CHAPTER XX.ANOTHER NIGHT VISITOR.
Deerfoot the Shawanoe was convinced of one thing—the Wolf would trouble him no further that night. What he might do in the future must be left for the future to tell. Whether the few words that he had dropped should prove the good seed of which I have spoken, or whether they should be choked up by thorns, not even the Wolf himself could tell.
The young warrior showed his convictions by flinging some wood on the fire, so that its blaze filled the cavern, and preparing for sleep. He first sat down and pulled out the knife of the Wolf, whose blade took on an additional gleam from the cleansing it had received in being forced into the flinty earth. He examined it with no little curiosity, though it was similar to his own.
A glance, however, showed that it was an inch or two longer. It was straight and oval-shaped, the blade not quite two inches wide, with a handle that had been cut from a deer's horn and fitted with no slight skill. Whether it was the product of aboriginal ingenuity or was the work of some cutler of the Caucasian race could only be guessed, the matter really not being worth the trouble of guessing. Its two edges and the point were very sharp. Deerfoot having laid aside his gun, grasped the blade in his left hand and circled it through the air like a swordsman at play. He was so pleased with it that he decided to keep it. He would not throw away the one that had served him so well, but would present it to Fred Linden, while he retained the one with which he was sure he could do better work.
It was singular that while the Shawanoe was turning the weapon over in his hand, and examining it with so much interest, that the occasion for its immediate use should come, but so it was.
He was on the point of shoving it in behind his belt and lying down to sleep, when a movementof the bushes outside was heard. It was so distinct indeed that he knew it was not caused by a person.
The rustling was accompanied by a scratching sound and low growl. Turning his head, he saw an immense wolf standing at the entrance of the cavern, his whole figure revealed in the firelight. With his jaws parted and his form erect, he was a formidable creature, before which almost any one would have recoiled. He would have advanced straight to an attack upon the young warrior but for the fire which partly interposed. Even as it was, he seemed making ready to leap at the throat of the youth, who was sitting on the blanket, looking coolly at him.
It would have been the easiest matter in the world for Deerfoot to catch up his gun and shoot him dead, but he chose to do otherwise. Drawing one of the embers forth by the end that was not burning, he held it before him in his right hand, and, grasping the knife in his left, ran lightly toward him, as though he meant to jam it into his eyes.
The bravest animal can not stand unmovedbefore such an attack, and the namesake of the human enemy whisked about and darted out of the cavern with the Shawanoe close behind him. The former bounded a half dozen steps, pausing on the very spot where the hostile warrior was first seen, and facing about, as if to observe whether his foe dare follow him any further. But Deerfoot had him now where he wished, and he flung the torch aside among the undergrowth, where it lay smoking for a few minutes before it went out.
The fierce animal must have been of the opinion that he too had his antagonist where he wanted him, for, without the least hesitation, he uttered a snarling growl and made two leaps straight at him. The first carried him a little more than half the intervening distance, and the second was meant to bear Deerfoot to the earth.
The young warrior, however, stepped lightly to one side, so that the wolf missed him altogether, and would have been forced to wheel about and make a second attack had the chance been given him, but at the instant it landed, the left hand, grasping the long, keen knife,shot forward with great force and lightning-like swiftness, and was buried to the hilt in the throat of the brute.
It was a blow as effective as a cannon ball could have been, for the knife clove the seat of life in twain, and the beast rolled over on the earth dead, almost before it could emit a single yelp of agony.
Deerfoot stood a moment surveying the carcass before him, and then, with no more excitement than he would have shown in speaking to Fred or Terry, he said: "'Tis a good weapon, and will serve Deerfoot well."
Then he walked to the tiny brook, carefully washed the gleaming blade, shoved it behind his belt, where it was held in place without the sheath that clasped the other, and walked back to the cavern. The boys had not been disturbed by the outcry of the wolf, and Deerfoot, throwing some more wood on the flames, lay down on the blanket, drew it partly about him, and in ten minutes was asleep, not opening his eyes again until the light of morning streamed into the cavern and only a few smoldering embers were left of the camp-fire.
