nature of things, last long. Probably a score of blows descended on the back and limbs of Arowaka when they ceased. The chief gave the youth an angry shove, as though he was ashamed of him, and then, turning about, he took a few quick paces and snatched up the gun.As he seized the weapon, the Wyandot, without glancing at his disgraced son, who stood sullenly apart, looking askance at the scene, walked straight to Jack and handed it to him."Take him--brave boy--make great warrior--Hua-awa-oma love Jack."Doubting the earnestness of the chief, the youth reached out his hand, expecting the weapon to be withdrawn as before; but it was not; and a thrill of delight passed through the lad when he felt that his rifle was once more in his own possession."Huo-awa-oma, I thank you; you speak with a single tongue; you are a brave warrior; you have spoken truth; we are friends for ever."The Wyandot made no response to this, but turning his back alike on white and red boy, he strode angrily off in the woods, taking a direction that led him towards the clearing where stood the cabin in which Jack Gedney was born.Hua-awa-oma had gone only a couple of rods when his son followed him. He did not speak, but as he moved away he turned his head for an instant and glanced at Jack.What that look meant was beyond the power of the boy to guess, but he believed it was a threat--a warning that he had not yet finished with him.However, Jack was not alarmed by the fierce glance of the dusky youth. He was so delighted over the restoration of his rifle that for a few minutes he could think of nothing else.Making his way back to the trail, he resumed his walk towards the home of the Burton boys, who he knew were already impatient over his delay."It's very strange," he said, recalling the incidents that have just been described; "I don't believe that one Indian in a thousand would have kept his word like Hua-awa-oma. Having got hold of my gun, he would not have let go; but I suspect, after all, the chief is not such an honourable fellow as he seems to be from his actions. If Arowaka had made a better fight, even though I beat him, his father would have let him have the gun; but I threw him so easily that the chief was maddened, and he gave the gun back to me more because he was angry with his son than because of his promise to me."I must say that this conclusion of Jack Gedney was worthy of one much older than he. You may think he showed an amazing amount of wisdom for a lad so young, but bear in mind that he was not only a bright boy, but he had the training that gave him a knowledge of the woods often denied to those of his years.The presence of the two Indians in this neighbourhood could not fail to set Jack to thinking what it meant. The Wyandots were among those who had fought the white settlers with intense fierceness. Some of their leaders were the most daring and skilful of the combined tribes, and the warriors were as brave and treacherous as the Apaches of the present time.The natural question that Jack asked himself was as to the meaning of the presence of this chief and his son so near to the settlement and the few scattered cabins of that section. One alarming fact could not be lost sight of: during the past summer and early autumn the Indians had been unusually hostile.Some weeks before, Mr. Gedney was on the point of moving with his family to the settlement until the trouble should pass; but he disliked leaving the cabin and all the gains he had made since coming to the West. About that time, however, came news that drove away his fears, and he decided to stay, at least until more alarming tidings should reach him.The thought that naturally came to Jack was that a chief generally had a number of warriors within call, and since they were Wyandots they were hostile to the whites, who were trying to take their hunting-grounds away from them. The chief himself had shown a friendship towards Jack which he might extend to his relatives, but of course that was mere guesswork.While the boy found plenty of cause for serious thought, he took comfort in his faith in the bravery and address of his father. He had been through some of the most thrilling scenes on the frontier, and in all he had carried himself so as to win the praise of every one.So it was natural, as you will see, that, though Jack was disturbed by his fears, he was able to find relief in his faith in his father."He knows all about Indians," said the youth to himself; "if they mean anything wrong, he will find it out; they will never be able to catch him asleep."And with this conclusion the boy walked more briskly than before along the trail over which he had journeyed so many times.CHAPTER VIII.TRAVELLING SOUTHWARD.All of Jack Gedney's doubts and misgivings left him for the time when he caught sight of the cabin of Mr. Burton. The moment he stepped into the clearing, where he could be seen, he was greeted by shouts from Will and George."We've been waiting more than a half-hour for you," called out the elder; "what kept you?""I didn't start quite as early as I wanted to, and I was stopped on the way by a couple of Indians."Mr. Burton and his wife and daughter, who were within the cabin, came to the door when they heard this remark, for it was one in which it was natural that all should feel interest.Jack followed the other boys into the house, where all sat down, and the visitor gave an account of his wrestling bout with the young Wyandot. When he came to relate how he sent the youth flying over his head, with his legs outspread like those of a frog, and of the trouncing the parent added to his defeat, every one of the listeners, including Mrs. Burton, laughed right merrily."It was bad enough to be tossed about in that fashion," said Mr. Burton, "but it was rough on the poor fellow to receive a whipping on that account.""I would have given a good deal to see it," said Will who had been thrown more than once by the doughty Jack. "I can imagine how he felt when he went flying over your head, for I've been there myself.""I was thinking," said Jack, more seriously, "that it might be that the chief and his boy are not alone in the woods. You know that a chief is pretty apt to have his warriors near him.""More than likely you are right: what of it?" asked Mr. Burton.The lightness with which this question was asked lessened the fears of Jack, and even made him ashamed that he was on the point of expressing them.Then, too, Mrs. Burton, who was sometimes nervous about her children, showed no more signs of alarm than did little Ruth, standing by her side. Jack fairly blushed to recall how much he had been disturbed by his misgivings. He looked around at the boys, and asked abruptly--"Well, are you ready, fellows?""Yes, and have been for nearly an hour.""Then let's be off.""How long do you think you will be away?" asked Mrs. Burton, putting her arms around each of her sons, and kissing them "good-bye.""That depends on many things that can't be known now," said her husband, answering for the three. "I have no doubt they will spend one night in the woods, and perhaps two. I prefer that they should not be away any longer.""We will not," said his elder boy, "unless something happens that we can't think of, and that won't let us get back.""I don't thinkthatis likely; but if you are not here by the close of the third day from this I shall start to hunt you up. Then, if your explanation is not satisfactory, I know two boys who will be made to dance a war-dance to which that of the young Wyandot cannot be compared."All laughed at this remark of the father, and he himself spoke with a smile; but the young gentlemen concerned knew, all the same, that it was no laughing matter. Their parent would carry out his threat in spirit and letter.Young George Burton, who was short and stout, carried a blanket done up in a compact bundle, and strapped to his back, that being about the only burden of which he was given charge, the other extras being at the command of his big brother.You will observe that not one of the boys had a dog with him. Jack Gedney had