Footprints in the Forest Part 26

By this time the sun was well down in the sky, and it was clear that if the elevation was to be reached before going into camp, several miles would have to be traveled by night, when the moon would give them scant light indeed; but both had done a good deal of that kind of traveling, and the prospect caused no uneasiness. The sight of some game or any thing which could be utilized as food would have been most welcome to the hungry lads.

Lest it may strike my reader that both were showing a degree of recklessness inconsistent with their training and character, it should be said that they kept their ears open for sounds from the rear. It was not considered possible for the p.a.w.nees to press the pursuit with any vigor without the discharge of more than one firearm. The instant such report reached the youths, such tardiness would end.

That report came just before the sun sank from sight. Faint but distant as it floated to them from across the miles of wilderness, it told (like the sound of Otto's gun when heard by Deerfoot) an important truth; the p.a.w.nees were on the southern side of the further ridge, and were pushing the pursuit of the boys with a persistency that left no doubt of their earnestness.

"I d.i.n.ks we petter goes fast," said Otto, breaking into a trot, which Jack imitated in order to prevent himself from falling behind. They kept it up until the gathering darkness forced them to moderate their pace. A couple of miles still remained to be pa.s.sed over, but their training rendered that an easy matter, and, but for the craving hunger, there would have been little choice between that and stopping short where they were.

The boys were relieved over one fact: they had come upon no broad stream or river. Indeed, they had seen but the one stream which proved such a means of enjoyment to them, and the configuration of the country rendered it unlikely that they would meet any thing of the kind, until after pa.s.sing the ridge where they expected to go into camp.

Another source of relief was the certainty that their long swim down the stream would be an obstacle to pursuit by their enemies. They would be compelled to make search before the trail could be recovered, and that would take till the rising of the morrow's sun.

And thus it was that, while hurrying on, they were shut in by darkness, and progress became difficult. Even had the moon been at its full, the dense shadows under the trees would have rendered the sense of touch more useful than that of sight, but, as it was, they were making good progress when Jack, who still kept a slight lead, exclaimed in an undertone:

"By gracious, Otto, there's a light ahead! What can it mean?"

"It means dot some wood ish burning, I d.i.n.ks."

Of one thing the boys were convinced--whoever had kindled the camp-fire was not a p.a.w.nee. None of them could have reached such a position in advance of the fugitives, and the villages of the tribe were so far to the north-west that no other beside the main party were in the neighborhood.

"Deerfoot told us that we must not camp this side of that ridge," added Jack, "so we'll keep on until we find out who our neighbors are."

This was an easy matter, since no effort had been made to hide the light of the fire, which was visible a long distance away. As is the case at such, times, it appeared to be closer than it was, both the lads expressing disappointment that it seemed to recede, like the _ignis fatuus_, as they walked toward it.

But when at last our friends halted within a few rods, they were amazed to see but a single warrior in camp. It required some maneuvering to make certain on the point, but the fact was not only demonstrated, but the equally astonishing truth was established that the warrior belonged to the Sauk nation.

Both lads were so familiar with that people that it was scarcely possible to err. In spite of what Jack Carleton had said about the similarity in appearance of all Indian warriors, there were peculiarities of dress and looks which identified them. More than that, the young Kentuckian recalled this one, whom he had seen during his own captivity among that people. He was one of the wildest revelers at the feast described in "Campfire and Wigwam", though generally he was reserved. What drew Jack toward him was the recollection that no one in the village showed more consideration toward him than did he who sat on the blanket smoking his pipe and looking into the fire, as if in deep reverie. He had interfered several times when the prisoner was threatened with violence, and was so consistent, indeed, in his chivalry, that when Jack had a.s.sured himself the Sank was alone, he walked forward with Otto at his heels, and offered his hand.

The red man showed no surprise, though he must have been astonished to meet the white youths so many miles from their own home. He rose to his feet, without any appearance of haste, shook hands with both, muttering something which was doubtless meant as a welcome. Jack managed to speak a few words in the Sauk language, but, for practical purposes, they might as well have remained unspoken.

But several facts were extracted from the Indian which added to the pleasure of the visitors. The Sauk was alone, he had not seen any Indians for several days, and he had some meat left from that which he had rudely broiled for his own meal. When I say he placed this at the disposal of the guests, it need not be added that in a short time there was none of it left.

