By and by the red men from the other side came over in the canoe, and, as may be supposed, they had a stirring story to tell. Deerfoot watched them from his concealment, but heard nothing from which he could gain any information.
Among the dozen selected to make the return in the canoe was Lone Bear. Suspecting their intention, Deerfoot kept his eye on them until the craft left the shore.
It was then he “grasped the situation”. The Sauk and his young companion had taken care of themselves in spite of the large party of enemies; they had stirred the wrath of the Pawnees to that point that they had secured re-enforcements to go back and crush the daring foes.
All this proved that it would not do for Deerfoot to linger after the departure of the party, especially as the one in which he was particularly interested was in the canoe.
The boat, laden so deeply with painted valor, reached the shore only a few minutes in advance of the Shawanoe, who, with his usual skill, avoided detection by friend or foe. The point where he landed was above that which the canoe touched, for he tried to approach as nearly as he could the spot where he had left his two friends. He quickly learned they were not there, and then moved down the stream parallel to its course, keeping near enough to observe it all the way.
It will be noticed that this took him close to the Pawnees, who were also searching for Hay-uta and Jack Carleton. In one sense, the larger body was between two fires, but in no danger. The shape of affairs was singular. The Pawnees were hunting for the Sauk and his companion, while Deerfoot, their friend, was also looking for them, but doing it in the wake of their enemies. The difficulty of Deerfoot was increased by the fact that whatever signal he sent to his friends, would have to be thrown over the heads of their enemies.
But the Shawanoe addressed himself to the task with his usual coolness and confidence. When he caught sight of the warriors, moving along the bank of the river in no particular order, he fell in, and “joined the procession,” as may be said. It is not to be supposed that the Pawnees had struck at once the trail of those who took so much pains to keep out of their way, but the loose manner in which they were following them indicated that they suspected, rather than knew, the course taken by the fugitives.
When this had continued some minutes, the Shawanoe appeared to feel the necessity of reaching some understanding with his friends, despite the great risk incurred. He therefore emitted the soft, bird-like signal, which he knew would be recognized if it reached them.
Indeed, there could be no mistake in that respect. The trouble lay in the fact that it would also be heard by enemies, who, if they did not know, would be quite sure to suspect its purport.
CHAPTER XXIV.
A SUMMONS AND A SURRENDER.
The ear of the American Indian, like his eye, is trained to wonderful fineness, and the faint, tremulous note, which seemed to float from among the tree tops, stirred the suspicions of the Pawnees. They stopped in their straggling pursuit, and showed such interest that Deerfoot was compelled, for safety’s sake, to steal further to the rear. If they should locate the point whence the call was sent, it would be advisable for him to move still further away.
But the result of the signal, if disappointing in one or two respects (for it brought no response from his friends), was gratifying from another point of view. It was apparent that the call of the Shawanoe produced uneasiness among the Pawnees. It showed that, while they were hunting for their enemies in one direction, one of them, at least, was in another place. It must have deepened the old fear that a large number of foes was in the neighborhood, maneuvering on the outer part of the circle which inclosed the Pawnees. Enormous advantage was thus placed at the command of the strangers, and the situation of the warriors bore a suggestive similarity to that of the hunter who, while hunting the tiger, discovered that the tiger was hunting him.
Deerfoot did not withdraw so far that he lost his surveillance of the Pawnees. He smiled in his faint way, when he noticed their glances toward different points of the compass, and saw them gather for consultation.
They stood thus only a few moments, when a singular movement followed. Three of the Pawnees took each a different direction through the wood, while the main body continued its advance in a more stealthy manner than before. Their line was along the river and close to it, which looked as if they were following the trail of the Sauk and Jack Carleton. Whether or not such was the fact could not be determined by Deerfoot, since the footprints of the Pawnees, covering the same course, hid those of the two in advance.
In fact Deerfoot did not care, for, if the Sauk and Jack Carleton knew no better than to allow a party of hostiles to overhaul them in the wilderness, they deserved the consequences; but cool and collected as was the young Shawanoe, his heart gave a quick throb when he noticed the other movements which I have named.