been the owner of a fine hunter, but that had been killed in a fight with two bears only a month before. Mr. Burton had a good animal, but he preferred to keep him at home, where his intelligence was valuable. He gave notice of the approach of strangers in ample time to take all precaution against surprise. He was especially useful at night, when the most cautious Indian would have found it hard to steal up to the cabin without detection.Besides, the young hunters were in less need of such an animal than you would think. During these later days, when the instinct of the brutes seem to be necessary to the most skilled sportsman, that man would be foolish who expected much success without one to help him. But a hundred years ago game was so plentiful along the river Ohio that the hunter could do very well without the aid of a dog. In the broad stretches of clearing or prairie roamed droves, numbering many hundreds, of American bison, or buffalo, as they are wrongly called; while the bears who at that season of the year were hunting for food, and the deer, wolves, and other animals, were so numerous that there was no excuse for any one failing to find them.Such a buoyant party of young hunters are not likely to linger long over their farewells. Within the three minutes following the warning of Mr. Burton of what would follow if they overstayed their time all three were out of sight of the cabin.The direction taken was almost due south where there were many miles of forest in which some at least of the wild animals had not yet seen a white man; more than likely many of them had not met a redskin for if they had done so they would not have been allowed to live to remember it.Since there was no path to follow, the boys walked beside each other. This was because they could talk better than in Indian file, and three such lads as those I am telling you about could not have been persuaded to keep still by the offer of several fortunes in gold.It surely is unsportsman-like to go hunting in that fashion. Not only were they without dogs (for which I have given you a reason), but they kept together, and talked a great deal, whereas professional hunters would have separated whenever in the neighbourhood of game, and taken all pains to steal upon the animals before the latter could find out their danger.The boys, however, stepped so softly upon the dry leaves that the rustling could be heard but a short distance, and they talked in such low voices that they might have passed close to a camp of Indians without discovery.And then, too, no matter how great their interest in what they said, they were always on the alert. They glanced from side to side, just as Jack Gedney did when walking along the path between his home and that of his friends.For a time the wood was quite open, so that they were able to travel with little trouble. Now and then came breaks in their conversation, caused by the big tree trunks around which they had to pass. Then, too, the undergrowth was so dense that they sometimes involuntarily dropped into Indian file, and advanced in silence. In other parts of Kentucky there were long stretches of cane-brake so close that an Indian has passed within four feet of the fugitive for whom he was hunting without seeing him.Young George Burton suffered more than the others from the running vines, which were not always seen. Some of these wound along the ground, like fine wire, and, catching in front of his ankle, did not break, but threw him forward on his hands and knees. He had so slight a distance to fall that it did not hurt him, and he joined the others in laughing over his slips. But all the same, it was anything but pleasant."Hurrah, here is a path!" called out Will, who was several steps in advance of the rest."I wonder what it means?" said Jack, as he and George hurried up beside him.All three, however, quickly saw the explanation. It was a track made by animals in going to and from one of the "salt licks," as they are called, which are quite common in many parts of that section.You know how fond animals are of salt. Well, there are spots in the country which I am telling you about where the water which oozes upward through the ground is so salt that, if left alone, it makes quite a deposit of that mineral. The wild beasts soon find it out, and lick the ground, so as to get the salt. The spaces sometimes cover hundreds of square feet, where the earth has been made as smooth as a planed board by the tongues of the different creatures in their quest for salt.In some places the salt is so plentiful that the settlers used to gather there and spend days in getting it ready for domestic use. Daniel Boone was once engaged in doing this when he was captured by Indians, and kept a prisoner for a long time.From some of the salt licks you might have seen the paths of wild beasts radiating outward, until, as the animals fell away from the trails, they were gradually lost in the wilderness."We shall be likely to find some game there," was the remark of Jack, after the three had stood several minutes looking down at the ground, where the imprints of hoofs and feet were so numerous that none of them could be identified."That's what we have come into the woods for," replied Will, with a laugh."Yes, though you know that in Kentucky we are apt to find spots where there are more wild beasts than we can get along with comfortably."CHAPTER IX.ROYAL GAME."I wonder how far off the lick is," said George, looking along the path, which the eye could trace for several rods."There is but one way of finding out," replied his brother; "and that is to follow the trail to the lick."Jack gazed in the other direction, where the trail could be seen for a greater distance before it wound out of sight."The path is so plain," he said, "that I don't believe the lick can be far off.""If we should come here early in the morning we should be likely to find more of them.""I don't think we shall have much trouble in finding enough to keep us busy, and to give you another trial with that fine gun of yours."Since there was reason for believing they would soon meet some of the animals of which they were talking, the boys were wise enough to act like the young hunters they claimed to be.Will took the lead, Jack coming next, with George in the rear, all walking close together. Of course the gun of each was loaded, and, though carried over the shoulder, was ready for instant service."Keep your eyes open," was the unnecessary advice of Jack to their leader, "for we don't want you to fall over some beast before we see him.""You needn't fear for me," was the confident reply of Will; "and don't you forget that some of them may be coming from the other way.""George must attend tothem," said Jack, glancing over his shoulder at the youngest member of the party, who also looked behind him on hearing the remark."This blanket, strapped like a knapsack behind my shoulders, is handy," remarked George, with a laugh. "If a painter would only use his paws on it he wouldn't hurtmemuch.""A painter ain't so foolish as that," said Jack. "He knows too well how to get at a fellow of your size to waste any time in tearing up blankets.""'Sh! here comes something!" exclaimed Will, in a hushed voice, stopping short, and motioning to the others to do the same.A second later the leader stepped quickly from the path, and ran a few paces to a large tree, behind which he screened himself. The others quickly did the same, for, as you may well know, the large trunks were so handy that it was an easy thing to do.Brief as was the time taken, it was enough to bring into sight the animal whose approach Will had learned by the sound of his feet upon the solid ground.The huge bushy head of a bull bison loomed into sight, as he ambled along the trail at a leisurely gait, on his return from his dessert of salt. He looked frightful enough when viewed from the front, and it is probable that he would have charged upon the whole party of boys had they tried to stop him; but he is an animal little feared by the hunter, and not one of the three boys felt