It must be admitted that the situation was a peculiar one in more than one respect. First of all, there was no reason to believe the Pawnees were aware that the two strange Indians who created such a turmoil had recrossed the river, nor was it known that the hostiles themselves were in the neighborhood. Besides, the warrior who made Jack prisoner the evening previous was playing a singular part in the proceedings. There was no telling where he was at that moment, nor when he would turn up again. Added to this, was the absolute ignorance about Otto Relstaub. If they could have gained some inkling of the disposition made of him (for there could be no doubt that the warriors identified by the Sauk knew all about it), the hunt could be forced to a conclusion, one way or the other, within a few hours.
Directing Hay-uta and Jack Carleton to remain for the present where they were, the Shawanoe said he would swim over and examine the vicinity, before allowing his friends to join him in the final search for the lad. This was such a radical change of purpose that Jack was impatient. He did not hesitate to ask for an explanation; but he quickly learned that impatience, anger or dictation availed nothing with the young Shawanoe. He was afraid of no one, and if he chose to keep his thoughts to himself, it mattered naught whether it gave pleasure or offense to others.
Before attempting the passage, Deerfoot ranged up and down the stream for a considerable distance, scrutinizing the belt of open land on the other shore, and the woods beyond. Not a vestige of the Pawnees was to be seen. Then he climbed a tree, and from the top looked off over the country for a space of many miles. He hoped to detect the faint stains left in the atmosphere by the camp-fire of the hostiles, but he was disappointed in that also. Had he not learned the contrary the previous night, he could have believed that he was the first human being whose feet had ever pressed that solitude.
The Shawanoe was too subtle a woodman to forget any point of the compass. It was not impossible that the Pawnees, angered by the indignities and the disappointments they had suffered at the hands of the young warrior and his companions, had tried to flank them. They were not all cowards, and though some of them looked upon the phenomenal youth as an evil spirit, there were others who must have known him as he was, and who were eager for the chance to bring him low by means of their rifles.
CHAPTER XIX.
JACK AND HAY-UTA.
Deerfoot’s survey of the opposite shore was ended; but whether it was satisfactory to himself or not, could be learned only by questioning him. Jack Carleton took good care not to do that. He had never seen the young Shawanoe so reserved, and having once been denied the knowledge he sought, he left his friend to work in his own way.
It looked to Jack as if the Shawanoe was seeking to wrap more mystery than usual around himself, for when he came back to his friends, he took off his quiver of arrows and placed it and his bow in their charge, thus showing his purpose to leave them behind in the business in which he was about to engage. It certainly was inconvenient to swim the river with them, and, in spite of the care and skill of the owner, it was impossible to reach land with bow and arrows in the best condition. Furthermore, they rendered him too conspicuous. No doubt some of the Pawnees were near at hand, even though no signs were discovered, and if the Shawanoe carried his weapons, his venture was likely to be defeated at the beginning.
“Let my brother open his eyes,” said he, after a few words with the Sauk, which, of course, were not intelligible to Jack Carleton, “the Pawnees are not far.”
“I will do my best to guard against surprise,” replied the young Kentuckian, “and with Hay-uta as my friend, I am sure we shall take care of ourselves.”
“Deerfoot cannot say when he will come back,” added the warrior, looking toward the river, as though expecting to catch sight of some clew among the leaves and branches, “but he hopes to be with his friend before the sun is overhead.”
This was the only farewell uttered by the Shawanoe, who walked to the undergrowth which lined the shore and overhung the water. He entered the latter like a diving-bell, whose enormous weight causes it to sink silently and swiftly to the bottom.
“Hay-uta, let’s watch him,” said Jack, moving carefully to the margin of the river, from which they could peer out without detection. The Sauk could comprehend the action of the boy, though not his words, and I am warranted in saying that his curiosity was equal to that of his companion, when he gazed through the leafy interstices upon the river.