He smiled when he looked upon the two youths, who were still soundly sleeping, all unconscious of the stirring events that had taken place during the darkness. There was no call for a renewal of the fire, and, after spending a few minutes in communion with the Great Spirit, he passed outside the cavern, drank from the clear water in the brook, and laved his face and hands.
Just as he finished, Fred Linden emerged, rubbing his eyes and yawning, while Terry Clark was close behind him.
"Good morning, Deerfoot!" called the former; "it was just like you to let us sleep all night while you kept watch: to-night you must let us take our turn."
"Fred has exprissed me own sintimints," added Terry; "we have had so much slumber that we can kaap awake for a month. Helloa!"
The gaze of the boys at that moment fell on the body of the wolf, stiffened in death.
"You have had visitors," said Fred; "my gracious, but he's a big fellow! Killed by a knife thrust too, that looks as if it had gonehalf way through his body; how was it, Deerfoot?"
The Shawanoe waited until they had finished bathing their hands and faces, and then he quietly told them the story, including the account of the warrior's visit. As you may well suppose, the boys opened their eyes, and Terry, running inside, brought out the blanket, which had been folded in such a manner that the knife of the Winnebago passed through three thicknesses of the cloth.
"And to think that we slept through it all!"
"Begorrah, but wasn't it lucky that we didn't have the blanket wrapped about us?" gasped Terry, who was in earnest in his momentary belief of the narrow escape of himself and companion.
"It is well that you kept guard last night; neither of us would have heard the approach of the Winnebago; and wouldn't have known any thing about the other wolf until he lit on our shoulders."
"My brother is mistaken," said Deerfoot; "he is like the rattlesnake; he gives warningbefore he strikes; I heard him growl, and he stopped at the entrance to the cavern, afraid of the fire."
"Why didn't you shoot him?"
"Would he have died more quietly, or with less pain than from the knife? It is the knife that the Winnebago left; Deerfoot wanted to learn whether it would serve him well."
"And I should think ye ought to be satisfied, as a cousin of me own once remarked after working five years for a man without any pay excipt starvation and kicks."
"The knife proved itself a good one," said Fred; "but the poorest knife would be just as effective in your hands."
Deerfoot withdrew his own weapon from its skin sheath, and handed it to Fred.
"Let my brother carry that, for the hour may come sooner than he thinks when it will be of use to him."
Fred accepted it gratefully, saying, as he managed to find place for it somewhat after the manner of Deerfoot:
"If I can handle it with half of your skill, it will serve me well indeed, but that can never be."
Deerfoot placed the larger weapon within the sheath from which he had withdrawn his own and made no reply to the compliments of his friends. He had heard many such before, but he placed no value upon them. He regarded himself as simply trying to use in the best way the gifts of the Great Spirit. His many escapes from death and injury were due solely to God's protecting care, and he could never take to himself any credit for what he did.
The excitement of the boys having subsided, the three sat down in front of the cavern to eat their breakfast. Enough of the food brought by Fred was left to give each and all the meal needed, but when they were through, not a particle was left; henceforth they must depend upon what their rifles brought them for support while on the way to the camp in the Ozarks.
"We have two or three days' travel yet before we can reach camp," said Fred, while they were making ready to resume their journey; "but I don't think we shall want for food. What troubles me the most is that scamp of a Winnebago. You have spared himtwice, but I don't believe it will make a friend of him."
"He was so boilin' mad," added Terry, "because he lost his gun that now that he has also lost his knife he may get so much madder that he'll flop over and become pleased again."
This, however, was a kind of philosophy to which the others could not agree. Deerfoot owned that he was in doubt; the sentiment of gratitude is not one of the chief virtues of the American race, though many story-tellers would have us believe that it is. There have been instances known where a red man has shown something of the kind, but as a rule they have no more of it than had the frozen serpent that was warmed in the bosom of him who proved his foolishness by making the experiment.
CHAPTER XXI.THE CAMP OF THE WINNEBAGOS.