the least misgiving on the approach of the big beast.His action showed that he had not observed the young hunters as they dodged from his path, and therefore they were the bolder in peeping from behind their shelter.A moment after the bull came in sight, another was seen to be walking a short distance behind him. Then another and another appeared, until seven were counted, walking along the trail in their lazy fashion.Nothing would have been easier for the boys than to have dropped three of the animals in their tracks. As each one reached his fore leg forward he exposed a portion of his body through which a bullet could have been sent directly into his heart.Not a shot, however, was fired. There was not enough danger in bringing down this kind of game to suit the boys, who wanted something of a more exciting nature. They therefore allowed the beasts to pass by unharmed, though Jack resolved to give them a scare.In darting among the trees to find a hiding-place, George ran in front of Jack, so that the latter was thrown a few paces to the rear of the brothers. Just as the fine-looking bull came opposite, Jack, leaving his gun leaning against the tree, dashed out, threw up both hands, and shouted.He expected that the startled animal would plunge away at the top of his speed, but he did not.Those who were following the leader flung up their heads each with a snort, and ran off among the trees; but the leader, stopping short, looked inquiringly at the youngster, as though trying to learn his species. Then he, too, uttered a snort, and dropping his big head, charged straight at the boy.It would be putting it very mildly to say that Jack was surprised. When he saw his danger he was less than a dozen paces from the beast, which crashed like a steam-engine through the bushes, undergrowth, and among the trees."My gracious!" gasped the lad, wheeling about like a flash, and breaking for shelter; "shoot him, boys, or it's all up with me!"Jack, however, proved his readiness of resource by making a running leap at a large limb, a short distance away. Seizing it with both hands, he pulled himself out of reach, just as the bull thundered past beneath him.The brute was trammelled in his movements by the trees, else he would have been likely to overtake the boy before he could secure the refuge.Seeing that his victim had escaped, the bison looked up at him with an angry snuff, then turned slowly about and made his way back to the path, leaving his companions to do as they chose.Jack wondered why, brief though the incident was, his friends had not fired at the bull, who charged him with such fury; but when from his perch he looked around for them, he understood very well why they held their peace.Seeing the beast depart, the brothers stepped from behind the respective trees that had sheltered them. Both were still shaking with laughter to such an extent that they could hardly stand, and they could not have aimed a gun at the bison had he been within a rod of them.Jack was inclined to lose his temper when, after scowling at them for a full minute, he saw no signs of a decrease in their mirth. But by-and-by he began to see the ludicrous side of the picture, and he too broke into laughter. Dropping lightly to the ground, he caught up his rifle, and joining his friends, said--"I started out to scare that old bull, but it looks as though he scared me.""I should say he did, and----"But Will dropped back against the tree, his brother doing the same, and both unable to speak another word.Jack coolly sat down on the ground, saying--"When you have finished we'll go on."There is nothing which does a person more good than a hearty fit of laughter. That being so, it is safe to say that the Burton brothers never before had so much good done them.The end, however, soon came, and shaking themselves together, as may be said, the three came back to the trail, along which they continued their way towards the lick.They took the same order as before, and all were on the alert. Now and then Jack noticed the shoulders of their leader shaking in a way that told him he was laughing again over the figure cut by Jack when he set out to scare the bull. After a time this ceased altogether.It was yet quite early in the day, and the boys expected when night came to be a long way from their friends. They would have felt themselves poor hunters if they did not spend a night in the woods, even though within easy reach of home; and since Mr. Burton had given his boys permission to stay a couple of nights in camp, it could be set down as a certainty that they would do so.The experience of the young hunters on their jaunt through the Kentucky woods proved not only of the most stirring kind, but it was marked by a number of adventures the like of which they had never known or heard of before. Indeed, it may be said that this feature began with Jack's fight with the panthers the night before, when, instead of meeting only one, he ran against two. Of itself this was not so remarkable, but it was the first instance known to him.The boys naturally felt confidence in themselves, for they were three in number, and each had a good gun. Surely they ought to be more than enough for anything in the nature of a wild animal; and yet, when they least expected it, they ran into a peril of which none of them dreamed."My gracious!" suddenly exclaimed Will, turning short around; "here comes a hundred bears!"Now it is not to be supposed that there was anything like the number which the lad in his excitement declared, but what he did see was enough to terrify any one.Lumbering along the trail, directly towards them, was a black bear of large size, and there were two at least behind him. These three were discovered at the same moment, and the unusual sight led Will to believe that it was only the head of a procession coming from the salt lick a long distance away."Let's take to the trees," said Will, leading the way into the wood. "It won't do to fight all them.""Hold on," replied Jack, standing his ground. "I didn't come out to hunt game, and then run away from it when found.""You were the first one to do it, though," retorted Will. "You can stay if you want to, but I don't."George followed his brother, but Jack, true to his word, stood his ground, ready to meet the bear.
CHAPTER V.
THE YOUNG WYANDOT.
The next morning was a perfect day for the young hunters. The sun shone brightly from the unclouded sky, and the air was crisp and keen with the breath of autumn. The experienced eye of the father told him that there was not likely to be any change very soon, and in his mild way he congratulated his son on the prospect of the pleasant hunt that was before him and his young friends.
The agreement with the latter was that they were to wait at their home for Jack, when the three would start into the interior on a hunt that was likely to last two, if not more, days. Mr. Gedney was not one of those who thought his boy was too young to work. There were always a number of small jobs known in the West as "chores," which it was the duty of Jack to attend to, and which he dared not slight.
Thus it came about that, although the boy rose at an unusually early hour, and his mother hurried his morning meal for him, yet when he started eastward along the path leading to his friends, the sun was creeping above the horizon.
The preparations for the journey were few. All the bullets that were likely to be needed had been made by Mr. Gedney himself several days before; the powder-horn was filled, and nothing was lacking in that line. Then Jack, like his father, always carried a flint and steel with him, so as to be able to start a fire when he wanted it. (The lucifer match was not invented until a good many years after.) Then he had a pinch of mixed pepper and salt, wrapped in a piece of paper, and meant to be used in seasoning the game which they ate. A few other knick-knacks were stowed away in his inner pocket, and, kissing his parents "good-bye," he entered the path at the other end of the clearing, and walked briskly towards the home of his young friends.
