The Hunters of the Ozark

by Edward Sylvester Ellis

  CHAPTER XIX.

  SHAWANOE AND WINNEBAGO.

  While Fred Linden and Terry Clark lay in that part of the cavern wherethe floor was of rock, the blanket of Deerfoot was spread on the earth.Consequently when the Winnebago brought down his knife with such viciousspitefulness, it went through the folds of the blanket and was buried tothe hilt in the ground underneath.

  You know that, despite the marvelous quiet with which the Winnebagoapproached the cavern, he was heard by Deerfoot, who, pausing only longenough to make sure that an enemy was approaching, whisked outside.There he stood in the impenetrable shadow under the trees, and saw theWinnebago at the moment he emerged into the faint moonlight and stoodupright.

  The first look confirmed his suspicion that it was the Winnebago, whohad come back to avenge himself for the affair of the preceding day.Deerfoot smiled to himself, for there was a tinge of absurdity about thewhole business that was sure to become still more so.

  The Shawanoe paused a few seconds before darting out of the cavern,until he could arrange his blanket, so that it would appear as if itinfolded his sleeping form, and then he quietly awaited events.

  It must be admitted that it looked like leaving Fred and Terry in greatperil to permit such a savage enemy to creep so close to them while theywere sound asleep; but Deerfoot knew that the first thing that the Wolfwould do would be to attempt his life, precisely as he did attempt it.Before he could do any thing more, the Shawanoe concluded to impress hispresence upon the visitor.

  At the moment, therefore, that the Winnebago stopped his advance andslowly raised his knife, as he supposed over the breast of Deerfoot,that gentleman, kneeling on one knee, brought his rifle to bear upon theWinnebago, the dull light from the fire shining along the barrel, whosemuzzle was within a yard of the unsuspicious Wolf.

  The blanket through which the keen-pointed knife had been driven was nomore firmly transfixed for the moment than was the Wolf when a slighthissing noise caused him to turn his head, and he saw the dreadedShawanoe in a kneeling position with his gun leveled at him, the fingeron the trigger, and the bright eye glancing along the barrel.

  The Winnebago was literally unable to move or speak, and Deerfoot,motionless himself, held him thus for several seconds. Then with the gunstill pointed, he said in a low voice:

  "Dog of a Winnebago! Deerfoot has spared the life of the Wolf, and henow seeks to strike him in the dark."

  This address loosened the tongue of the terrified warrior, who, seeinghis captor raise his head from sighting along the barrel, though hekept the weapon leveled, obeyed the beckoning motion of Deerfoot, andcrept noiselessly out of the cavern. On the alert for any chance, he wasready to seize it, but the first object on which his eye rested in thedim moonlight was the figure of the young Shawanoe holding his gun insuch a position, that, should it be necessary, he could fire like aflash.

  Deerfoot would not have hesitated to lay his gun aside, and, drawing hisknife, give the Winnebago the same chance with himself; but the Wolf hadleft his weapon where he forced it through the blanket into the ground,so that he had none except his tomahawk, and he was not likely toattempt any thing with that.

  Besides, while Deerfoot had not the least fear of his enemy, he did notwish to fight with him. He did not engage in his many desperateencounters through love of victory, but because it had seemed to himthat it was his duty, and there was no other way out of the trouble.

  It must be said, too, that at this hour the Shawanoe happened to be in amood which rendered such encounters more than usually distasteful tohim. After he had closed his Bible and lay on his face, looking into theembers and meditating, the same thought that had stirred him many a timebefore filled his mind again.

  Why do men strive to kill each other?

  It was a question which has puzzled many a wise man in the past and hasnot yet been answered. Thousands of affectionate husbands unlock thewhite arms of the loving little children from their necks, kiss theheartbroken wife good-by, and then rush out to try to murder one whomthey have never seen, who has also just torn himself loose from hisfamily. There is something in the thought that mystifies beyond allexplanation.

  The problem which directly interested Deerfoot was whether the day wouldnot come when the red men of every tribe could meet the pale faces infriendship instead of hatred. Why should they always be at war? Could hedo a little to bring about that day of universal peace? Was there notsome work which the Great Spirit had laid out for him by which he couldhelp to soften the feeling of the two peoples toward each other?

