Camp-fire and Wigwam Part 19

"'Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see G.o.d.

"'Blessed are the peace-makers: for they shall be called the children of G.o.d.

"'Ye have heard that it has been said, thou shalt love thy neighbor, and hate thine enemy:

"'But I say unto you, love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you.'"

Deerfoot read these extracts from the Sermon on the Mount, with which he was so familiar that he could have repeated it all without looking at the printed page. Then raising his eyes to the wondering face of Hay-uta, he added:

"Let my brother listen, for these are the words of the Great Spirit, which he speaks to all his children; if they will obey, there shall be no unhappiness in the world:

"'_Therefore all things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them: for this is the law and the prophets._'"

The Sauk warrior was never so stirred in all his life. He had seen white men read from books, and he held a misty idea of how it was done, but he never knew one of his own race who could interpret the meaning of the curious figures made by some incomprehensible means on paper.

It was impossible that he should grasp the height and depth of that sublime utterance, which is of itself the very essence of the Christian religion; but they were as clear as sunlight to Deerfoot, who had pondered them many a time since he sat at the feet of good Mrs. Preston, who presented him with the Word of Life.

Closing the Book and putting it away, he proceeded to preach his sermon to the Sauk warrior. Deerfoot a.s.sumed the sitting position, and used both hands in his frequent gestures. Hay-uta reclined on his side, supporting himself on one elbow, while he fixed his eyes on his teacher and drank in every word.

"The Great Spirit made all people--the white, the red, the black man, and him whose face is the color of the breast of Deerfoot's hunting shirtfor there are men whose skins are yellow, and others who are brown. He wishes them to live like brothers, but they do not. More of the pale faces are evil than good; they use the red men ill, and the red man loves to fight his enemies, but they grieve the Great Spirit. Let Hay-uta pray to the Great Spirit; let him never lie down or rise without talking to Him; let him stay his hand when it would strike a blow in anger; let him forgive his foes; let him seek to do the will of the Great Spirit, and a sweet peace shall fill his heart, such as he never knew before. Let my brother do that; let him tell the good news to his friends; let him listen to the words of the missionaries and talk to his people.

"The father of Deerfoot was a chief of the Shawanoes, who loved to fight; Deerfoot when a child was a wildcat in his hate of his enemies and of the pale faces; but the Great Spirit whispered in his ear, and he became another being. It was the Great Spirit who told him just now that danger threatened him. Hay-uta knows that Deerfoot could have slain him had he wished to do so; but he never wished him ill; he first showed him he was his master, that Hay-uta might listen to his words; will my brother forget what Deerfoot has said to him?"

Every being, whether groping in the night of barbarism or walled in by the skepticism of an advanced civilization, has felt at one time or another, an irrestrainable longing to draw aside the veil which shuts out the great hereafter, and solve the mystery of the life that is to come. Many a time is the heart stirred to its uttermost depths by the chastening hand of affliction, or when gazing on the glories of the stars and firmament, or when listening to the meanings of the vast deep, the soft sighing of the winds in the forest, or the lisping prayer of infancy. No proof of the immortality of the soul can equal that of its very yearning for immortality, and dim, strange, half-heard whisperings of the Beyond become voices more convincing than all the scientific scoffing and brilliant ridicule of those whose learning carries them beyond the trusting faith of childhood, and stops just short of the grandeur of the light of perfect knowledge.

When Deerfoot addressed his question to the Sauk warrior, the latter did not answer, but continued gazing into his face as though he heard not the words, and his thoughts were far away. The Shawanoe was wise enough to suspect the truth, and refrained from repeating the question. He, too, held his peace, and for several minutes the strange scene lasted.

The two Indians looked at each other without speaking.

Meanwhile the afternoon was drawing to a close, and darkness was creeping through the forest. The camp-fire had burned so low that it gave out no light, and the figures of the warriors began to grow indistinct.

Deerfoot felt that he had sowed the seed, and he had only to wait for it to bear fruit. He arose, and stepping closer to the fire, stirred it until it gave forth a flame which lit up the surrounding gloom. Still Hay-uta remained motionless and silent.

Perhaps it has not escaped the notice of the reader that when the Sauk stood with folded arms before his conqueror, and asked him to bury his knife in his heart, he said that the son of the pale face would point the finger of scorn at him. Deerfoot noticed the curious words, and he felt that the moment had come when he should learn their full meaning.

"Where is the village of my brother?" he asked in his gentle way.

The Sauk aroused himself and slowly rose to his feet. Glancing through the firelight at his questioner, he pointed to the west.

"Two suns' journey away is the home of Hay-uta. There are his squaw and pappoose. He left them two suns ago to hunt for the scalps of his enemies; but he will hunt no more; he will go home, and on his way will think of the words that Deerfoot has said to him."

"It is well he should do so; but my brother spoke of the son of the pale face. Why is he in the village of the Sauks?"

"He was brought there in the last moon; the Sauks found two pale faces in the woods."

"Where is the other?"

"Some of the Sauks took him by another path; Hay-uta knows not where he is."

"Was harm done him?"

"Hay-uta cannot answer."

"Tell me of the pale face that is in the village of the Sauks with my brother."

The warrior, a.s.sisted by the questions of Deerfoot, who kept down the deep interest he felt, told all he knew. When he had finished, as the reader may well suspect, Deerfoot was sure he had gained most important knowledge. He was satisfied beyond all doubt that the prisoner in the village of the Sauks was Jack Carleton, whom he had set out to find, and for whom he feared he would have to hunt for many moons before learning whether he was alive or dead.