One of the dusky scouts took a south-westerly course, another went almost due south, while the third faced the south-east, the paths of the three diverging like so many spokes of a wheel. The course of the last named, if persisted in, would take him within a hundred feet of the tree behind which the Shawanoe screened himself.
What rendered this prospect more gratifying was the fact that this Pawnee was Lone Bear, the very warrior whom the Shawanoe was so eager to detach from the main party, so as to gain the chance to “operate” on him; the opportunity he sought was thrust into his hands so unexpectedly that he believed it was in answer to his prayer.
It would seem that Deerfoot ought not to have found any difficulty in manipulating matters to suit himself, but his situation was exceptionally delicate; for, above everything else, it was necessary that he should not be discovered, or have his presence suspected. It would seem, however, that the signal should have given the clew.
Lone Bear had started on a scout, and, recalling his experience on the other side of the river, he was sure to put forth all the cunning of his nature to escape any surprise from his enemies. He was alert, and glanced from side to side, and indeed in all directions, while advancing on a slow, loping trot. It was easy enough to avoid discovery from him, but, in moving round the trunk of the tree (so as to interpose it as a guard), there came a time when the Shawanoe was likely to be seen by the main party, which was not only close, but showed no hurry to move on.
This danger was avoided by Deerfoot with characteristic deftness. He lay flat on his face, in which posture he could not be detected by any one a dozen yards away, and skillfully shifted his position until the back of Lone Bear was toward him. Peering around the trunk, he kept his eyes on the Pawnee until the intervening trees and vegetation shut him from sight. Then Deerfoot rose to his feet, and took his trail like a bloodhound.
The Shawanoe felt the battle was won. There could be no doubt that Lone Bear had started on the same errand as the other two—that of scouting through the neighborhood for the main party of Pawnees. Deerfoot might have wondered that he should do so, after the wild panic into which he had been thrown by him, but like enough he felt the need of some such action in order to repair his damaged reputation. It was not impossible that he volunteered for the perilous duty.
But having taken such a step, it must not be supposed that Lone Bear forgot the perils to which he would be exposed. His vigilance was unremitting, and it need not be said that he looked well to the rear.
In a few minutes the pursuer and his unconscious fugitive were beyond danger of discovery from the main party, and there was little fear of Lone Bear escaping Deerfoot. He had his trail and was sure to run him down.
The Pawnee scout followed an almost direct course for twenty rods, when he stopped, and, standing erect, slowly turned his head and body, using eyes, and ears for all they were worth. He seemed to be satisfied with what he failed to discover, and advanced at a slower gait in the direction of the river, displaying the same vigilance shown from the first.
The distance between Lone Bear and his friends was great enough to suit the purpose of Deerfoot, who now began to maneuver with a vie
w of getting near his man without the latter suspecting it. Great as were the cunning and woodcraft of the Shawanoe, it is difficult to believe such an exploit possible, in view of the watchfulness of the Pawnee. He was scouting against his enemies, and to suppose he would permit one to approach him unobserved is to declare him a stupid Indian—which he was far from being.
But a guarded pursuit and study of his actions, made it clear what his line of conduct was to be, and like the most successful of woodmen, Deerfoot in adopting a certain policy anticipated the action of his adversary.
The latter had not proceeded far in the direction of the river when he again stopped, and, standing motionless, looked and listened, just as he had done many a time when stealing through the country of an enemy, and just as he did years before when fleeing for so many miles through the wilderness to escape the Shawanoes.
For aught that he saw, the Pawnee might have been the only living person within a thousand miles of the lonely spot. Looking aloft at the arching trunks, the branching boughs, and the spread of the leafy roof, he saw no sign of life, except a gray squirrel, which, running lightly along the shaggy bark of a huge limb, whisked out of sight in the wealth of vegetation beyond. Here and there patches of blue sky could be detected, with the white flecks of clouds drifting past, but neither the ground nor the trees nor the air showed aught else. Not even a bird, sailing high overhead, flitted to sight, and the leaves below were rustled by no step of bear or deer or smaller animal.
