“Mein gracious! I dinks I hef got de wrong road!”
Jack was in despair; then he was angered.
“Go on; go somewhere; don’t stop here!” he said.
And he almost shoved him off his feet in his desperate impatience.
“Vosn’t dot fooney?” said Otto, breaking into another desperate run; “it is the road arter all.”
Not only at that moment, but for some time previous, it must have been in the power of the Pawnees to bring down both boys by shots from their guns. The intervening space was so brief, that all could not have missed, and when Otto made his last dash for safety, Jack Carleton was in such a direct line behind him, that a single well-aimed bullet would have laid both low; but the Indians, confident there was no escape for the boys, determined to make both prisoners.
Deerfoot, the Shawanoe, always referred to the action of the red men at that time as almost unexplainable. They must have known that the youths had friends close by, and that one of them was the young warrior whom they believed to be in league with the Evil One. The footprints which had guided them through the forest told that fact. There were only four Pawnees (one of whom was the warrior whom Deerfoot and Hay-uta held a prisoner the night before, and then allowed to go), and as the number of fugitives, if such they may be called, was the same, the advantage certainly could not be claimed by the hostiles. What common sense directed was for them to shoot the boys, and then withdraw, at least until re-enforcements arrived. Their failure to do so was a piece of shortsightedness which neither the Shawanoe nor Sauk understood.
The respite gained by the quick shot of Otto Relstaub was provident; it threw every one of their pursuers behind them, and the redoubled efforts of the lads carried them swiftly over the remaining space.
“Here we ish!” exclaimed the panting Otto, almost falling again.
“Where?” demanded the terrified friend; “I don’t see anything like the cave you told me about.”
“It ish de pest dot we have,” replied the German lad, noticing the disappointment of his companion.
CHAPTER XXIX.
A FIGHT AND A RETREAT.
That which Otto had called a cave proved really no cave at all. Up the winding ascent the fugitives sped, until opposite a lip or shelf, which projected from the rocks on their left. It extended forward three or four feet, rudely sloping away like the forepiece of a cap, but the concavity below was less than half that depth. Jack expected to find a retreat ten or fifteen feet deep. As it was, there was barely room to screen themselves from the flying bullets, and had the rain been driven from the opposite direction when Otto first sought refuge there it would have given no protection at all.
Jack was half disposed to continue his flight over the ridge, but fearful of the greater peril to which they would be exposed, and alarmed by the knowledge that their enemies were almost on their heels, he darted to the left, and stood with his back against the rocky wall, grasping his loaded and cocked rifle, ready to fire on appearance of the pursuers. Otto did the same, and, taking a position beside him, began reloading his weapon.
The hostiles did not stop, but hastened up the rough gorge, and in a twinkling the foremost dashed into sight. Quick as Jack was in bringing his gun to his shoulder, some one else anticipated him. The red man bounded high in air, with the inevitable death shriek, and went over backward, his body pierced clean through with an arrow driven with resistless force from the bow of Deerfoot, the Shawanoe.
This checked the rush of the other two, who found, what they ought to have known before, that the “Evil One” was on hand. They turned and ran at break-neck speed down the slope, vanishing with a swiftness that rendered it almost impossible for Deerfoot to bring down either of them had he been so disposed. Rapid as was their charge up the slope, their descent was a great deal more rapid.
Directly behind the arrow came Deerfoot, landing in the presence of the youths with such suddenness that Jack half raised his gun under the belief that he was an enemy.
Otto was so startled that he spilled the powder he was pouring into the barrel of his rifle, and the young Shawanoe smiled and said:
“My brother is not glad to see Deerfoot.”
“I ishn’t! you shust waits till I gots dis gun loaded.”
Working rapidly, he soon had the charge rammed home and the weapon primed for action. Then, leaning it against the wall, he impulsively threw his arms around the neck of the Shawanoe and kissed him on the cheek.