Now that the little party had started once more toward the camp in the Ozark Mountains, they moved at a brisk pace. It took them but a short time to reach the main trail, where there was a short pause while Deerfoot made what may be called a microscopic scrutiny of the ground.
The result did not please him, for he saw the proof that the Wolf had turned to the right, and had preceded them over the route which they were to follow. He would have been better satisfied had he crossed the trail or turned the other way. The fact that he had gone southward meant that the main party which he was seeking to join were in that direction, though the keen eyes of the Shawanoe could detect no signs that they had trodden the same ground. That signified nothing, however,as they might have pursued a slightly different route, falling back upon the main path further on.
Deerfoot, in telling his young friends what he had learned, added that he had no doubt that they would hear from the Winnebagos again, and possibly at an hour when least expected. Fred Linden was disturbed more by the knowledge that the party were approaching the camp where his father and his companions were unsuspicious of the danger. They could easily steal close enough to the cabin to shoot down all three without warning.
When he mentioned his fear to Deerfoot, that sagacious young warrior told him that he saw no cause for anxiety, though he could not deny that something of the kind might take place. His theory was that the Winnebagos were not disposed to attack any party of whites in mere wantonness, the act of the Wolf being the whim of a single gnarly-brained warrior.
Be that as it may, our young friends were anxious to make the best progress they could, and, for fully a dozen miles, they kept up their brisk gait. At the end of that time, the sunwas overhead, and they were obliged to stop on the bank of a broad, swiftly-flowing stream. The prints made by the hoofs of the horses that had passed that way some days before were plainly seen, though there had been a fall of rain since. A glance at the water showed that it was so deep that the hunters must have swam their animals across.
It would have been an easy matter for the boys to swim also, but they preferred to use a raft. Accordingly, they set to work, and it did not take them long to gather enough logs and driftwood to float all three. These were deftly fastened together by Deerfoot, who used hickory withes for that purpose, and, then, with a long pole which he cut and trimmed with his tomahawk, he pushed from shore.
The propelling pole was fully fifteen feet long, and in the middle of the stream, the boys were surprised to see that when one end was pressed against the bottom, no more than two feet were above the surface: the depth was much greater than they had suspected.
It was hard work to keep the clumsy raftmoving at such disadvantage, but Deerfoot would not yield the pole to either of his companions, and, after awhile, he drove it against the shore, and all stepped upon dry land, without so much as their feet having become moistened.
They had been carried some distance below the trail by the current, but they quickly regained it, and pushed on. Having eaten nothing since morning, all three were ahungered, but Fred and Terry grimly determined to wait for Deerfoot to suggest a stop before they asked for it. Had they but known that many a time, when on the tramp, he had gone two days and nights without taking a mouthful, they would not have been so willing to await his pleasure.
But though he would not have thought of stopping before nightfall had he been alone, he was too considerate to subject them to discomfort; but it was useless to stop, since as yet they had seen nothing in the way of game to shoot.
Terry and Fred were beginning to feel impatient with each other because of their mutualstubbornness when the Shawanoe, who had been walking quite fast, slackened his pace and turning his head, said:
"My brothers are hungry, and they shall have to eat."
"Ye couldn't tell us better news," replied the grateful Terry, "though I would be obliged to ye if ye would impart the information where there is any chance of our gettin' any such thing, as the people used to say whin me uncle on me mother's side offered to bet a sixpence on anythin'."
Deerfoot made no answer, but walking still more slowly, he was seen to raise his hand to his mouth. Then followed the peculiar cry that a wild turkey makes when it is lost from its companions. The Shawanoe knew that the birds were in the surrounding woods, though none had shown itself.
By and by there was an answer to the call from a point ahead. Asking the boys to wait where they were, he trotted lightly forward, and was not absent ten minutes when he came back with a plump turkey, whose neck he had wrung.
Since the lads had heard no report of a gun, they wanted to know by what means he had secured it. He replied that he had stood behind a tree and repeated the call until a group of the birds approached within a few rods, when he made a dash among them, and seized his prize before she could spread her wings and fly—all of which told of a dexterity that few others possessed.