  But Deerfoot had asked himself the same question many a time before, andthe only answer was that the most he could do was to follow the lightwithin him: that is, aid to remove a part of the antagonism between thetwo races.

  Alas, too, that while he was considering the question, his ear caughtthe soft rustle that told him one of his own race was seeking his life.Deerfoot was sorrowed more than angered. He wished that the Winnebagohad taken some other time to make his stealthy attack.

  Joined to this emotion was that of another akin to sympathy for theWinnebago in his complete discomfiture. He had come back to regain hisrifle, but not only had failed, but had lost his knife, and now wasstanding at the mercy of a Shawanoe young enough to be his son. Thelatter resolved that, though the Wolf had earned death, he would notharm him, unless forced to do so in self-defense.

  For half a minute the warriors, with ten feet separating them, lookedstraight at each other in silence. Fred Linden and Terry Clark sleptsoundly, for as yet there had been no noise sufficient to awake a lightsleeper.

  "Why does the Wolf seek the life of Deerfoot?" asked the latter, willingto relieve the embarrassment of the other.

  "The Wolf sought the gun that had been stolen from him."

  "But it was not hidden in the blanket, that he should drive his knifethrough it."

  "The Wolf believed it was," was the curt response.

  "Does the Wolf strike with his knife at his own gun?" asked theShawanoe, without betraying any emotion.

  "He would rather do so than that it should stay in the hands of anenemy."

  "It never would have been in the hands of an enemy had the Wolf acted asa brave warrior; but he sought the life of the young pale face who hadnever done him harm."

  "Has not his people stolen the hunting grounds of the red man?" demandedthe Winnebago, who, seeing that some grace was to be allowed him, burstinto the argument that multitudes of his people have used before andsince. Before he could proceed further, Deerfoot asked: "Are these thehunting grounds of the Winnebagos?"

  "They are the hunting grounds of his race, though they may not be of histotem; Deerfoot should join with his brother the Wolf in driving thewhite men into the sea."

  "There was a day when that might have been done," replied Deerfoot, whofelt that faint throb and thrill which sometimes came to him, as if totell him that his Indian nature was not yet entirely dead within him;"once the pale faces were but a handful, and the red men hunted over allthe ground that lies between the great waters. They could have swept thepale faces into the sea, but they would not be brothers with themselves;they fought each other. So the pale faces grew, and the day will nevercome when they need fear the red men."

  "The brave warrior does not ask what can be done, but does with all hismight that which he knows the Great Spirit wishes him to do."

  "The Great Spirit does not tell him to kill his pale face brother; forthey are all His children and He loves them. The Great Spirit has spokento Deerfoot and told him that all His children should love one another."

  "Does Deerfoot do so?"

  "He does; he never strikes but when the Great Spirit tells him to do so;if he was the Wolf and the Wolf was Deerfoot, he would have slain theShawanoe long ago."

  The Winnebago would have denied this had he not seen that it was idle todo so. What would he not have given at that moment could he haveexchanged places with the handsome and triumphant young warrior?

  "The _true_ Great
Spirit loves all His children, whether they be pale orred or of the color of night; He smiles when they meet each other asfriends, and He will reward in the spirit land those who do His will onthe earth. Let the Wolf bury the words of Deerfoot in his heart, forthey are the words of truth, and if they are heeded he will behappy--Go!"

  The amazed Winnebago doubted for a moment that he had heard the commandaright; but the wave of the hand which accompanied it, and the fact thatit was in perfect consonance with the words he had just heard, satisfiedhim there was no mistake about it.

  "The Wolf thanks his brother for what he has done."

  The heart of the Winnebago forced the words between his lips as heturned his face away and walked down the bank of the stream in thedirection whence he came. He vanished the next instant in the darkness.

  Deerfoot did not stir until every sound of the soft footsteps had diedout. Then he lowered the hammer of his gun, bent his shoulders slightlyforward, so as to walk freely, and entered the cavern where his friendswere still sleeping.