But such might be the case, with a score of red men prowling near at hand. They would flit hither and thither like so many phantoms, and all the acuteness the Pawnee possessed was needed to elude the traps they were likely to set for his feet. He seemed to believe he was alone, and, resuming his noiseless advance, he did not stop until the listening ear detected the soft flow of the stream, and the daylight between the trees showed the river close at hand.
Again, having satisfied himself, he moved forward until he caught the gleam of water. The same form of scrutiny which has been described was repeated, after which Lone Bear faced down stream and hurried toward the main party fully a half mile distant.
The course of the Pawnee may be described as similar to that of starting from the hub of a wheel, following one of the spokes to the tire, and after traveling some distance along that, returning to the hub by another spoke. Lone Bear had gone to the limit of his tramp, and as the other scouts had taken the same course through different portions of the wood, it will be seen that the neighborhood was sure to be thoroughly examined.
Lone Bear must have concluded that, wherever their enemies had located, they were not within his bailiwick, for, having faced to the westward, he dropped into his loping trot, which, in the case of many Indians, appeared to be more natural than the ordinary walking gait.
It is not impossible that when the dark eyes of the warrior rested on the large trunk of a white oak almost in his path, he reflected what a capital armor it would make against an enemy. At any rate, whether he thought of it or not, he made the discovery in the most astounding manner.
Less than a dozen steps intervened between him and the dark, corrugated bark of the towering wood king, and he was surveying it with a curious expression, when Deerfoot, the Shawanoe, stepped from behind it, and with his tomahawk raised over his head, faced the Pawnee.
“Let Lone Bear stand still and make no outcry, and Deerfoot will not harm him; let him disobey, and the Shawanoe shall split the skull of the Pawnee before he can utter a cry.”
The previous experience of Lone Bear had taught him that it was lost time to argue the question; indeed, no choice remained but to accept the situation, and he did so with a certain meekness which was not without its effect on the Shawanoe.
“Deerfoot is the greatest hunter of the Shawanoes, and the Pawnee bows his head before him.”
As he spoke, Lone Bear surprised the other by the completeness of his submission, doing that which was unexpected to his conqueror. The rifle which he was holding in his right hand, when summoned to surrender, was thrown on the ground; then the tomahawk was flung from the girdle, the knife from the sheath, and all three lay beside each other on the leaves. Not only that, but Lone Bear moved three steps backward and signified to the Shawanoe that he was at liberty to come forward and take them without molestation from him.
“Let my brother, Lone Bear, listen,” said Deerfoot, lowering the left hand which held the tomahawk aloft and resting it against his hip, where it could be used the instant needed; “let the words of Deerfoot be heeded, and it shall be well with Lone Bear; his rifle and tomahawk and knife shall be given to him, and his brothers, the Pawnees, shall never know he was vanquished by Deerfoot.”
This was promising a great deal, and the Pawnee looked questioningly at the other, though it could be seen that he placed much reliance on his pledges.
“The ears of Lone Bear are open; he hears the words of the great Deerfoot; his words reach his heart; what is it my brother, the mighty Shawanoe, would say to him?”
It must have been that Lone Bear had some suspicion of the business of Deerfoot, though it was impossible for him to know his full purpose before Deerfoot made it known.
“My brother will be wise if he heeds the words of Deerfoot; he will please the Great Spirit, for Deerfoot asks him to speak only with a single tongue.”
“Lone Bear will speak with a single tongue.”
“Then,” said Deerfoot, “he will make known the truth of the pale-faced boy for whom the heart of Deerfoot mourns.”
CHAPTER XXV.
LONE BEAR’S REVELATION.
Without hesitating a moment, the Pawnee made answer:
“Lone Bear speaks with a single tongue; he can not tell where the pale-faced warrior is.”