In a brief while, a good dinner was boiled over the coals, a short rest taken, and the three were on the road again, it being their wish to travel further than on the day before. Had Deerfoot been alone he would have broken into a trot that would have doubled the distance before the set of sun.
But the trail over which they were walking grew rougher. It was so rocky in some places that it must have tried the endurance of the horses ridden by the hunters. Instead of being direct, it grew very sinuous, made so by the efforts to avoid many formidable obstacles that rose in front. All this was of little account to the dusky leader, though of necessity it prolonged the journey, and he was obliged toslacken his pace to suit those who were less accustomed to such work.
It was about the middle of the afternoon, when they were checked again by coming abreast of a stream that was too broad and deep to be forded. The trail, however, instead of entering the water, turned up the bank, and the three, under the leadership of Deerfoot, did the same.
This diversion continued for fully two hundred yards, when the path struck the water, the point on the other side where the horsemen had emerged being in plain sight. The former method was resorted to, and in less than an hour after reaching the creek the three had safely ferried themselves across. It was neither so broad nor so deep as the other, but it delayed them fully as much.
Within a half mile from the stream last crossed they came upon the trail of the whole Winnebago party. Just as Deerfoot suspected, they had taken another route, and had come back to the main path a good many miles away from where the Wolf left it the night before.
His experienced eye told him that they wereclose upon the company, who numbered precisely twelve—several more than he supposed. Whether the Wolf was with them could not of course be learned until a glimpse of the party themselves was obtained.
Matters had now taken such a shape that the Shawanoe told his companions that the utmost care must be used, since they were liable to stumble on the very ones whom they were anxious to avoid. He instructed them to allow him to keep fully a hundred feet in advance, and never to diminish the distance without orders from him.
This was a prudent step, and Fred and Terry did their best to carry out the wishes of their guide, who walked on at a moderate pace, without once glancing back at his friends, who he knew would respect what he had said to them.
Bear in mind that this arrangement was made toward the close of the afternoon of an autumn day. The three had not traveled more than two miles, with the leader so far in advance, when the gathering gloom became such that he would not have been visible to his followershad he not fallen back so as to keep in sight.
Finally, when less than a dozen yards separated them, and the graceful figure of the young Shawanoe looked like a shadow gliding in advance, he suddenly halted. The eyes of the boys were upon him, and they saw him raise his hand as a signal to stop; they obeyed without so much as a whisper.
He stood like a statue for two or three minutes, and then, turning his head without moving his body, beckoned them to approach. They could barely see the motion of his arm, as they stepped softly to his side; but before reaching him, they caught the glimmer of a light among the trees, somewhat in front and to the right. When they stood near him, they saw it more distinctly.
In a partly open space, near the invariable stream of water, were a group of Indians, some stretched lazily on the ground, some squatted like tailors, two busy cooking something over the fire, and nearly every one smoking long-stemmed, stone pipes. They were a sturdy set of warriors, who were likely to give a good accountof themselves in a hunt or fight, and both Fred and Terry knew who they were before Deerfoot, with his arm extended and his finger pointing toward them, said:
"It is the camp of the Winnebagos!"
CHAPTER XXII."KEEP TO THE TRAIL"
It was an interesting scene on which the three youths looked. There were a dozen Winnebago warriors lolling and smoking in camp, while two of their number were preparing their supper, by half-broiling it over the blaze and coals. Fred and Terry stood in silence by the side of Deerfoot, gazing upon the strangers with a curiosity such as no other sight could have inspired.
A small tree interfered somewhat with the view of Fred, and he took a step forward. Immediately the Shawanoe put out his arm and shook his head to signify that that would not do; they were as close as was safe. Then Fred shifted his position a little to one side, as you feel like doing in a public hall when a column is in front of you. To this Deerfoot offered no objection, and the lad was satisfied.
"Begorrah, but there's the spalpeen!" whispered Terry, in some excitement, pointing his finger toward the camp, and with no thought of the uselessness of such an act.