The reason why the Sauk had fixed on that spot for his camp was that a tiny spring bubbled from under some rocks near at hand. The bowl-like cavity, in which it collected before rippling away among the gnarled roots of the trees, held enough to afford all they could wish. The added moisture of this spring, as is often the case, nourished a vigorous growth of succulent green gra.s.s, which was also turned to good account.

Just as the boys finished eating, they were startled by the whinney and stamp of a horse near them. They looked inquiringly at the Sauk, who smiled and nodded in a fashion which showed that the animal belonged to him. Instead of traveling the long distance on foot, as did our friends, he had ridden a horse, which had been cropping the gra.s.s close at hand when the boys came up. The latter's reconnoissance of the camp before presenting themselves failed to show the presence of the animal.

Observing the interest of the boys, the Sauk picked up a brand from the camp-fire, swung it over his head until it was fanned into a vigorous flame, and then motioned them to follow him, while he showed his steed, of which he was very proud.

The horse snuffed and displayed some timidity when the flame was brought near him, but a few words from his master quieted him, and he stood still while the three walked around and admired his points. The boys said nothing until they were through. Then Jack, with the firelight lighting up his face, looked at Otto, who laughed and nodded his head.

The two had discovered the fact that the horse before them belonged to Otto Relstaub, and was the one for which the poor lad had hunted in vain so long and which, therefore, was the cause of all the misfortunes that had befallen him and Jack Carleton.

CHAPTER x.x.xI.

A FATAL FAILURE.

Deerfoot the Shawanoe made known only a few of the thoughts which troubled him, when he hurried Jack Carleton and Otto Relstaub forward with orders to make no tarrying (except to cover their footprints), until they should reach the distant ridge, where, as I have stated, he hoped to join them.

But the conviction had come upon him that afternoon, that the crisis of the long hunt was at hand, and that success or failure, absolute and entire, was near. It will be admitted that they had been in situations of apparently much greater danger, but there was "something in the air"

which foretold stirring events.

While he said nothing of the absence of Hay-uta the Sauk, he was uneasy over it. His own delay was meant to be as much in his interest as in that of the boys. If it should prove that the Sauk needed the help of Deerfoot, the latter wished to be free to give it, and that could not be done so long as the care of the boys was on his hands. When they were out of the way, nothing could interfere with the marvelous woodcraft of the young Shawanoe.

The first point which Deerfoot established, so far as it was possible to do so, was that the four p.a.w.nees, with whom they had come in collision, were the only ones who had reached the neighborhood. The others were near the river, where they were first seen by our friends. The Shawanoe interpreted the reason of this state of affairs to be that, brave as the p.a.w.nees were, the majority were unwilling to pursue their enemies further. They had eagerly crossed the river to engage in the fight, but, learning that the Evil One and two companions were moving toward their distant hunting grounds, as though indifferent to pursuit, they came to the conclusion that they had had enough of the business, and refused to go further.

But among the party were four, who either were braver, or were impelled by a more rancorous hatred, for, as we have learned, they pressed toward the ridge, overtook the fugitives, and paid the penalty of their rashness by losing two of their number. The other couple fled in wild haste down the slope, and one of them never paused until he rejoined his comrades, to whom he told his terrifying tale. The fourth stopped when he had run a short distance, and, after a brief rest, began making his way back to the ridge again.

It probably occurred to him that, since their enemies would not believe it possible for any of the p.a.w.nees to return so soon, then was the opportunity to do effective work, and to get safely away. Accordingly he made his way with great care through the woods to the ridge, from which he had just fled in such mortal fear.

The return of this p.a.w.nee (who was the one held captive by Deerfoot and Hay-uta the night before), was executed with such skill, that the Shawanoe learned nothing of it. He believed none of the hostiles was near, though he acted as though he suspected the contrary.

Deerfoot now devoted himself to finding Hay-uta. He emitted several signals, such as the two were accustomed to use, and he was disturbed because they brought no reply. Knowing the territory given his friend, he decided to make search through it. Possibly some accident had befallen him and he needed help.

Fortunately Deerfoot had not hunted long when he was more successful than he expected to be. He caught sight of Hay-uta, who was sitting on the ground with his back against a rock, his arms folded, and his gaze fixed on the western horizon, toward which the sun was sinking. His fine rifle was leaning against the rock beside him, and his other weapons were in place.