The Shawanoe now gave an example of his amazing skill in the water, such as Jack Carleton had never seen before. He remembered the dexterity which he displayed in towing the canoe across the Mississippi, with Jack and Otto in it, and with the Indians along shore blazing away with their rifles; he had seen the youth disport himself in a way that no one else could equal, but on none of these occasions were his achievements so extraordinary as when he let himself into the river, passed under the surface, and vanished from sight.
Jack Carleton had heard of his exploit in sinking to the bottom of the Ohio in a large iron kettle let over the side of the flatboat, and of his swimming to shore behind the canoe in which sat Tecumseh, but it now looked to him as if he were passing the entire distance—more than a hundred yards—beneath the surface.
“That can not be,” said the lad to himself, when he reflected on the time it must take to proceed that far; “no human being can hold his breath long enough to go more than half the distance, and I don’t believe he can go even that far.”
There was scarcely a zephyr stirring, so that the rapidly flowing river was without wavelet or disturbance. As none of us is amphibious, the most skillful swimmer must seek the air at brief intervals, and, knowing where the Shawanoe had entered, Jack fixed on the point in the river where he would be likely to rise. He knew that, of course, when he did so it would be only his nose which would appear. Anyone on the shore would not suspect the meaning of such appearance unless previous knowledge had awakened expectation, but the closest scrutiny of Jack failed to see the slightest ripple, such, as would have been made by the dropping of a pebble into the river. The lad was right, beyond all question, when he concluded that, wherever Deerfoot came up for air, it was a long ways from the spot on which he had fixed his attention.
Glancing at Hay-uta bending forward at his side, he observed that his scrutiny of the stream was as close as his own. He had, in fact, made the same guess as the pale-face youth, but with a more profound belief in the prodigious capacity of the Shawanoe, he fixed upon a point further down stream and closer to the other bank for his reappearance; but the seconds lengthened into minutes and nothing was seen. The wing of the flitting insect, had it glanced against the surface, would have caused a crinkle or two which the watchful eyes of the Sauk would have detected, but as it was, his vision, roaming back and forth, and here and there over the calm surface, saw no sign that any thing of the kind had taken place.
At the moment of greatest wonderment, both watchers were startled by the leap of a small fish, which sprang a foot or two into the air, flashing like silver in the sunlight, and then fell back. The first belief of the spectators was that this was their friend, but the truth was immediately apparent.
Jack Carleton was on the point of giving up, when the Sauk touched his arm and uttered an exclamation. He was pointing to the other shore, his extended finger indicating a tree which grew out almost horizontally over the river, for a distance of eight or ten feet and then curved upward like the runner of a sleigh.
As he looked he saw Deerfoot in the act of drawing himself out of the water. With one hand he raised himself upon the twisted trunk, along which he crept into the wood beyond, never making the least salutation to his friends, who he might have known were watching for him.
“By gracious!” exclaimed Jack. “He swam the whole distance under water! he can beat a fish!”
It is not to be supposed that Deerfoot accomplished this feat, for it was beyond the range of human attainment; but he did swim the distance with only a single rise if such it may be
termed when the tip of his nose gently came up long enough to empty his lungs of their hot air, and take in another draught of the life-giving element. That he should do this under the eyes, as may be said, of two watchers, without their detection, was not the least remarkable part of his performance.
Jack would have given much had he and Hay-uta possessed the power of talking to each other. The Indian was one of the best warriors of his tribe, and had formed a peculiar affection for the young Shawanoe. More than likely he held some well-founded suspicions of the real reason which led Deerfoot to make his curious trip across the river, and between the two the truth might be brought out.
Deerfoot having disappeared, it was idle to watch the river any longer, and the two withdrew a step or two and sat on the ground, there to await the Shawanoe.