The others knew that he referred to the Wolf, who had caused them so much trouble, but they had already seen him. He was standing at one end of the group, with folded arms, while he scowled, and the firelight fell upon his features with such directness that the scowl could be plainly seen. He appeared to be looking at the two warriors busy with the fire, though more than likely his gaze fell indifferently upon them and the rest, all of whom were in his field of vision.
The tomahawk showed in his girdle, but of course he was without any other weapon, and Terry could not avoid a smile when he noted it and he had to say something despite the displeasure of Deerfoot.
"Do ye observe his left eye and the end of his nose where one of me blows landed? What could be foiner than the swell that ye see there? He will naad to use no black paint for siveral days, as me grandfather—"
At this point Deerfoot deliberately placed his hand over the mouth of the speaker, abruptly ending what he proposed to say.
Now, nothing could be clearer than that if the Winnebago party were in such plain view of the three youths, the latter in turn were liable to be discovered by them. They were standing beyond the circle of firelight, where the darkness screened them from sight, and, if one of the red men should look in that direction, he could not have seen them; but there was the probability that any moment one of the warriors might start out to reconnoiter their surroundings, in which event, discovery was almost certain. Besides, the exuberant spirits of Terry Clark taught Deerfoot that it was unwise to trust him in such a delicate position.
Altogether, the time spent in watching the Winnebagos was barely ten minutes. During that period, some of those reclining on the leaves got up, walked about and sat down again; others kept their feet, and one stepped to where the two were busy with a steak of some kind that they were broiling over thecoals, as though his hunger was making him impatient.
But the Wolf never stirred a muscle, and Terry afterward insisted that he did not wink his eyes, so motionless was he. The same scowl added hideousness to the painted face, and it was easy to understand that his meditations were of any thing but a pleasant nature.
Turning his back upon the camp, Deerfoot motioned for them to go back. They did so, he following on their heels until not the faintest glimmer of the fire could be seen. Then he led them by a round-about course to the trail beyond the camp, and explained his wishes.
He was now free to admit that there was reason to believe the Winnebagos intended an assault upon the three hunters among the foothills of the Ozark, and who were unsuspicious of such danger. Of course the Shawanoe had no direct knowledge that such was their purpose, but he was so convinced that he meant to take the utmost precautions against it.
He therefore proposed that he should linger near the camp until he could learn of a verity what their intentions were. If they meant toattack the Hunters of the Ozark, then he would hasten to give warning to Linden, Hardin and Bowlby, who, re-enforced by the three youths, would be strong enough to beat off an Indian party twice as strong.
In the meantime, Deerfoot wished Terry and Fred to push toward the camp with all the speed of which they were capable, he promising to follow as soon as he could. They had walked almost the entire day with scarcely a halt on the road, but he wished them to keep on into the night so long as they could. They would need nothing to eat before morning and between sundown and sunup they ought to make a long advance on their journey.
You will probably wonder why (the situation being such as was explained by Deerfoot), he did not keep company with the lads and help them in their forced march to the mountains. One reason was that he was convinced in the first place that a demonstration would be made by the Winnebagos against the Hunters of the Ozark, and he wanted to get both boys—especially Terry—out of the neighborhood as soon as he could; for their presence hamperedhis own actions. The safest place for them was in the strong cabin to the southward, and they could not get there too soon.
Yet they would certainly travel as fast in his company as by themselves, and Fred and Terry, therefore, could not see why he should stay behind instead of going with them; yet Deerfoot the Shawanoe never took a step of that kind without the best reason for it, as you will admit when it is made clear to you. To give this explanation would require such a long diversion from the thread of my story that you would be impatient. Before I am through with the history of Deerfoot, you shall know not only the reason for his course but for several other things that have been referred to in the stories told about him.
The confidence of Fred Lincoln and Terry Clark in the wonderful young Shawanoe was so perfect that they did not question any decision, no matter how little they failed to see its reason. If what he asked was in their power, they would bound at the chance of doing it, just as they did now.
He had a parting warning to give.
"Let my brothers make sure that they do not lose the trail; they must look at the ground often: when they do not see the path they must stop and await the rising of the sun; they can not reach the cabin too soon, but they can never reach it by going wrong;keep to the trail!"
