“Deerfoot asked him, and he was kind enough to do so.”
“That’s because you overcame him.”
The young Shawanoe had given a short account of his extraordinary meeting with Hay-uta, when the older warrior tried to take his life, but Jack knew nothing more than the main incident. He had not been told of the aboriginal sermon which Deerfoot delivered on that “auspicious occasion”.
It was only natural that the Sauk should feel a strong admiration for the remarkable youth, but the Word which Deerfoot expounded to him had far more to do with his seeking the companionship of the Shawanoe.
The latter made no answer to the remark of Jack, but turning toward Hay-uta continued the conversation which had been broken several times. Young Carleton, believing there was nothing for him to do, spread his blanket near the fire, and, lying down, so as to infold himself from head to feet, was not long in sinking into slumber.
Ordinarily his rest would not have been broken, for his confidence in Deerfoot was so strong, that he felt fully as safe as if lying at home in his own bed, but, from some slight cause, he gradually regained his senses, until he recalled where he was. He was lying with his back to the blaze, but the reflection on the leaves in front, showed the fire was burning briskly. He heard too, the low murmur of a voice, which he knew belonged to Deerfoot.
“What mischief can be going on?” he asked himself, silently turning his head, so that he could look across to his friend.
The scene was one which could never be forgotten. Deerfoot was lying or rather reclining on one side, the upper part of his body resting on his elbow, so that his shoulders and head were several inches above the ground. In the hand of the arm which thus supported him, was held his little Bible, the light from the camp-fire falling on the page, from which he was reading in his low, musical voice that is he was translating the English into the Sauk tongue, seeking to put the words in such shape that the listener could understand them. It would be hard to imagine a more difficult task.
Between Deerfoot and Jack was stretched the Sauk, his posture such that his features were in sight. He lay on his face, his arms half folded under his chest, so that his shoulders were also held clear of the ground. His dark eyes were fixed upon the countenance of the Shawanoe youth, with a rapt expression that made him unconscious of every thing else. Into that heart was penetrating the partial light of a mystery which mortal man has never fully solved; he was learning the great lesson beside which all others sink into insignificance.
Jack Carleton moved as softly as he could, so as to view the picture without bodily discomfort. Deerfoot glanced at him, without checking himself, but Hay-uta heard him not. Watchful and vigilant as he was, an enemy might have stolen forward and driven his tomahawk through his brain, without any thought on his part of his peril.
“I wish I could understand what Deerfoot is saying,” was the thought of Jack, whose eyes filled at the touching sight.
“A full-blooded Indian is urging the Christian religion on another Indian. Even I, who have a praying mother, have been reproved by him, and with good cause too.”
By and by the senses of the young Kentuckian left him, and again he slept. This time he did not open his eyes until broad daylight.
CHAPTER III.
THE CAMP OF THE STRANGERS.
The expedition on which Jack Carleton entered with his two companions promised to be similar in many respects to those which have been already described. It looked indeed as if it would be more dull, and, for a while, such was the fact, but it was not long before matters took a turn as extraordinary as unexpected, and which quickly led the Kentuckian to conclude that it was, after all, the most eventful enterprise of his life.
For nearly three days the westward journey was without incident which need be given in detail. They swam several streams of water, climbed and descended elevations and shot such game as they required. The weapon of Hay-uta proved to be fully as excellent as it looked. Though its flintlock and single muzzle-loading barrel would have made a sorry show in the presence of our improved modern weapons, yet it was capable of splendid execution. Jack Carleton was a fine marksman, but in a friendly contest in which the three engaged, the Sauk beat him almost every time. That this was due to the superiority of his gun was proven by the fact that when they exchanged rifles, the young Kentuckian never failed to beat the other, and the beauty of the whole proceeding was that when Deerfoot took the handsome weapon, he vanquished both; in fact he did it with the gun belonging to Jack Carleton.
Though the young Shawanoe clung to his bow, it was clear to his companions that he admired the new piece. He turned it over and examined every part, as though it possessed a special attraction.
“Deerfoot,” said Jack, pinching his arm, “you could beat William Tell himself, if he were living, with the bow, but what’s the use of talking? It can’t compare with the rifle and you know it. Just because a gun of yours once flashed in the pan, you threw it away and took up the bow again, but it was a mistake, all the same.”
“One of these days Deerfoot may use the rifle,” he answered, as if talking to himself, “but not yet—not yet.”
Little did he suspect how close he was to the crisis which would lead him to a decision on that question.
Toward the close of the three days referred to, the trio were in what is today the southwestern corner of Missouri. Had the time been a hundred years later, they would have had to go but a short distance to cross the border line into Kansas.
A remarkable feature of their journey to that point, was the fact that, while making the distance, they had not seen a single person besides themselves. Not once, when they climbed a tree or elevation and carefully scanned the country, did they catch sight of the smoke of a solitary camp-fire creeping upward toward the blue sky. They heard the crack of no gun beside their own, and the keen eyes which glanced to the right and left, as they trod the endless wilderness, failed to detect the figure of the stealthily moving warrior.
