“Dog of an Assiniboine!” he muttered in the Blackfoot tongue. “The Shawanoe fears you not!”
The warrior leaped forward like a crouching tiger. He had caught sight of the lithe form in the faint glow of the firelight, and he assailed it with all the vicious vigor of his nature. The lightning-like blow of his knife made a hissing sound as it cut the air and buried its point in the blanket which Deerfoot thrust forward to receive it. Then the Shawanoe deliveredhisblow. Enough said.
Brief as was the terrific encounter, it occurred too close to camp for the other Assiniboines to remain in doubt for a moment. Moreover, when the victim of the Shawanoe’s prowess went down not to rise again he uttered an ear-splitting screech which echoed through the grove.
Deerfoot turned and ran among the trees after Whirlwind. From some cause the stallion had changed his direction and was waiting on the edge of the wood several rods from where his master emerged. The latter glanced hastily around in the gloom without seeing him. He uttered a low signal which the horse instantly obeyed, and with another neigh of delight trotted to his master.
Deerfoot was about to vault upon his back, but hesitated. The sounds indicated that the whole five Assiniboines had rushed to the spot and were already within arm’s reach of master and stallion. They would be so near when Whirlwind made his dash that they would fire a volley which was certain to kill one or the other, and not unlikely both rider and animal.
Nor could anything be gained by turning at bay and fighting the whole five, though the Shawanoe would not have hesitated to do that had no other recourse been left to him. With that quick perception which approached the marvelous in him he ordered Whirlwind to gallop along the side of the timber and again wait for him. Then Deerfoot dived among the trees as if in fear of the fierce warriors closing in upon him. His aim was to draw the attention of the party from the stallion to himself, and he succeeded.
For three or four minutes he dodged in and out, where in the gloom he could not escape more than one collision with the limbs. The whole party plunged after him. They knew that the audacious stranger had slain one of their number and were determined he should not escape their vengeance, for with him disposed of the black stallion could be recovered at leisure.
All the time that Deerfoot was whisking here and there, leaping to the right and left, and getting forward as fast as he could, he held his knife grasped and ready to use on the instant the emergency arose. He was so handicapped by the obstructions and the darkness that he could do little more than hold his own. His enemies were too near for him to hide himself from them. Had he attempted to do so the whole lot would have descended upon him like an avalanche.
There was no chance to select his route; all he could do was to drive ahead and avoid being driven at bay. He took care not to pass near the fire, where the glow would have betrayed him. He feared his foes would shoot, though everything was so obscured that they were likely to wait in the hope of capturing him or gaining a fairer aim.
A faint lighting up in front showed that he was nearing the edge of the wood. Two bounds carried him clear, and then, with the utmost speed of which he was capable, he ran along the margin to a slight turn in the conformation of the grove, when he leaped out into the open air and was off with as great fleetness as he displayed on the home-stretch in his race with Ralph Genther, after the turkey shoot at Woodvale.
By his dodging and trickery he had gained an important start, but not enough to put him beyond sight of the Assiniboines, who debouched from the timber at the moment the form of the Shawanoe was fast dissolving in the gloom. They were fleet of foot, and in the belief that they could speedily run the fugitive to earth they made after him. Hardly had the singular race opened when the astounded pursuers saw no fugitive before them! He had been swallowed up in the darkness like an arrow launched from a powerful bow. The Assiniboines must have come to the belief that whoever the stranger was he knew how to run. You and I came to that belief long ago.
One of the chagrined pursuers fired in the direction of the flying fugitive. The bullet probably passed within fifty feet of him, certainly not near enough for Deerfoot to hear the whistle of the missile.
The Shawanoe was too wise to maintain his flight in a direct line, for there was no saying how long his enemies would hunt for him. He made a wide detour to the right and passed around the head of the lake, moving as silently as a shadow and issuing no call to Whirlwind to join him. Reaching the point he had in mind he stopped, peered around in the gloom and carefully located himself. Then he placed his thumb and forefinger between his teeth and pierced the stillness with that peculiar whistle which could have been heard a mile away.
Meanwhile, if we can believe that animals are capable of reasoning, Whirlwind must have had some uncomfortable thoughts. He was listening for the next orders of his master and could make nothing of the tumult going on near him. He would have been eager to lend a helping hand, or, rather, hoof, but did not know how to lend it. He might make matters worse by the attempt. He had received his commands and it only remained for him to obey them.