Jack Carleton was horrified, supposing the young warrior would be offended, but he smiled in a way which showed he was pleased with the honest fellow, who was not ashamed to show the affection he felt.
During the brief moments spent in pleasant interchange, Deerfoot was never quiet. His eyes were continually flitting hither and thither, and he glanced right and left, as though expecting some person or the occurrence of some event. The fact was, that, although the Indians who made the rash attack had fled, the Shawanoe was by no means satisfied. He reflected, that while only the four warriors had been seen, it was more than likely that others were within call.
There was no good reason for tarrying on the slope, and, as soon as Otto had finished loading his gun, Deerfoot signified they were to leave. For a brief spell nothing was to be feared from the panic-smitten Indians, but the Shawanoe glanced furtively down the gorge before leaving the partial shelter of the excavation in the rocks. Then they moved hastily to the top of the ridge, where a stop was made until all could take a survey of the surrounding country. This was an important matter, and Deerfoot did it in his usual thorough fashion, his eyes taking in the whole horizon.
The elevation of the ridge, and the sparse vegetation on the crest, gave the Shawanoe the best kind of an observatory, and he gained an extensive knowledge of the vast expanse of surrounding country.
Looking toward the south-east, the three saw a somewhat similar ridge, though less in extent. It seemed more than ten miles distant, and the attention with which Deerfoot regarded it showed that he was meditating some scheme in connection with it. It took him but a minute or two to form a conclusion. Then he scrutinized the territory in the opposite direction. Toward that point he was looking for enemies: it was there the Pawnee party was in camp or hunting back and forth.
Deerfoot was able to trace the river, on the other shore of which had been kindled the camp-fire of the Pawnees, but he could discover nothing of the warriors themselves. More than likely some of them identified the little party on the slope, and took good care to keep themselves out of sight.
Both Jack and Otto wondered at the absence of Hay-uta, the Sauk. He had been absent much longer than Deerfoot, and the report of guns and shouts of the Pawnees must have told him the same story which brought the Shawanoe in such haste to the spot.
Once more Deerfoot faced the distant ridge in the south-east Pointing toward it, he said:
“Let my brothers make haste thither, and wait for the coming of Deerfoot.”
“What’s the matter now?” asked Jack; “why don’t you go with us?”
“The Pawnees are on our trail; they will follow fast; my brothers must make haste while Hay-uta and Deerfoot tarry.”
A few words made clear the plan of Deerfoot. The Pawnees, like all their race, were extremely revengeful in their disposition, and they would never consent that the four intruders should be allowed to go back without punishment. They had slain several of their warriors, without receiving any injury in return. What though the Evil One, in the guise of a young Shawanoe, had charge of the little party, neither he nor they were invulnerable, and the well-aimed bullet must be more effective than the arrow of the matchless archer Deerfoot.
An additional incentive to pursuit lay in the fact that the Pawnees had learned of the trick that Otto Relstaub played on them. His presence in his own flesh and blood was evidence that could not be disputed. These and other considerations, which it is not necessary to give in detail, convinced Deerfoot that a sharp pursuit would be made by the hostiles. Such a pursuit
would be pushed at a pace which neither of the pale-faced youths could equal; they were certain to be overtaken unless skillful strategy was employed.
The Shawanoe, therefore, directed the boys to make for the ridge which he pointed out in the south-east. He told them to use all haste and reach it at the earliest possible moment. It was probable they could not do so before dark, but he impressed upon them the duty of making no halt until their arrival there. If darkness overtook them while several miles away in the woods, they must push on. Both, and especially the young Kentuckian, had had enough experience to know how to maintain a straight course when the sun was not shining.
Deerfoot expected to join them before daylight, but in the event of his failing to do so, they were forbidden to wait for him. At the earliest dawn, they were to press their flight, and keep it up to the utmost limit until nightfall. If by that time no further molestation resulted, they might consider all danger ended, so far as that particular party of Pawnees was concerned.