When he reached the crossing where he shot the panthers the night before, he naturally looked for the carcases of the animals. They were not in sight, having been carried away by the current.
"They've got mighty sharp claws," Jack said to himself, as he looked down at the scratches in the wood made by the beast before it dropped into the water. "It was well for me that I was able to shoot that other fellow before he could pounce upon me."
On the other side of the stream was a small area in the path, where the ground was so spongy that it showed any light imprint upon it. Jack looked at the impression left by his own heavy shoe, and then uttered an expression of astonishment.
And well he might do so, for there, beside the imprint of his shoe, was that of an Indian moccasin (or foot covering), made, too, since Jack had passed that way the evening before.
"Ah, ha," he muttered, looking keenly about him, "there are Indians not far off; I wonder whether they are Shawnees, Hurons, Wyandots, Pottawatomies, or what? Are they hunting for scalps or wild game?"
It would seem that the most natural thing for the boy to do under such circumstances was to turn back home and tell his father about the discovery he had made; but Jack had no thought of that; he had started out for a hunt, and he was not going to let such a trifle as a few prowling Indians turn him back. The young hunter noticed that the toe of the moccasin pointed eastward--that is, in the direction he himself was travelling.
"Maybe the boys have seen something of him," was his thought, as he pushed along the path; "he may be some friendly warrior who has stopped to ask for something to eat."
Jack Gedney had not walked twenty steps beyond the bridge when he heard a fierce threshing among the trees and undergrowth, which he knew was made by an animal in its frenzied flight. The next moment a noble-looking buck broke cover on his right, less than a hundred feet away, and bounded straight across the path in front of the boy, whose trusty rifle was at his shoulder on the instant.
As the animal turned his broad side towards Jack the latter sent a bullet behind the fore-leg, at the point where it was sure to tear its way clean through the heart, and shatter bone and muscle as it skimmed into the woods beyond.
The buck took two more of his tremendous bounds, as if he were unhurt, and he might have gone still farther had he not crashed straight against the trunk of a tree, from which he recoiled, and sank to the ground limp and lifeless.
Jack started to run towards his prize, but recalling the warning of his father, checked himself, and re-loaded his gun before leaving the path. This was soon done, and then he broke into a trot which quickly took him to the side of the prize.
The young hunter's eyes sparkled.
"He's one of the finest animals I ever saw. Hallo!----"
He was looking at the tiny red orifice where his bullet had entered, and from which the life current was flowing, when he saw the feathered tip of an Indian arrow just under the fore part of the buck. Seizing the front legs, he rolled the animal over on the other side.
As he did so he saw that an arrow had been driven into the side of the deer, close to where his bullet had come out.
The wound thus made must have been mortal, though, as you may know, it is almost impossible to fire a shot that will instantly bring down one of these animals.
There could be but one meaning to this--an Indian had shot the buck before Jack fired at it.
"Of course he will claim it," thought the young hunter; "but I am not sure that it belongs to him, for from the way the deer was running it looked as if he was not going to give up for a long time, if indeed he would have fallen at all. But we shall soon know."
The cause of the last remark was the sight of the Indian who doubtless fired the arrow. Jack, on looking at him, saw with pleasure that he was not a full-grown warrior, but a boy who could not have been much older than himself.
The young Indian wore the fringed hunting shirt, leggings, and beaded moccasins of his people, had a row of beads around his neck, a quiver of arrows over his left shoulder, and a long bow in his left hand. In the belt which clasped the waist of his deer-skin hunting shirt were thrust a tomahawk and hunting knife, so that he was as fully armed as most of his people.
The face was broad, with high cheek-bones, small twinkling bead-like eyes, broad thick nose, and retreating chin, the whole daubed with greasy yellow, red, and black paint, in the shape of circles, dots, and all sorts of hideous devices for which room could be found.
From a glance at the colours used in the dress of the Indian and on his countenance, Jack formed the conclusion that he belonged to the Wyandot tribe, many of whom he had met.
The young Indian must have believed he was a terrible-looking fellow, and that no white lad dare dispute him, for he strode along like one who knows he is master, and stopping a few steps away, pointed down at the smitten buck.
"He mine," he muttered, in good English; "me shoot him."
"So I see," calmly remarked Jack. "And I shot him too."
As he spoke he pointed to the place where the ball had left the body, close to the entrance of the arrow. The Indian stooped down, and with some dexterity pushed the latter through the body of the deer, drawing it out on the other side. The head of such a missile, as you can well see, is so fashioned that it cannot be drawn back after being driven into any body.
Rising to his feet, the young Wyandot restored the shaft to its place in his quiver, and repeated his remark:
"He mine; me shoot him with arrow."
Now there was no cause for Jack Gedney having a dispute with the Indian. The latter was welcome to the game, for Jack could do nothing with it, unless to run back home and tell his father to come and claim it. It was within convenient reach, but rather than give the time that this would take, the youth would have preferred to lose several such deer.
He was anxious to join Will and George, who he knew were waiting impatiently for him; but he felt very much as you would have felt had you stood in his shoes. He thought the Indian was trying to bully him, and he was not willing to submit. Had the Wyandot asked him to let him have the game, he would have been glad to do so; but when it was not clear which of the two was the rightful claimant to the prize, the sturdy young hunter did not mean to be dictated to by a young Indian whose face was painted like his. Before yielding he would resist him.
CHAPTER VI.
THE WRESTLING BOUT.
"Now, see here," said Jack; after the young Indian straightened up, "you have told me more than once that that deer is yours. I don't know whether it is or not, for the creature didn't fall till I shot him----"
"He mine! he mine!" interrupted the other, laying his hand in a threatening manner on his knife. "My name Arowaka--me Wyandot; father, Hua-awa-oma--he great chief!"
"He may be a great chief among his own people, but you won't find him of much account among white folk. What I meant to say, Arowaka, is that your saying that the game is yours doesn't make it yours. You have your hand on your knife. I have a knife too, and I am not afraid of you."
The young Wyandot showed by his manner that he was surprised. Clearly he did not expect such a rebuff as this, and, though his swarthy hand still rested on his weapon, he did not draw it forth.