The circuitous route which they had taken under the guidance of Deerfoot, had brought them back to the path at a point fully a hundred yards beyond the camp-fire, which had been started in the small open space only a few rods from the path. So far as they knew there was nothing now between them in the way of a direct advance to the cabin of their hunters.
"Fred," said Terry, after they were fairly under way, and while he almost stepped on the heels of his friend; "Deerfoot thinks we won't go more than five or six miles; let's show him that we ain't such babies as he thinks."
"I feel as you do; I propose that we keep it up all night."
"Will ye be kind enough to raich yer right hand over your lift shoulder and shake wid me on the same?"
Instead of doing precisely as asked, Fred laughingly turned about and shook hands with his friend, whom he loved and for whom he was ready at any time to risk his life. They were on their mettle and they meant to show the young Shawanoe that they were capable of doing much more than he seemed to believe. They intended that when, after a few hours, he started to overtake them, he would find that he had a good many miles further to travel than he supposed.
Had Deerfoot known of their thoughts he would have smiled and been pleased. He wanted them to do their best and he was willing, should it prove to be safe, to allow them to keep up the delusion that their gait could bear any comparison with the speed of which he was capable.
Meanwhile, the boys started in earnest to carry out their intention. Their only fear was that they might be hindered by the difficulty in keeping to the trail; for though the full moon was again overhead, and though many of the leaves had fallen from the trees, little light was there to help them.
But for a time, at least, the difficulty was much less than they expected. The path, though it continued to lead over rough places and around obstructions, sometimes up-hill and sometimes down, was still so clearly marked that Fred Linden went forward with scarcely a halt or any hesitation.
Though there are men who have walked their five and six hundred miles with little rest on the road, it is a severe task for any one to keep it up through an entire day and night, as you can soon become convinced by making the experiment; but Fred and Terry were sturdy, strong-limbed fellows, born and bred on the frontier, who were capable of standing a great deal. When, therefore, they meant to astonish Deerfoot by their progress during the night, they felt no distrust of their ability in that direction.
There was no reason why they should put any restraint on themselves, and they talked quite cheerily, Terry indulging now and then in some of his quaint remarks. But a tired boy does not feel like keeping up a lively conversation for any length of time, and so it cameabout that after awhile they walked steadily forward, for miles at a time, without exchanging more than a few syllables. Terry could see the figure of his friend with his rifle over his shoulder always a few feet in front, there being just enough light in the gloom to keep his form in sight, while Fred heard the steady tramp, tramp behind him, sometimes keeping pace with his own and sometimes falling "out of step."
"Helloa! this is too bad!" suddenly exclaimed Fred, coming to an abrupt halt; "I guess this ends our tramp for to-night."
CHAPTER XXIII.AN INFURIATE SHAWANOE.
WITH the departure of Fred and Terry, Deerfoot felt as though he had flung off a blanket that had been wrapped about his shoulders: his arms were now free and he could use them at will.
He shrewdly suspected that his young friends would fancy they had been put upon their mettle, and would, therefore, exert themselves to their fullest to meet his expectations. He was glad it was so, and he would have been much better pleased could he have known they were in the cabin at the foot of the mountains, or, better still, safe at their home in Greville.
Deerfoot now stealthily approached as close to the camp-fire as was safe. He screened his body behind a tree, but he was nigh enough to catch every word that was said in an ordinarytone, and he understood the Winnebago tongue well enough to want no interpreter.
The Shawanoe had hardly taken his position to act as cowen, when the venison steaks were about one-fourth broiled, which was enough to satisfy the parties interested. Those who had charge of the culinary operations divided the meat into a dozen slices, so that each warrior was provided for, and the feast opened. The strong animal appetites, and teeth like those of the steel traps that were set at the foot of the Ozarks, soon brought the feast to a close, after which the feasters walked the few steps necessary to the brook near at hand, and lying down on their faces drank their fill, just as so many pigs would have done, grunting with satisfaction as they came back and resumed their pipes.