Deerfoot instructed the two friends to resort to every expedient to hide their trail. When they reached a stream, they were never to cross it by a direct line, but, if possible, wade a considerable distance before stepping out on the other bank. If they should find their path crossed by any thing in the nature of a river, they were to make a raft and float a long distance with the current, before resting their feet again on dry land.
It followed, as a matter of course, that all this strategy designed to throw the hostiles off the trail, ought to be equally effective against Sauk and Shawanoe; but the latter made necessary provisions against going astray. He had a clear understanding with Jack as to the distance he was to follow a small stream before leaving it on the other side, and, in case a river was reached, it was agreed that the youths were to drift downward a half mile. Then, when they emerged, a sign was to be left in the shape of a broken limb, dipping in the current. Such evidence would be detected at once by the Shawanoe from the opposite side of the bank—that is, if he had the daylight to assist him, and he could easily arrange that.
The sagacity of Deerfoot enabled him to provide against almost every contingency, and the time which he took in making such provision was but a fraction of that which I have consumed in the telling. Within three minutes after he directed them what they were to do, they were traveling down the slope, with their faces toward the distant ridge, and their feet carrying them rapidly in that direction.
Each of the boys understood the scheme of Deerfoot, and lost no time in speculating over its final issue. In fact the rule of invariable success seemed to apply so forcibly to every thing which he undertook that I am warranted in saying that neither felt any fear when he left the ridge and plunged into the forest stretching so many miles beyond.
“You have never seen Hay-uta,” said Jack, after they had walked some ways, the Kentuckian taking the lead.
“No,” replied Otto, walking faster than was his custom.
“He is a Sauk, and one of the five who went off with you when we parted from each other.”
“Den I dinks I seen him,” was the natural remark of the grinning German.
“Of course you have seen him very often, as he has seen you, but you never heard his name Hay-uta, and won’t recognize him from any description I give you.”
“Why not?” queried his companion.
“It seems to me,” replied Jack with a laugh, “that all negro babies and all Indian warriors look so much alike that no one can describe the difference. I have seen a great many Sauks, but it was hard work to tell them apart when they were a little ways off. Some of them were so hideous that they could be identified by their appearance, as others could by the scars on their features or the particular style they had of painting their faces.”
Otto naturally wanted to know how it was that a Sauk had come to be the ally of a Shawanoe, and why, when Hay-uta was any thing but a friend of Otto, he should travel so far and run into so much danger for the sake of rescuing him.
You and I know the explanation, and so it is not required that I should repeat the story of Hay-uta’s encounter with Deerfoot in the depths of the wilderness, when the Shawanoe vanquished the warrior, overcoming not only his physical prowess but his hatred, and how the words fitly spoken at that time had proven to be seed sowed on good ground which was already springing up and bearing fruit.
The boys became so interested in the subject that they involuntarily slackened their gait, while they discussed the incident and recalled the gentle reproofs which Deerfoot had given them more than once. It is at such times that we feel the prickings of conscience, and both Otto and Jack asked themselves the question: If this American Indian, born and nursed as a heathen, was so quick to grasp the Word, what excuse shall we offer in the last day when God shall demand of us why, with a hundred fold more light, we persisted in rejecting him?
CHAPTER XXX.
A SURPRISING DISCOVERY.
“What do you suppose Deerfoot once asked me?” said Jack Carleton, stopping short and staring in the face of his friend, who answered with native innocence,
“If you vasn’t ashamed mit yourself, ’cause you didn’t know more apout de woods?”
“He handed me some cold water in a cup which he made of oak leaves, and when I thanked him he smiled in that way of his which shows his beautiful teeth, and asked me whether I always thanked every body who handed me any thing like that, or who did me a favor; I told him that I would consider myself rude if I failed to do so. Then smiling a little more, he came for me! ‘Who gives you the sunlight?’ he asked; ‘who makes the moon and stars to light your feet at night? who gave you your good mother, your health, your food and drink, your clothes, your life? Do you thank Him when you lie down at night, and when you rise in the morning, and through the day?’