"What is your bow good for, any way?" continued Jack, with a smile at the primitive weapon. "You Indians can't do half as much with your bows and arrows as we can with our guns. I killed two painters with my rifle last night, and I'll warrant that that's more than you ever did in all your life."
At this point it struck Jack that he would do a foolish thing to engage in a quarrel with the young Indian over the ownership of so small a thing as the carcase of a deer. Since he had not only defied the other, but forced him to pause in his demands, the white youth felt more kindly towards him.
"See here, Arowaka," he added, "I think I have as much right to the game as you, but I don't want it half as bad. I'll let you have it. Why don't you pick it up and carry it off?"
The Wyandot, who must have understood these words, looked at the speaker with a curious expression, that is, so far as it could be seen through the paint with which his face was daubed.
"What your name?" he asked, in a lower voice than before.
"Jack Gedney, and I live only a short distance up the path yonder."
"Me know," said the other. "Jack have fine gun."
"You are right about that," was the proud answer of the lad.
"Me like see him."
Jack was too wise to trust his valuable weapon in the hands of the young scamp, who would be glad enough to steal it. Still, he thought it safe to let him have a better view of it than he could have so long as it was held in the two hands of the owner.
So our young friend was foolish enough to compromise. He leaned his gun against the nearest tree, where the eye could trace its whole beautiful shape, from the muzzle to the lowermost corner of the ornamented stock.
Jack took care to stand quite close to the piece, so that, if the young Wyandot should make an attempt to seize it, he could be ahead of him.
To the surprise of Jack, the Wyandot, instead of advancing towards the weapon, moved back several paces, just as a person does when he wishes to view all the points of some large object.
"He knows better than to try to take it from me," was the conclusion of Jack, "for I would fight him like a painter, and I would never give up that gun except with my life."
At this moment came the greatest surprise of Jack Gedney's life. He was looking admiringly at his weapon when the hand of an Indian warrior softly reached from behind the tree, and grasped the barrel. An instant later the figure of a Wyandot stepped into sight, holding his bow in one hand and the captured rifle in the other.
No one can imagine the consternation of Jack Gedney, who had allowed his prize to pass from his possession without so much as raising a finger to prevent it. It looked indeed as if the young Wyandot had been trying to get him to do the very thing that he had done. This, however, could not have been the case, for two Indians must have felt able to overcome so young a lad as Jack, even with his loaded gun.
Jack could hardly keep from crying, for his grief overflowed. The next instant he was filled with anger.
"That is mine," said he, stepping towards the Indian, and reaching out his hand.
The savage extended the weapon, as if he meant to pass it back to the lad; but before the latter could seize it it was withdrawn, and the Indian grinned more than ever.
The warrior was dressed similarly to Arowaka, the paint on his face being daubed in much the same fashion. From this, and the fact that several glances passed between the two, Jack Gedney rightly concluded that they were father and son, the warrior being Hua-awa-oma, who, as his offspring claimed, was a great chief.
"Want gun?" asked the savage, speaking for the first time.
"Yes, it is mine. I must have it! Iwillhave it!"
In his indignation, Jack was ready to draw his knife, and leap at his tantalising enemy. Such a step could not have helped him, while it might have caused him much harm.
Hua-awa-oma showed that, like many an American Indian, he had a vein of waggery in his composition. The race to which he belonged is probably the most melancholy in the world, but there are times when its people show something akin to mirth. The chief set the gun against the tree where it was standing a few minutes before, and then beckoned to his son to come nigher.
Arowaka walked forward until he stood near the wondering Jack Gedney.
"You wrestle, you two!" said he. "One throw other, him have gun."
The meaning of this was clear enough: the ownership of the gun was to be decided by a wrestling bout between Jack Gedney and the young Wyandot.
The heart of the white youth gave a quick throb of delight, for there was no boy in the settlement within two years of his age whom he could not easily master in such a contest. He had thrown Will Burton, taller and older than he, with as much ease as he had every lad anywhere near his age.
The lads, having been told to begin, lost no time in doing so. It was fortunate for Jack that his opponent proved to be left-handed, since that gave Jack the hold which he wished. With their arms encircling each other, and the hands clasped in front, their heads bent slightly forward, so that they could watch each other's feet, the struggle began.
At this juncture the question came to Jack Gedney--
"If I do throw this fellow and win, will the chief keep his promise?"
It must be confessed that there was little reason to believe that Hua-awa-oma (He who fights without falling) would show the least regard for his pledge. This, however, did not weaken the arm of Jack Gedney, who, bending his body slightly forward and downward, suddenly caught his opponent on his hip and flung him on his back before the fellow could prevent it. Jack fell so heavily across him that he almost forced the breath from his body.
But Arowaka was on his feet scarcely a second behind Jack, who was given no time to see how the chief took it, when he found both shoulders seized by his opponent.
Jack was quick to do the same, so that the two contestants faced each other. The young Wyandot took a lesson from his fall, and he was so guarded that he defeated several efforts to catch him unawares.
All at once, like a flash, Jack, tightly grasping the arms of Arowaka, dropped his own shoulders, kicked the feet of the other from beneath him, and, with the most powerful effort he could put forth, lifted the Wyandot clear from the ground.
Finding himself going, Arowaka struggled desperately, his feet beating the air like frantic drumsticks, but he could not save himself. The next instant he shot over Jack's head as if fired from a gun, and struck the ground with a shock that seemed violent enough to break his neck.
CHAPTER VII.
JACK RESUMES HIS JOURNEY.
No one could have won the wrestling bout more fairly than did Jack Gedney, who, having thrown the young Wyandot by the usual side hold, had now tossed him over his head with such violence that the youthful redskin must have made a big dent in the earth where his crown struck it.
The victor was startled for a moment by the fear that he had seriously injured his opponent, and, running forward, he stooped over him.
"Is Arowaka hurt? I am sorry," he said, kindly. "I did not really mean to do it."
But the latter was on his feet like a flash, thus proving the toughness of his race. He was so angered that his small black eyes flashed fire. No doubt he ranked as a skilful wrestler among his own people, and he was chagrined beyond bearing by his defeat.
Grasping the handle of his knife, he drew it forth with the intention of rushing upon Jack; but before he could do so the chieftain, Hua-awa-oma, took part in the proceedings.