All this Deerfoot had seen so often that it had no interest to him. He kept his eyes on two warriors—the Wolf and one whom he had never seen before. These two sat near each other on the ground while eating, and they talked together in low tones. Since none of those around could overhear the words, it wasimpossible for Deerfoot, with all his wonderful acuteness, to catch a syllable. He would have given a great deal could he have done so, for he suspected the dark plot that was taking shape in their dusky brains. There was a dangerous flash in the black eyes of the young Shawanoe while he watched their movements.
It was clear to him that the Wolf had lost prestige, instead of gaining sympathy by his last misfortune. Having gone out to gather wool he had come back shorn, to go out a second time and to come back shorn to a still more ludicrous degree. The manner in which the Wolf kept apart from the rest, affiliating only with the single warrior at his side, showed the feeling in the party.
It was easy to recognize the leader or chieftain, though his dress was precisely like the rest, but his air of authority told the story plainly enough. The Winnebagos were a fine set of men in their war paint, and, as I have said, were able to give a good account of themselves in any scrimmage in which they might become engaged.
As unexpectedly to the warriors as to Deerfoothimself, the Winnebago chieftain, who was standing on one side of the fire where his rifle with several others leaned against a tree, took his pipe from between his lips and spoke to the Wolf in tones which caused that redskin to look up in wonder. Seeing that the sachem hesitated, as if waiting for him to rise, the Wolf came nimbly to his feet, as did his friend at his elbow. The majority of the rest, however, sat still and showed no special interest in what was going on.
"The Wolf was the bravest of the Winnebagos," remarked the chief, "when our war parties met those of the Sauks and Foxes and Pottawatomies who dared to come into our country; the heart of the Wolf bounded with delight and no tomahawk was hurled with such swiftness as his: no gun was fired more often; no scalping knife took back more scalps to hang upon the ridge-pole of his wigwam.
"But the Wolf came across the Big Water and his heart longed for the scalp of the pale face; he went out to hunt for it; he came back; the tongue of the Wolf is not doubleand tells no lies; the Wolf met a Shawanoe warrior who took his gun from him.
"It was the young Shawanoe called Deerfoot; the Winnebagos have been told about Deerfoot, the friend of the white man; the heart of Black Bear (meaning himself) was angry; he was chief of the Winnebagos; he told the Wolf that he must go forth and bring back his rifle; the Wolf went; he did not bring back his rifle, but left his knife behind; Deerfoot saw him and took it away from him.
"Deerfoot is but a youth; he is not a mighty warrior; the Wolf must get his gun and knife; he must bring back the scalp of the Shawanoe, he shall take Wau-ko-mia-tan with him; each shall have his gun; let them bring back the scalps of Deerfoot and the two pale faces with him; then will Black Bear forget that the Wolf was not always a great warrior.
"Let the Wolf and Wau-ko-mia-tan make haste; the Winnebagos are on the war path; they will carry back with them the scalps of the pale faces who are gathering the skins of the beaver and otter and foxes by the base of the mountain."
It may be said that this little speech developed the plan of the Winnebago campaign. The Wolf had fallen so low in the opinion of his chieftain and brother warriors, that it was necessary for him to take heroic measures to restore himself. Seeing this, the sachem had just notified him that he must secure the scalps of Deerfoot and the two white boys with him. Wau-ko-mia-tan (who was the warrior that sat at the elbow of the Wolf), was to be his companion. The chieftain knew how closely the two were allied, and he indulged in the little fiction of allowing one to keep company with the other, when the truth was he was afraid to let the Wolf go alone. Since on each of the two former excursions he had lost something, the probabilities were that if he came back again, it would be without his scalp.
The eagerness with which the Wolf accepted this task, the moment he found that he was to have a companion, showed that he was an admirable representative of the average Indian: gratitude to him was a vice rather than a virtue.
The expression on the face of Deerfoot showedthat all forbearance was ended. He had twice spared the ingrate: he would do so no more.