This was singular, for there were plenty of Indians at that day west of the Mississippi, and it would be hard to find a section through which such a long journey could be made without coming upon red men. But at the end of the three days, our friends could not complain that there was any lack of dusky strangers.
It was near the middle of the afternoon, when finding themselves in a dense portion of the wood, on a considerable elevation, they decided to “take another observation”. To Jack Carleton it looked as if they were engaged on a hopeless errand, and, but for his unbounded faith in Deerfoot, he would have turned back long before in despair; it would be more proper indeed to say, that he never would have entered alone on such an enterprise.
There was no need for the three to climb a tree, so two stood on the ground while Deerfoot made his way among the limbs with the nimbleness of a monkey.
He went to the very top, and balancing himself on the swaying limb carefully parted the branches before his face. His penetrating glance was rewarded by a sight which caused an amazed “hooh!” to fall from his lips.
A little ways to the westward flowed a rapid stream, a hundred yards wide. The other shore, for a rod or two, was bare of trees and vegetation, except some stunted grass, and in this open space was encamped a party of Indians. The sentinel in the tree counted eleven, and suspected there were others who just then were not in sight. Though it lacked several hours of darkness and the air was pleasant, they had started a fire, big enough to warm a large space. Some of them seemed to have been fishing in the stream, for they had broiled a number of fish on the coals, and the nostrils of the young Shawanoe detected their appetizing odor.
Under ordinary circumstances there would have been nothing specially interesting in the group, but Deerfoot had studied them but a minute or two when he became convinced that they belonged to the same tribe which held Otto Relstaub a prisoner. Their dress, looks, and general appearance answered the description given by Hay-uta.
The heart of the youth beat faster over
the thought that probably the four warriors whom he was seeking to follow were among them, and the fate of the German lad was about to be solved. He glanced down the trunk of the tree, and saw Jack Carleton and the Sauk standing on the ground and looking up at him, as though they suspected from his manner that some important discovery had been made. Without speaking, Deerfoot beckoned to the warrior to join him. The next instant the fellow was climbing among the limbs with such vigor that Deerfoot felt the jar at the very top.
Their combined weight was too great for such an elevation, and the younger perched himself somewhat lower, so as to give Hay-uta the advantage. A few words made known what Deerfoot had seen and that he wished the elder to answer the questions which the Shawanoe had asked himself.
Hay-uta was as guarded in his actions as Deerfoot could have been. He spent several minutes in a study of the group on the other side of the stream. Had he and the Shawanoe suspected they were so close to a camp of red men, neither would have climbed the tree, for little, if any thing, was to be gained by doing so; the strangers could have been scrutinized from the ground as well as from the elevation. It was a noteworthy fact that two such skillful woodmen as Hay-uta and Deerfoot should approach so close to another party without discovering it.
While Hay-uta was inspecting the warriors, Deerfoot quietly awaited him on a limb some ten feet below, and Jack Carleton, peering aloft from the ground until his neck ached, wondered what it all meant.
The Sauk softly withdrew the hand extended in front of his face, and the leaves came together with scarcely a rustle. With several long reaches of his arms and legs, he placed himself beside his friend below and told what he had learned. The two of course talked in the Indian tongue and I give a liberal translation:
“What does my brother know?” asked Deerfoot.
“They belong to the tribe who took the pale-face; Hay-uta knows not their name, but their looks show it.”
“Then their village can not be far away.”
“We must learn that of a surety for ourselves; two warriors among them are the same that gave us the wampum and blankets for the pale-face boy.”
“Does my brother make no error?” asked Deerfoot, surprised to be told they were so close upon the heels of a couple of the very red men whom they scarcely hoped to find.
But the suspicion that such was the fact caused the Sauk to keep up his scrutiny until no doubt was left. He assured Deerfoot of the truth, adding that the taller was the one who handed over the wampum, and who showed such a willingness to draw the Sauks into a fight without waiting for provocation.
This was news of moment and raised several questions which the friends discussed while perched in the tree. If two of the original warriors were present, where were the others? Was it not likely they were out of sight only for the time being? It seemed probable that the four while journeying toward their own hunting grounds, had joined a company of friends, with whom they were making the rest of the trip.
Then followed the question, What of Otto Relstaub? Varied as might be the answers to the question, all the probabilities pointed to his death, and that, too, in the most painful manner; but it was idle to grope in the field of conjecture. It was for the friends to decide on the means of learning the truth.
In the hope of getting more knowledge, Deerfoot again climbed to the highest point, and studied the group on the other side of the stream; but was disappointed, and he and Hay-uta made their way to the ground, where Jack Carleton was told all.
The eyes of the young Kentuckian expanded, and, when the story was finished, he exclaimed in a guarded voice:
“They’ve got Otto—of course they have.”
The expression of the Shawanoe’s face showed he was not sure of the meaning of his friend, who added:
“The whole four that had charge of him are with those fellows, and, if Otto isn’t there also we may as well give up and go back, for he is no longer alive.”
Deerfoot made no answer, but Jack was sure he shared the fear with him.
A discussion of the situation and the difficulties before them, led the two warriors to decide on a curious line of action.
It was agreed that one should cross boldly over and mingle with the strangers, while the other should reconnoiter the camp and learn what he could, without allowing himself to be seen.