You know that the American Indians show little indulgence to their children, whom they rear much as wild animals rear their young. They are made to suffer hardships while infants that would prove fatal to you or me when double their age. The doctrine of forbearance, kindness, and patience, is unknown among those peculiar people.
The chief had watched the contest between his heir and the white boy, who was not as tall by several inches as the other. He had seen Arowaka beaten as if he were a child in the grasp of a giant. The chief was furious. Arowaka was in the very act of drawing his knife when his father seized one of his arms, and began belabouring him with his long bow, which he had caught up with the other hand.
Jack Gedney was so amazed for a few seconds that he could only stare in silence. Then he was pleased, for the son deserved his punishment, not because he was overthrown, but because he drew his knife upon the one who had fairly conquered him. In the midst of the odd scene Jack Gedney awoke to the fact that his darling rifle was leaning against the very tree where he first placed it for Arowaka to view. The chief and his son were closer to it than Jack, and the latter dared not make a rush to recover it while the Indian was in such a furious mood, but he stealthily edged that way, in the hope of getting near enough to seize it before the Wyandot could prevent him.
But Jack was disappointed. Such a severe punishment as the chieftain gave to his son could not, in the nature of things, last long. Probably a score of blows descended on the back and limbs of Arowaka when they ceased. The chief gave the youth an angry shove, as though he was ashamed of him, and then, turning about, he took a few quick paces and snatched up the gun.
As he seized the weapon, the Wyandot, without glancing at his disgraced son, who stood sullenly apart, looking askance at the scene, walked straight to Jack and handed it to him.
"Take him--brave boy--make great warrior--Hua-awa-oma love Jack."
Doubting the earnestness of the chief, the youth reached out his hand, expecting the weapon to be withdrawn as before; but it was not; and a thrill of delight passed through the lad when he felt that his rifle was once more in his own possession.
"Huo-awa-oma, I thank you; you speak with a single tongue; you are a brave warrior; you have spoken truth; we are friends for ever."
The Wyandot made no response to this, but turning his back alike on white and red boy, he strode angrily off in the woods, taking a direction that led him towards the clearing where stood the cabin in which Jack Gedney was born.
Hua-awa-oma had gone only a couple of rods when his son followed him. He did not speak, but as he moved away he turned his head for an instant and glanced at Jack.
What that look meant was beyond the power of the boy to guess, but he believed it was a threat--a warning that he had not yet finished with him.
However, Jack was not alarmed by the fierce glance of the dusky youth. He was so delighted over the restoration of his rifle that for a few minutes he could think of nothing else.
Making his way back to the trail, he resumed his walk towards the home of the Burton boys, who he knew were already impatient over his delay.
"It's very strange," he said, recalling the incidents that have just been described; "I don't believe that one Indian in a thousand would have kept his word like Hua-awa-oma. Having got hold of my gun, he would not have let go; but I suspect, after all, the chief is not such an honourable fellow as he seems to be from his actions. If Arowaka had made a better fight, even though I beat him, his father would have let him have the gun; but I threw him so easily that the chief was maddened, and he gave the gun back to me more because he was angry with his son than because of his promise to me."
I must say that this conclusion of Jack Gedney was worthy of one much older than he. You may think he showed an amazing amount of wisdom for a lad so young, but bear in mind that he was not only a bright boy, but he had the training that gave him a knowledge of the woods often denied to those of his years.
The presence of the two Indians in this neighbourhood could not fail to set Jack to thinking what it meant. The Wyandots were among those who had fought the white settlers with intense fierceness. Some of their leaders were the most daring and skilful of the combined tribes, and the warriors were as brave and treacherous as the Apaches of the present time.
The natural question that Jack asked himself was as to the meaning of the presence of this chief and his son so near to the settlement and the few scattered cabins of that section. One alarming fact could not be lost sight of: during the past summer and early autumn the Indians had been unusually hostile.
Some weeks before, Mr. Gedney was on the point of moving with his family to the settlement until the trouble should pass; but he disliked leaving the cabin and all the gains he had made since coming to the West. About that time, however, came news that drove away his fears, and he decided to stay, at least until more alarming tidings should reach him.
The thought that naturally came to Jack was that a chief generally had a number of warriors within call, and since they were Wyandots they were hostile to the whites, who were trying to take their hunting-grounds away from them. The chief himself had shown a friendship towards Jack which he might extend to his relatives, but of course that was mere guesswork.
While the boy found plenty of cause for serious thought, he took comfort in his faith in the bravery and address of his father. He had been through some of the most thrilling scenes on the frontier, and in all he had carried himself so as to win the praise of every one.
So it was natural, as you will see, that, though Jack was disturbed by his fears, he was able to find relief in his faith in his father.
"He knows all about Indians," said the youth to himself; "if they mean anything wrong, he will find it out; they will never be able to catch him asleep."
And with this conclusion the boy walked more briskly than before along the trail over which he had journeyed so many times.
CHAPTER VIII.
TRAVELLING SOUTHWARD.
All of Jack Gedney's doubts and misgivings left him for the time when he caught sight of the cabin of Mr. Burton. The moment he stepped into the clearing, where he could be seen, he was greeted by shouts from Will and George.
"We've been waiting more than a half-hour for you," called out the elder; "what kept you?"
"I didn't start quite as early as I wanted to, and I was stopped on the way by a couple of Indians."
Mr. Burton and his wife and daughter, who were within the cabin, came to the door when they heard this remark, for it was one in which it was natural that all should feel interest.
Jack followed the other boys into the house, where all sat down, and the visitor gave an account of his wrestling bout with the young Wyandot. When he came to relate how he sent the youth flying over his head, with his legs outspread like those of a frog, and of the trouncing the parent added to his defeat, every one of the listeners, including Mrs. Burton, laughed right merrily.
"It was bad enough to be tossed about in that fashion," said Mr. Burton, "but it was rough on the poor fellow to receive a whipping on that account."
"I would have given a good deal to see it," said Will who had been thrown more than once by the doughty Jack. "I can imagine how he felt when he went flying over your head, for I've been there myself."
"I was thinking," said Jack, more seriously, "that it might be that the chief and his boy are not alone in the woods. You know that a chief is pretty apt to have his warriors near him."
"More than likely you are right: what of it?" asked Mr. Burton.
The lightness with which this question was asked lessened the fears of Jack, and even made him ashamed that he was on the point of expressing them.