The position of Deerfoot was such that he had a view of the face of the Sauk, and it took him but a moment to understand the meaning of the action, or, rather, want of action on the part of his dusky friend. Many days before Deerfoot had spoken strange words to the Sauk whom he vanquished; they were words that lingered in his memory, and finally sent him in quest of the youth, that he might learn more of their wondrous meaning. He had sought and had obtained that knowledge, and its length and breadth and depth were so infinite, that at times it mastered the warrior, who gave himself up to meditation until he lost consciousness of every thing else.

Deerfoot was half tempted to smile when he reflected that the vigilant Sauk, while engaged on a delicate duty, had forgotten all about it, even to the personal danger involved. Reflecting on the new and divine revelation, he had sat down where he believed he was not likely to be disturbed, and given himself wholly up to the sacred joy of the hour.

While he sat thus guns were fired, shouts were uttered, and signals were sent out that were intended for his ear alone, but he was no more conscious of them, than if he had been wrapped in slumber a hundred miles distant. No statue in bronze could have been more immovable than he.

Viewing the countenance of the Sauk, Deerfoot noticed the radiant light which seemed to glow through every feature, and which told of the great peace that was brooding in his heart.

O blessed hope! as free to the beggar at the gate as to the master within the palace; to the sinking mariner, as to the sceptered king; to the savage in the depths of his own solitudes, as to those who listen to the silver chimes of magnificent churches; thou art free to every man, woman and child, and to the uttermost islands of the sea! Beneficent Father! thine ear is ever open, and thine hand is ever stretched forth to save the perishing everywhere!

Deerfoot stood lower down the slope, where he instinctively screened himself behind a tree. He was watching the face of his friend, when he became aware that another individual was similarly employed.

Still lower down the slope, and about the same distance from Hay-uta as was Deerfoot, a p.a.w.nee warrior, who was creeping along noiselessly, rose to the upright position. He was bent so low at first that Deerfoot failed to see him; but when he straightened up behind the trunk of a tree, the Shawanoe shrank back a few inches, so as to hide himself. Then he watched the p.a.w.nee, who was less than a hundred feet distant.

The first sight showed Deerfoot that he was the warrior whom he and Hay-uta captured the night before, and who was given his liberty by them. More properly it was given to him by Hay-uta, who, you remember, played the part of Pocahontas to Captain John Smith. The whole thing was a scheme of the Sauk, who hoped thereby to make a "friend at court", and to secure an ally who would give them help in their quest for Otto Relstaub.

The p.a.w.nee, therefore, saw before him the party who, he must have believed, saved his life, when the captive was in such despair that he sang his death-song, and bowed his head to receive the crashing blow of the upraised tomahawk. Common grat.i.tude would have bound the p.a.w.nee to his preserver for life.

The red man must have been puzzled when he observed the abstraction of the warrior, but without losing time in studying the question, he c.o.c.ked his rifle and slowly brought it to his shoulder, keeping his eyes fixed on the warrior up the ridge, whose arms were still folded, and who was gazing vacantly in the direction of the setting sun. There could be no mistake about it: the p.a.w.nee meant to slay the Sauk.

But while the treacherous wretch was making his preparations, Deerfoot, with silent dexterity, fitted an arrow to the string of his bow. The p.a.w.nee was within easy range, and, before the latter could bring his gun to a level, the Shawanoe with his unerring left hand drew back the string of his weapon. The sight of the hostile seeking the life of the Sauk who had befriended him, stirred the heart of Deerfoot to a fury which he rarely felt. He had seen ingrat.i.tude before, but rarely was he moved as by the sight before him.

Confident of his aim, he meant to drive the shaft with such force, that, unless stopped by some bone, it would pa.s.s clean through and beyond the body of the p.a.w.nee, who, unconscious of his own peril, made his preparations with a deliberation which showed an almost inconceivable depth of hatred.

"Dog of the p.a.w.nee!" muttered the Shawanoe; "you shall have no time to chant your death song this time!"

The arrow was drawn almost to a head, but in his anger Deerfoot give it a quick pull, as expressive of the fierceness of his wrath. As he did so, a sharp, splitting sound was heard, and the center of his closed palm felt as if pierced by a hundred needles.

The bow which had never failed him before had splintered in the middle, and the poised arrow dropped to the ground, its nerveless point falling between the moccasins of the astounded Deerfoot, who realized the full effect of the awful accident.