“I don’t suppose I shall have time to teach him the English language,” thought Jack, surveying his companion, who lolled on the ground as though he meant to put in an hour or two of sleep; “and I’m sure he won’t be able to make much headway with me. I spent some weeks visiting the Sauks (that is on their invitation), and never was able to get hold of more than a dozen or so of their outlandish words, but there isn’t one of them that can be turned to account just now. So I’ll wait till Deerfoot tells the story for himself.”
Probably twenty minutes had gone by, when the stillness was broken by the report of a gun. It was from the other shore, and sounded so faint that it must have been fully half a mile inland. Hay-uta started up, and looking sharply at Jack, raised his hand for him to keep silent. No need of that, for the youth was listening as well as he. In the course of a few minutes Hay-uta rose and went to the river shore, where he stayed some time, peering out over the surface, but he came back without having seen any thing unusual, nor did the two hear another sound of a gun.
“It would be strange,” thought Jack Carleton, “if that rifle killed Deerfoot; the tiniest bullet, if rightly aimed, will do it, and great as is his skill it can not protect him against treachery. As mother says, his time will come sooner or later, but none of us can tell when, anymore than we can name the hour appointed for us to die.”
Except for the slight disturbance named, the Sauk would have fallen into slumber, but all such disposition was now gone. Seating himself on the ground, he began examining the bow and arrows which had been left in their charge. Finding it somewhat awkward to do so while in the sitting position, he rose to his feet, and Jack placed himself at his side as if to give help, should it be needed.
Perhaps it should be said that Jack Carleton knew one or two interesting facts regarding Deerfoot not yet known to the reader. In the first place, the Shawanoe was the owner of at least two bows, nearly as long as himself and possessing tremendous power. That which the Sauk held in charge was of mountain ash, made in the usual fashion, the cord being composed of deer sinew, woven as fine and almost as strong as steel wire. The center-piece was round and had been polished hard and smooth by the friction of the Shawanoe’s right hand, which had grasped it so many times. The entire bow had been stained a dark cherry color, its proportions being so symmetrical that it would have been admired by any one.
When picked from the ground the bow was unstrung. Hay-uta carefully bent it over and slipped the noose in place on the notched end. Then, after examining one of the feather-tipped arrows, he fitted it in place and looked around for some target at which to discharge it.
Jack motioned to him to wait a moment while he furnished the mark desired. Running toward the most open part of the wood, he broke a branch and hung his cap on the stump, the distance being perhaps twenty yards. Jack would have made it greater, but for the interference of the vegetation.
The Sauk looked at the target a minute or two, then at the bow, and fitting the end of the arrow against the string, he slowly raised the weapon and took aim. Jack stepped back eight or ten feet, so as to be out of danger, and watched the result.
“I don’t believe he can hit it, but like enough he will skewer my cap, which I ain’t anxious to have done.”
The Sauk held the bow slanting in front of him, just as he had seen the owner do, and he took long and careful aim. He formed a striking figure, his pose being graceful and correct. Unlike the Shawanoe, he was right-handed, as was Jack. His left foot was a little in advance of the right, the toe of the moccasin pointed in the same direction as the arrow, while the right foot was turned slightly outward. The left hand grasped the bow in the middle, while (as most beginners do) he clasped the end of the arrow against the string, between the thumb and forefinger. His body was erect and well-balanced, the head thrust a little forward, the left eye closed, and the right ranging along the line of the arrow as though it were the barrel of his rifle.
Slowly he drew back the string until his right hand was beside his cheek. He had seen Deerfoot many a time hold his right arm rigid, while the other pulled the string back of his head, but Hay-uta was surprised to find the tension so great that he could not draw it another inch. Holding it thus a second or two, he let fly.
CHAPTER XX.
UNCONGENIAL NEIGHBORS.
Jack Carleton fixed his eyes on his cap, wondering how near the Sank could come to it. Feeling some misgiving, he took several more steps backward, until he was fully five yards from the pendant headgear.