Then, too, Mrs. Burton, who was sometimes nervous about her children, showed no more signs of alarm than did little Ruth, standing by her side. Jack fairly blushed to recall how much he had been disturbed by his misgivings. He looked around at the boys, and asked abruptly--
"Well, are you ready, fellows?"
"Yes, and have been for nearly an hour."
"Then let's be off."
"How long do you think you will be away?" asked Mrs. Burton, putting her arms around each of her sons, and kissing them "good-bye."
"That depends on many things that can't be known now," said her husband, answering for the three. "I have no doubt they will spend one night in the woods, and perhaps two. I prefer that they should not be away any longer."
"We will not," said his elder boy, "unless something happens that we can't think of, and that won't let us get back."
"I don't thinkthatis likely; but if you are not here by the close of the third day from this I shall start to hunt you up. Then, if your explanation is not satisfactory, I know two boys who will be made to dance a war-dance to which that of the young Wyandot cannot be compared."
All laughed at this remark of the father, and he himself spoke with a smile; but the young gentlemen concerned knew, all the same, that it was no laughing matter. Their parent would carry out his threat in spirit and letter.
Young George Burton, who was short and stout, carried a blanket done up in a compact bundle, and strapped to his back, that being about the only burden of which he was given charge, the other extras being at the command of his big brother.
You will observe that not one of the boys had a dog with him. Jack Gedney had been the owner of a fine hunter, but that had been killed in a fight with two bears only a month before. Mr. Burton had a good animal, but he preferred to keep him at home, where his intelligence was valuable. He gave notice of the approach of strangers in ample time to take all precaution against surprise. He was especially useful at night, when the most cautious Indian would have found it hard to steal up to the cabin without detection.
Besides, the young hunters were in less need of such an animal than you would think. During these later days, when the instinct of the brutes seem to be necessary to the most skilled sportsman, that man would be foolish who expected much success without one to help him. But a hundred years ago game was so plentiful along the river Ohio that the hunter could do very well without the aid of a dog. In the broad stretches of clearing or prairie roamed droves, numbering many hundreds, of American bison, or buffalo, as they are wrongly called; while the bears who at that season of the year were hunting for food, and the deer, wolves, and other animals, were so numerous that there was no excuse for any one failing to find them.
Such a buoyant party of young hunters are not likely to linger long over their farewells. Within the three minutes following the warning of Mr. Burton of what would follow if they overstayed their time all three were out of sight of the cabin.
The direction taken was almost due south where there were many miles of forest in which some at least of the wild animals had not yet seen a white man; more than likely many of them had not met a redskin for if they had done so they would not have been allowed to live to remember it.
Since there was no path to follow, the boys walked beside each other. This was because they could talk better than in Indian file, and three such lads as those I am telling you about could not have been persuaded to keep still by the offer of several fortunes in gold.
It surely is unsportsman-like to go hunting in that fashion. Not only were they without dogs (for which I have given you a reason), but they kept together, and talked a great deal, whereas professional hunters would have separated whenever in the neighbourhood of game, and taken all pains to steal upon the animals before the latter could find out their danger.
The boys, however, stepped so softly upon the dry leaves that the rustling could be heard but a short distance, and they talked in such low voices that they might have passed close to a camp of Indians without discovery.
And then, too, no matter how great their interest in what they said, they were always on the alert. They glanced from side to side, just as Jack Gedney did when walking along the path between his home and that of his friends.
For a time the wood was quite open, so that they were able to travel with little trouble. Now and then came breaks in their conversation, caused by the big tree trunks around which they had to pass. Then, too, the undergrowth was so dense that they sometimes involuntarily dropped into Indian file, and advanced in silence. In other parts of Kentucky there were long stretches of cane-brake so close that an Indian has passed within four feet of the fugitive for whom he was hunting without seeing him.
Young George Burton suffered more than the others from the running vines, which were not always seen. Some of these wound along the ground, like fine wire, and, catching in front of his ankle, did not break, but threw him forward on his hands and knees. He had so slight a distance to fall that it did not hurt him, and he joined the others in laughing over his slips. But all the same, it was anything but pleasant.
"Hurrah, here is a path!" called out Will, who was several steps in advance of the rest.
"I wonder what it means?" said Jack, as he and George hurried up beside him.
All three, however, quickly saw the explanation. It was a track made by animals in going to and from one of the "salt licks," as they are called, which are quite common in many parts of that section.
You know how fond animals are of salt. Well, there are spots in the country which I am telling you about where the water which oozes upward through the ground is so salt that, if left alone, it makes quite a deposit of that mineral. The wild beasts soon find it out, and lick the ground, so as to get the salt. The spaces sometimes cover hundreds of square feet, where the earth has been made as smooth as a planed board by the tongues of the different creatures in their quest for salt.
In some places the salt is so plentiful that the settlers used to gather there and spend days in getting it ready for domestic use. Daniel Boone was once engaged in doing this when he was captured by Indians, and kept a prisoner for a long time.
From some of the salt licks you might have seen the paths of wild beasts radiating outward, until, as the animals fell away from the trails, they were gradually lost in the wilderness.
"We shall be likely to find some game there," was the remark of Jack, after the three had stood several minutes looking down at the ground, where the imprints of hoofs and feet were so numerous that none of them could be identified.
"That's what we have come into the woods for," replied Will, with a laugh.
"Yes, though you know that in Kentucky we are apt to find spots where there are more wild beasts than we can get along with comfortably."
CHAPTER IX.
ROYAL GAME.
"I wonder how far off the lick is," said George, looking along the path, which the eye could trace for several rods.
"There is but one way of finding out," replied his brother; "and that is to follow the trail to the lick."
Jack gazed in the other direction, where the trail could be seen for a greater distance before it wound out of sight.
"The path is so plain," he said, "that I don't believe the lick can be far off."
"If we should come here early in the morning we should be likely to find more of them."
"I don't think we shall have much trouble in finding enough to keep us busy, and to give you another trial with that fine gun of yours."
Since there was reason for believing they would soon meet some of the animals of which they were talking, the boys were wise enough to act like the young hunters they claimed to be.
Will took the lead, Jack coming next, with George in the rear, all walking close together. Of course the gun of each was loaded, and, though carried over the shoulder, was ready for instant service.