Had the Wolf told his leader that the mercy of Deerfoot had touched his heart, so that his arm could never more be raised in anger against him, but that he would seek the scalps of the hunters at the base of the mountains, the Shawanoe would have felt an admiration for him. Had he sought out Deerfoot and asked for the return of his weapons (though that would have been very unlike his race), Deerfoot would have restored them to him. But now, as it was, when they should meet it would be as mortal enemies.
Nothing showed the vicious ingratitude of the Wolf more vividly than the fact that instead of waiting for the morning before entering upon his wicked enterprise, he started within three minutes after Black Bear, the chieftain, finished his little speech. The sachem picked up his own rifle from where it leaned against the tree and handed it to him, while Wau-ko-mia-tan stood at the other end of the group, until the warrior, his ugly face glowing like that of a demon, stepped to his side. Thenthe two, without a word or motion like a farewell, turned away and vanished in the gloom of the wood.
They had not taken a dozen steps, when Deerfoot glided from behind the tree and passed after them, as if he were the shadow thrown out by the light of the camp-fire. The expression on his face was such as would have hushed Fred Linden and Terry Clark to awed silence could they have seen it.
The two Winnebagos did not come directly back to the trail, but fell into it at almost the precise point where Deerfoot had led his two friends. They stopped a few minutes and talked in their low, guttural tones, none of which was understood by the Shawanoe, who listened with the closest attention.
There was considerable distance at that time between the warriors and Fred and Terry, who had set out with the ambition to keep up their traveling through the entire night. The Winnebagos did not wait long, when they moved on at their usual pace.
Less than a mile from the camp, the warriors again came to a halt and as before talked in alow voice. The point was where the wood was more open, so that the moonlight which found its way among the limbs above showed their forms quite plainly. More than that, enough of their words were audible to enable the listening Shawanoe, who had crept dangerously near, to catch their meaning.
The Winnebagos turned off at almost a right angle and left the trail behind them. The ground was broken, but they had not gone far, when it became evident that they were following another path, though it was so faintly marked that no eye except that of an American Indian could have discovered it in such an uncertain light.
As they advanced, the surface became not only rougher, but the grade which they ascended was so steep that it would have been tiresome to an ordinary traveler.
Suddenly Deerfoot himself wheeled aside from the indistinct path to which the Winnebagos clung and passed lightly and with great speed through the wood where no one had walked before. So swiftly did he make his way, that, though he crossed a deep ravineand went a considerable distance, it was less than live minutes before he came back to the shadowy trail.
Instead of keeping along this path, in the same direction as that of his enemies, he turned about and advanced to meet the red men who had dared to come that way. He walked with his usual noiseless step, and stopped on reaching the edge of the ravine over which he had leaped when it crossed his path only a few minutes before.
This gully was more than twenty feet in depth, and about half as wide. The trail led to the edge on one side, continuing on the margin directly opposite, so that any one who wished to keep to it was perforce compelled to leap the chasm—a slight task for any Indian, though it would have been easy to make a bridge by means of a fallen tree.
The moon was now directly overhead, so that a flood of light fell into the craggy ravine, lighting up the gray rocks and bowlders, the prostrate trees that had fallen from the sides, the vegetation along the slopes and the mossy grass that had been watered by the torrents whenthey roared through. The trees grew rank and close to the edge at the top—so close that some of them had slidden off and fallen part way below, carrying the gravel, sand and earth with the prong-like roots part way to the bottom.
So faint was the mark of the trail opposite that even with the help of the moonbeams, it took an eye as keen as that of Deerfoot to tell where his enemies would appear. But he coolly awaited them, though his calmness was the fearful calm of a fury such as even he rarely knew.
CHAPTER XXIV.THE DEFIANCE.
The expression of the face of Deerfoot was terrible. The whole fury of his nature was at white heat. He knew that the two Winnebagos had set out to commit a fearful crime, and it was his work to stay their hands. There was but the single way in which they could be stayed.
The young Shawanoe kept back a couple of paces from the edge of the ravine, where the shadow of the stunted trees above would hide him from his foes when they should come in sight. He held his gun pointed and cocked. Though his passion had the glow of the furnace, he was as calm as death.