Twang went the bow-string, and the next instant something flashed so close to the eyes of the youth that he winked and flirted his head backward. The arrow had missed his nose by less than an inch!
“Well, that’s the greatest shooting I ever saw!” exclaimed Jack, when he turned and saw where the missile, after clipping some leaves near at hand, had fallen to the ground. “Hold on!” he called, with a gesture which the Sauk understood, “if you are going to try it again, aim at me; then I’ll be safe.”
Hay-uta was as much astonished as he—so much so, indeed, that he stood staring, neither smiling nor making any move to launch another shaft. Jack ran and picked up the arrow that had been discharged, for the quiver was not full and Deerfoot had none to throw away.
When the youth rejoined the warrior, the latter handed him the bow, as though glad to be relieved of it, but seeing he had done no harm, he made a successful attempt to grin.
“Hay-uta, you are not to be blamed because you ain’t half as handsome nor smart as other folks; it is no fault of yours if nature made you a fool; you are entitled to pity; but if you want to learn something about handling a bow just study my style.”
The reason Jack Carleton talked in this fashion was because he knew the one whom he addressed could not understand a word of what was said. Nevertheless, Hay-uta looked upon his actions with interest; for, feeling assured that the shot could not be as bad as his, the chances were that it would be much better.
Conscious of what was expected of him, the young Kentuckian (who could not repress a smile over the performance of the Sauk), did his utmost to make a shot which would command the admiration of the only spectator with whom he was favored.
“I’m in a peculiar situation,” reflected the youth, as he fitted the same arrow to the string, “for I am to try to hit a target which I don’t want to hit. I don’t suppose there’s much danger, but I would like to beat Hay-uta.”
The latter walked to the stump of the limb on which hung the cap, but he showed his wisdom by dodging behind the trunk of a tree large enough to shield his body. Jack laughed when he observed him peeping timidly from behind this cover.
“I’ll point a little to one side of my cap,” reflected the youth, “and if I elevate my aim a little, as Deerfoot does, I ought to come pretty near it.”
His manner of discharging the bow was similar to that of the Sauk. He slowly drew back his right hand, whose thumb and forefinger inclosed the arrow and string, until his strength was at the highest tension, when he let go.
The aim could not have been improved, for it was a “bull’s eye”. The flint-pointed shaft tore its way through the top of the cap, which was carried off its support and
dropped to the ground with the feathered part of the missile sticking in the air.
Hay-uta ran from behind the tree, picked up the target with the head of the arrow tangled in it, and held up the two in view of the young Kentuckian, who viewed them with dismay.
“Great Cæsar!” he exclaimed, “I believe I’ve ruined my cap!”
But as that which had been done could not be undone, he put on the best face possible. He waved his hand and nodded his head, as though he was not unduly proud over his own success.
“That’s the way I always manage those things,” he said, loftily, “put it up again.”
The Sauk saw what he meant and replaced the cap, from which he first drew the destructive arrow, with a good deal of recklessness as it seemed to the owner, who plainly caught the gleam of daylight through the top, when it slightly oscillated for a moment on its perch.
“I don’t suppose another shot will hurt it much, so I’ll send this one right in the track of the first; then Hay-uta will know that my skill is next to Deerfoot’s, and it won’t be necessary to do any more shooting with this plagued bow.”
The second missile was launched with more care than the first, Jack doing his very best to make a center shot; but the result was astounding: the arrow impinged against the tree behind which the Sauk had shrunk, chipped away a piece of the bark, and skipped off at a sharp angle, just as did the glancing missile which slew the ancient king of England, when hunting in the forest.
It looked to the amateur as if Hay-uta, when he thrust his face from behind the trunk was grinning to an extent that endangered his ears. Nothing could have been more eloquent than his gesture, when he pointed to the untouched cap, then at the tree from which the bark had been chipped, and then with a still more overwhelming smile indicated the spot where the erratic arrow lay at rest.
The Edward S. Ellis Megapack Page 214