"Keep your eyes open," was the unnecessary advice of Jack to their leader, "for we don't want you to fall over some beast before we see him."
"You needn't fear for me," was the confident reply of Will; "and don't you forget that some of them may be coming from the other way."
"George must attend tothem," said Jack, glancing over his shoulder at the youngest member of the party, who also looked behind him on hearing the remark.
"This blanket, strapped like a knapsack behind my shoulders, is handy," remarked George, with a laugh. "If a painter would only use his paws on it he wouldn't hurtmemuch."
"A painter ain't so foolish as that," said Jack. "He knows too well how to get at a fellow of your size to waste any time in tearing up blankets."
"'Sh! here comes something!" exclaimed Will, in a hushed voice, stopping short, and motioning to the others to do the same.
A second later the leader stepped quickly from the path, and ran a few paces to a large tree, behind which he screened himself. The others quickly did the same, for, as you may well know, the large trunks were so handy that it was an easy thing to do.
Brief as was the time taken, it was enough to bring into sight the animal whose approach Will had learned by the sound of his feet upon the solid ground.
The huge bushy head of a bull bison loomed into sight, as he ambled along the trail at a leisurely gait, on his return from his dessert of salt. He looked frightful enough when viewed from the front, and it is probable that he would have charged upon the whole party of boys had they tried to stop him; but he is an animal little feared by the hunter, and not one of the three boys felt the least misgiving on the approach of the big beast.
His action showed that he had not observed the young hunters as they dodged from his path, and therefore they were the bolder in peeping from behind their shelter.
A moment after the bull came in sight, another was seen to be walking a short distance behind him. Then another and another appeared, until seven were counted, walking along the trail in their lazy fashion.
Nothing would have been easier for the boys than to have dropped three of the animals in their tracks. As each one reached his fore leg forward he exposed a portion of his body through which a bullet could have been sent directly into his heart.
Not a shot, however, was fired. There was not enough danger in bringing down this kind of game to suit the boys, who wanted something of a more exciting nature. They therefore allowed the beasts to pass by unharmed, though Jack resolved to give them a scare.
In darting among the trees to find a hiding-place, George ran in front of Jack, so that the latter was thrown a few paces to the rear of the brothers. Just as the fine-looking bull came opposite, Jack, leaving his gun leaning against the tree, dashed out, threw up both hands, and shouted.
He expected that the startled animal would plunge away at the top of his speed, but he did not.
Those who were following the leader flung up their heads each with a snort, and ran off among the trees; but the leader, stopping short, looked inquiringly at the youngster, as though trying to learn his species. Then he, too, uttered a snort, and dropping his big head, charged straight at the boy.
It would be putting it very mildly to say that Jack was surprised. When he saw his danger he was less than a dozen paces from the beast, which crashed like a steam-engine through the bushes, undergrowth, and among the trees.
"My gracious!" gasped the lad, wheeling about like a flash, and breaking for shelter; "shoot him, boys, or it's all up with me!"
Jack, however, proved his readiness of resource by making a running leap at a large limb, a short distance away. Seizing it with both hands, he pulled himself out of reach, just as the bull thundered past beneath him.
The brute was trammelled in his movements by the trees, else he would have been likely to overtake the boy before he could secure the refuge.
Seeing that his victim had escaped, the bison looked up at him with an angry snuff, then turned slowly about and made his way back to the path, leaving his companions to do as they chose.
Jack wondered why, brief though the incident was, his friends had not fired at the bull, who charged him with such fury; but when from his perch he looked around for them, he understood very well why they held their peace.
Seeing the beast depart, the brothers stepped from behind the respective trees that had sheltered them. Both were still shaking with laughter to such an extent that they could hardly stand, and they could not have aimed a gun at the bison had he been within a rod of them.
Jack was inclined to lose his temper when, after scowling at them for a full minute, he saw no signs of a decrease in their mirth. But by-and-by he began to see the ludicrous side of the picture, and he too broke into laughter. Dropping lightly to the ground, he caught up his rifle, and joining his friends, said--
"I started out to scare that old bull, but it looks as though he scared me."
"I should say he did, and----"
But Will dropped back against the tree, his brother doing the same, and both unable to speak another word.
Jack coolly sat down on the ground, saying--
"When you have finished we'll go on."
There is nothing which does a person more good than a hearty fit of laughter. That being so, it is safe to say that the Burton brothers never before had so much good done them.
The end, however, soon came, and shaking themselves together, as may be said, the three came back to the trail, along which they continued their way towards the lick.
They took the same order as before, and all were on the alert. Now and then Jack noticed the shoulders of their leader shaking in a way that told him he was laughing again over the figure cut by Jack when he set out to scare the bull. After a time this ceased altogether.
It was yet quite early in the day, and the boys expected when night came to be a long way from their friends. They would have felt themselves poor hunters if they did not spend a night in the woods, even though within easy reach of home; and since Mr. Burton had given his boys permission to stay a couple of nights in camp, it could be set down as a certainty that they would do so.
The experience of the young hunters on their jaunt through the Kentucky woods proved not only of the most stirring kind, but it was marked by a number of adventures the like of which they had never known or heard of before. Indeed, it may be said that this feature began with Jack's fight with the panthers the night before, when, instead of meeting only one, he ran against two. Of itself this was not so remarkable, but it was the first instance known to him.
The boys naturally felt confidence in themselves, for they were three in number, and each had a good gun. Surely they ought to be more than enough for anything in the nature of a wild animal; and yet, when they least expected it, they ran into a peril of which none of them dreamed.
"My gracious!" suddenly exclaimed Will, turning short around; "here comes a hundred bears!"
Now it is not to be supposed that there was anything like the number which the lad in his excitement declared, but what he did see was enough to terrify any one.
Lumbering along the trail, directly towards them, was a black bear of large size, and there were two at least behind him. These three were discovered at the same moment, and the unusual sight led Will to believe that it was only the head of a procession coming from the salt lick a long distance away.
"Let's take to the trees," said Will, leading the way into the wood. "It won't do to fight all them."
"Hold on," replied Jack, standing his ground. "I didn't come out to hunt game, and then run away from it when found."
"You were the first one to do it, though," retorted Will. "You can stay if you want to, but I don't."
George followed his brother, but Jack, true to his word, stood his ground, ready to meet the bear.