It might have been supposed that the Indian was trying to mislead Deerfoot, but the latter saw his meaning and understood that it was his anxiety to tell the truth which caused him to make answer as he did.
“How many suns ago did the Pawnee part with the pale-face?”
Lone Bear showed he was thinking. His brow wrinkled and he seemed to be looking at something a mile behind the Shawanoe. Then he began counting on his fingers, like a child solving some problem in addition. Seeing that Deerfoot was watching him, he held up his left hand, with his fingers spread apart, and touched them one after the other with the forefinger of the right, until he had checked off four, thereby indicating that four days or suns had elapsed since he had seen Otto Relstaub.
“What tribe bought him from the Pawnees?”
“The pale-face went with no warriors.”
“With whom did he go?”
“The pale-face was in the woods alone.”
This was astonishing information, for it implied that Otto, like Jack, had managed to escape from his captors; such, however, was not the case.
Deerfoot repressed all sign of deep interest as he plied Lone Bear with questions.
“Did the pale-face run away when the skies were dark, or was it when the sun was in the sky?”
“The sun was so high that when Lone Bear walked in the clearing it cast no shadow,” replied the Pawnee, thereby signifying that Otto Relstaub disappeared at high noon. As it was clear that even the acute Deerfoot did not grasp the full story, Lone Bear attested his sincerity by adding:
“The youth whose face was pale became ill; he could not walk; the Pawnees lingered hours, hunting and fishing; but his face was white like the snow; he tried to rise, but fell down like a pappoose when its eyes first look on the day. Red Wolf raised his tomahawk to slay him, but Lone Bear stayed his arm. The Pawnees marched on and the pale-face lay on the leaves, white and ready to die.”
There at last was the practical solution of the mystery. The Pawnees had not bartered off Otto with any other tribe, but were journeying homeward with him when he fell ill. His captors had tarried near him for a time, but instead of recovering he had grown weaker, until one of the Indians proposed to end the trouble by sinking his tom
ahawk in his brain. He had been prevented from doing so, and then the warriors had quietly moved on, leaving the poor youth to die alone unattended in the wilderness.
But had he in reality perished? That was the question which was to be answered, but in order to do so, it was necessary for Deerfoot to gain all the information he could from Lone Bear, who, in fact, was the only one that could give it. He therefore plied him with questions, until nothing more was left to tell. His revelation was pitiful indeed.
Without any sense of the pathetic side of the narrative, Lone Bear repeated his account of how, while they were moving at a leisurely pace, Otto fell ill. It happened to be late in the afternoon, and as the spot was favorable, the company went into camp. The poor fellow lay ill all night, and on the morrow was so pale and weak, that his captors believed he could not live many hours. Still they stayed in the neighborhood until noon, when they abandoned him to his fate. Believing he would not survive more than a few hours, Lone Bear and another warrior placed his gun beside him, covered most of his body with leaves, laid his hat over his face, and composed his limbs, as if for the grave. Otto seemed about to die, and showed no interest in the last sad rites, his eyes being closed when they departed.
Having obtained these particulars, Deerfoot learned another surprising fact—the point where Otto was abandoned to die, instead of being a long distance to the east, was full three days’ journey in the opposite direction. That is to say, the Pawnees, after parting with the lad, had doubled on their own trail and were now the distance named from where it was supposed he had died.
The cause for this retrogression was the love of migratory life which is characteristic of the American race. The Pawnee villages, as I have stated, lay a long ways to the north-west, but among the party that had been on the long tramp, was a strong minority in favor of moving their town to the neighborhood of the river across which we have seen friends and foes pass so frequently. It abounded with game, had plenty of water, numerous fish, and its surface was undulating enough to suit their fancy. All this, no doubt, could be found in other places nearer home, but the stretch of open land which followed one side of the stream for a considerable distance, it may be said, was the deciding inducement. It was the ideal of a site for an aboriginal metropolis, for there was just enough land to put under cultivation to meet their simple wants.
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