“I tell you, Otto,” continued Jack, “I stood dumb; he has reproved us both and made us feel thoughtful, but I never had any thing that went home like that. I have thought of it a hundred times since then, and that night when I lay down I prayed harder than ever before, and something told me that my prayers went higher, and that He who never turns away His ear was pleased. I didn’t say any thing to Deerfoot, but you know, young as we are, that in running back as far as our memories will carry us there are some words and little occurrences that stick by us forever. It is so with that question which was asked me by an American Indian in the deep woods just as night was closing in about us; his questions will cling to me if I live a hundred years.”
“I nefer heard him speak just dot way,” said Otto, who was in as serious a mood as his companion, “but he said a good many dings to me and sometimes to both of us which I forgets nefer—nefer—nefer! When he left me and the Injins was as cruel almost as fader and moder, I dinks a good deal apouts dem; when I was a layin’ by de fire and not knowin’ weder dey wouldn’t kill me, den I dinks apout dem again and prays hard; when I swallers de tobacco and feels as if I was dead, den I prays agin to Him and He makes me well and prings me owet all right; arter this I nefer forgets to prays to Him.”
There could be no misjudging the sincerity of Otto. Jack heard nothing in his quaint accent which could cause him to smile. In truth he was equally thoughtful.
“Most people are willing to call on God when they are in trouble or they think death is close,” was the truthful remark of the young Kentuckian, “but it seems to me He must despise a person who forgets all about Him when the danger goes by. I think if I was ashamed to profess Him before others, He ought to be ashamed of me when I came to die and called out in my distress.”
The conversation continued in this vein, until both awoke to the fact that they were violating the orders of Deerfoot, by loitering on the road; they had allowed valuable time to pass unimproved—that is according to one view, but in another sense it could not have been better used.
As if to make amends for their forgetfulness, it was agreed they should cease talking for the time, and break into a moderate trot, which both could maintain for half an
hour or more without much fatigue. Jack took the lead, and keeping the right direction, he struck the pace which resembled that of Deerfoot, though it was not so rapid nor could he maintain it for a tenth of the time the Shawanoe could run without becoming tired.
The wood as a general thing was favorable, though the occasional undergrowth cropping out of bowlders and rocks compelled some deviation and delayed their advance. No water appeared until they had gone several miles. Then it was that they found themselves alongside a stream of crystalline clearness. It was not very broad nor swift, though quite deep. Standing on one shore, the bottom could be distinctly seen clean to the other side. The bed was mainly a reddish clay, and here and there a few pebbles and large stones, but there was no difficulty in following with the eye the beautiful concave until the deepest portion in the middle was reached, and with the same line of beauty it arose to the land beyond.
“Otto, let’s have a swim!” called out Jack Carleton, after admiring the stream for several minutes.
What youngster could withstand such temptation? The afternoon was warm, and though rather early in the season, the water itself could not have been more inviting. The only answer Otto Relstaub made was to begin disrobing as fast as he could. Then it became a race between him and Jack as to who should be the first. The Kentuckian was only a few seconds in advance, and both frolicked and disported themselves like a couple of urchins who know they are doing something which they should not do.
Deerfoot had ordered them to push on and not to rest until they reached the ridge many miles beyond, where he hoped to join them. He would not be pleased if he should learn in what manner his wishes had been disregarded.
The boys dove and swam hither and thither, splashing each other and reveling in the very luxury of enjoyment. It will be understood how a couple of persons so placed as were they found such a bath not only a luxury but a necessity. Men who spend days and weeks in tramping through the woods, without a change of clothing, can not preserve the most presentable toilet, and the washing of clothing, which at other times was done by those at home, was looked after to a greater or less degree by him who was many miles away.
The Edward S. Ellis Megapack Page 220