Suddenly the Sauk rose to his feet and stood in the att.i.tude of listening, as though he had caught some signal. Deerfoot knew he was mistaken, for had it been otherwise, he too would have noticed it.

"Hay-uta bids his brother good bye," was the abrupt exclamation of the warrior, who caught up his blanket and, without another word, pa.s.sed from sight in the wood, leaving the astonished Deerfoot alone.

CHAPTER XXIII.

IN THE LODGE OF OGALLAH.

From what has been told concerning Deerfoot, the reader knows that the tribe which held Jack Carleton prisoner were Sauks, or Sacs, as the name is often spelled. They belonged to the great Algonquin division, and, when first known to Europeans, inhabited the country near Detroit River and Saginaw Bay, but were driven beyond Lake Michigan by the powerful Iroquois. They themselves were of a restless and warlike nature and were the bitter enemies of the Sioux and Iroquois. They were the allies of the famous war-chief Pontiac who besieged Detroit so long, and, during the Revolution fought on the side of the English. They were closely a.s.sociated with the Foxes, and frequently moved from one section of the country to another, in which respect they resembled the majority of American Indians.

The chief who has been referred to as Ogallah was one of the most fiery-tempered and quarrelsome members of the Sauk tribe. In one of the expeditions against the Sioux, he not only performed wonderful deeds of daring, but tomahawked several of his own warriors, because, in his judgment, they showed a timidity in attacking the common foe. One of the Sauks who fell by the hand of the wrathful sachem was the brother of the leading chief. This precipitated a fierce quarrel between the two, the upshot of which was that Ogallah, and a number of followers, drew off from the main tribe and began "keeping house" for themselves. Migrating southward with the purpose of placing a long stretch of country between them and the parent tribe, they finally erected their lodges on the banks of a stream on the Ozark region, in what is now Southern Missouri and upper Arkansas.

I have already said the Indians gave the white men little trouble in that section during the pioneer days. In that respect, no comparison can be made with Kentucky and Ohio. As early as 1720, the lead deposits in Missouri attracted notice, and its oldest town, Saint Genevieve, was founded in 1755. St. Louis became the depot for the fur trade of the vast region beyond, and at the breaking out of the Revolution, was a town of considerable importance.

The warrior Hay-uta with whom Deerfoot had his remarkable interview was a fair representative of the Sauk nation, and especially of that division which was under the following of Ogallah. Some of the warriors were constantly roaming through the wilderness in quest of scalps. While they were nothing loth to engage in a scrimmage with the hunters and trappers, yet they preferred those of their own race above all others.

No Sioux or Iroquois could have approached within hundreds of miles without the certainty of an encounter with the warlike Sauks.

The Sauk party which appeared so close to the settlement of Martinsville had been out for several weeks looking for "game" in the form of Sioux, who lived far to the northward. They had found some of it too, and were returning home in a leisurely manner. They took a careful survey of the settlement, and even discussed the wisdom of making an attack on it; but they saw it could not be destroyed by so small a force, and though they might have shot several of the settlers before they could know their danger, they decided to pa.s.s on without making any demonstration at all.

When Jack Carleton and Otto Relstaub walked up to the party, it was no more than natural that they should be made prisoners. No particular reason can be a.s.signed for the separation of the party, one division of which took Jack and the other Otto, except that a survey of the land pa.s.sed over could be better made by that means. However, this point will be dwelt upon more fully in another place.

Probably no person ever played the part of captive among a tribe of savages without devoting most of his thoughts to the question of escape.

It is inevitable that he should do so, for the fate is so painful in every respect that, but for the hope, one would be ready to lie down and die.

Jack had turned the question over and over in his mind, and had done his utmost to give his captors the slip while on the road, but misfortune attended every venture, and at last he found himself in the lodge of the chieftain Ogallah himself, where it looked as if he was likely to remain indefinitely.

"Well, this beats everything," he exclaimed, after finishing the meal and seating himself at the side of the lodge, so as to be out of the way of the housewife, as she moved back and forth and here and there while attending to her duties; "I've come a long distance through the woods, and it'll take some time to find my way back to Martinsville, after I once make a start."

He could not persuade himself that his captivity might last for months and possibly for years. He was confident that no matter how vigilant the watch maintained, he would gain a chance to give the Indians the slip within two or three days at the furthest.

"I did my best to make Ogallah and the others think I wasn't anxious to leave, but the work was all thrown away. These people are not fools, and no matter how well I may act, they know of a surety that the whole prayer of my life is to part company with them."

The conclusion reached by Jack was common sense, though the story-writers sometimes make it appear that the keen minded American Indian may be duped in that transparent fashion. The utmost that Jack Carleton could hope to do was to show his captors that, while he longed to return to his friends, he saw no means of doing so, and therefore was not likely to make the attempt. Such he resolved would be his course.

The boy was fatigued in mind and body, and, when he bowed his head in prayer (much to the astonishment of Ogallah and his squaw), and lay down on the bison robe, he sank into a refreshing slumber, from which he did not awake until morning, and then, when he did so, he came to his senses with a yell that almost raised the roof.

The Sauks, like all their race, were extremely fond of dogs, and the mongrel curs seemed to be everywhere. Jack had noticed them trotting through the village, playing with the children and basking in the sun. A number sniffed at his heels, as he pa.s.sed by with Ogallah, but did not offer to disturb him.