It would be supposed that, inasmuch as Hay-uta was acquainted with two of the Indians, and had parted from them on friendly terms, he would be selected to enter camp, while Deerfoot’s matchless woodcraft would lead to his selection to work outside; but these situations were reversed.
Since the strangers had journeyed far to the eastward into the hunting grounds of the Sauks and Osages (probably to the very shore of the great Mississippi), it followed that no surprise should be felt by them to find that some equally inquiring red man had traveled toward the Rocky Mountains, with a view of seeing the strange land and its people. It was the intention of the young Shawanoe to assume such a part. Should any mishap befall Hay-uta, he would give out that he was engaged on a similar mission, and not knowing he was near friends, he was reconnoitring the party from a safer distance.
There were several reasons for this reversal of duties, as they may be called, but it is necessary to give only one or two. The appearance of Hay-uta among them most likely would raise suspicion that it bore some relation to the captive Otto. The red men, therefore, would be put upon their guard and the difficulty of securing him—if alive—greatly increased.
But the strongest reason was that Deerfoot would be sure to do better when brought in contact with the Indians. He was greatly the superior of the Sauk in mental gifts, and, with his remarkable power of reading sign language, would be sure to extract knowledge that was beyond the reach of Hay-uta.
Having decided on the course they were to follow, no time was lost in talking over the plan agreed upon. Jack Carleton was informed of the particulars by Deerfoot.
“I suppose it’s the best thing to be done, though my opinion don’t amount to much in this crowd. What am I to do?”
“My brother may sleep,” said the Shawanoe, with that slight approach to humor which he sometimes showed.
“Yes; I would do a great deal of sleeping; but go ahead and I’ll be on the lookout for you. I don’t suppose you can tell when you are likely to get back?”
Deerfoot shook his head, but intimated that he hoped to learn all that he sought to know before the coming night should end.
A few minutes previous to this, Hay-uta had walked down the stream, keeping so far back that he could not be seen by any one on the other side. The Shawanoe took the opposite direction, the purpose of each being to act independently, and, in case circumstances brought them together in the presence of the aliens, the agreement was that Sauk and Shawanoe should comport themselves as though they had never met before.
When the time should come for the scouts, as they may be called, to return to the shore from which they started, they would have no trouble in finding Jack Carleton, with whom it was easy to communicate by means of signals. The most trying task was that of the young Kentuckian himself, who was left without any employment for mind or body.
Deerfoot walked several hundred yards up stream until he had passed a bend, where he swam across. He kept his bow so far above surface that the string was not wetted.
When he had surveyed himself, as best he could, he walked in the direction of the camp of the hostiles, as he more than suspected they should be classed. Had any one noticed him just then, he would have observed that the Shawanoe walked with a limp, as though suffering from some injury.
The readers of “Ned in the Block House,” will recall that Deerfoot once saved his life by feigning lameness, and the youth saw nothing to lose and possibly much to gain by such strategy in the enterprise on which he was engaged.
CHAPTER IV.
THE QUARREL.
Deerfoot was by no means free from misgivings when he limped from the woods, and, crossing the narrow space
that lined the stream, advanced to the camp-fire around which the warriors were lounging.
Their appearance showed they were doughty fighters, and what Hay-uta had told proved the same thing. But the Shawanoe had no fear that they would rush upon and overwhelm him, and he had been in too many perilous situations to hesitate before any duty.
The Indians turned their heads and surveyed him as he walked unevenly forward, holding his bow in one hand, and making signs of comity with the other. They showed no surprise, for such was not their custom; but stoical and guarded as they were, Deerfoot could see they felt considerable curiosity, and the fact that he carried a bow instead of a gun must have struck them as singular, for he came from the East, where the white men had their settlements, and such weapons were easily obtained. These strange Indians had firearms, though beyond them in the far West were thousands who had never seen a pale-face.
Deerfoot’s friendly salutations were answered in the same spirit, and he shook hands with each of the eleven warriors, who seemed accustomed to the civilized fashion. He seated himself a short distance from the fire, so as to form one of the dozen which encircled it. No food was offered the visitor, but when one of the strangers handed him his long-stemmed pipe, Deerfoot accepted and indulged in several whiffs from the red clay bowl.
The two warriors whom Hay-uta had pointed out as members of the party that had bought Otto Relstaub from the Sauks, were objects of much interest to the youth. They could not have observed it, but he scanned them closely, and when he sat down, managed to place himself between them—one being on the right, and the other on the left.
Thus far, hosts and guest had spoken only by signs, but a surprise came to Deerfoot when the warrior on his right addressed him in language which he understood.
“My brother has journeyed far to visit the hunting grounds of his brothers, the Pawnees.”
The words of the warrior made known the fact that the party belonged to the Pawnee tribe, but the amazing feature of his remark was that it was made in Deerfoot’s own tongue—the Shawanoe. The youth turned like a flash the instant the first word fell upon his ear. He knew well enough that no one around him belonged to that tribe, but well might he wonder where this savage had gained his knowledge of the language of the warlike people on the other side of the Mississippi.
The Edward S. Ellis Megapack Page 204