While thus waiting, the Assiniboine leader—he who claimed him as his particular property—assumed form in the starlight and drew near. Whirlwind snuffed suspiciously. He could not understand matters, but he had seen his master and comrade and resented any impertinence from others.
The Assiniboine hurried up and extended one hand to grasp the forelock of the stallion, in order to lead him back to his place on the other side of the camp. At that moment the signal of Deerfoot rang out.
Perhaps the Assiniboine suspected the meaning of the call, for he darted forward and seized the forelock. Whirlwind instantly reared, and with a single blow of his hoof knocked the red man senseless. He did not kill him, but it is safe to conclude that when the Assiniboine regained his senses he knew a good deal more than he ever knew before.
The waiting Shawanoe heard the sound of hoofs, and a minute later saw the form of the stallion as he galloped up and paused with his nose thrust forward, asking for another caress.
He received it and in his mute way expressed his own pleasure at being with his master again. The danger was not yet over, and the Shawanoe deferred further petting until the opportunity was more fitting. Resting one hand upon the neck of the stallion he leaped lightly astride of him, still keeping the blanket about his own shoulders, for the night was keen and the horse did not need the protection.
Whirlwind yearned to stretch his limbs and speed away with his master on his back. But it would have been unsafe. After leaving the vicinity of the lake the country was rough, and in the darkness the surest-footed horse was liable to fall. Moreover, there was no need of haste.
So the stallion passed out into the night at his usual graceful walk, while his rider for the time listened and peered into the darkness behind him for sound or sight of the Assiniboines who would have given much for a chance to revenge themselves upon the daring youth that had outwitted them.
At the end of half an hour Deerfoot slipped from the back of his steed and pressed his ear to the earth. If the Assiniboines were following and were near he would learn the fact through this better conductor of sound. He heard nothing and once more vaulted upon Whirlwind.
Relieved for the time of all cause for fear, Deerfoot now gave grateful attention to the proud stallion that was bearing him southward. He first tested his recollection of the words of command which he had taught him, and which you will remember were in a peculiar language known only to the two. Whirlwind proved his excellent memory by promptly responding to every order addressed to him. Then the Shawanoe guided him by pressure of his knees, and by a certain manner of striking the heels of his moccasins against his sides. The result could not have been more satisfactory.
“Whirlwind is a bad horse,” said Deerfoot, feeling that it was time to have a little sport with him. “He ran away from Deerfoot on purpose. If he had had any sense he would have left the Assiniboines and set out to find Deerfoot instead of making Dee
rfoot travel so far to find him.”
It would be absurd to pretend that a horse, even with the rare intelligence of Whirlwind, could grasp the meaning of these words. However, he understood the sharp pinch which his master gave him on the side of his neck, followed by a brisk slap with his hand. The stallion reached his head around and nipped at the leg of Deerfoot, who drew it back and flipped the nose of the animal.
Then Whirlwind flung his head around his other shoulder and snapped at the leg on that side, which was hardly snatched out of the way in time to escape. Deerfoot gently smote the nose to remind the steed that with all his strength and wisdom the youth was still his master. Thus they parried and played and plagued each other until Deerfoot, with that curious refinement of cruelty which we often show to those we love most, pretended to be offended.
“If Whirlwind wishes to bite Deerfoot he may do so.”
And to show he meant what he said he reached forward and placed his hand between the lips of the horse. The latter instantly opened his jaws, so as to inclose the hand with his teeth. A slight effort would have crushed the fingers out of all semblance of symmetry and beauty. Whirlwind did bring his jaws nearly together, but took good care that the pressure was not sufficient to harm a fly.
Deerfoot’s heart smoke him. He could not stand this cruelty to as true a friend as ever lived. Resting his rifle across his thighs, so as to leave his hands free, he leaned forward, and, inclosing the satin neck in his grasp, gave the noble creature as fervent an embrace as wooer ever gave to sweetheart.
“Deerfoot loves Whirlwind, and his heart would have been sad all his life if he had not found him. None shall take him away from Deerfoot again. Deerfoot knows that we shall meet in that land that our Father is saving for those who do His will, and then Deerfoot and Whirlwind shall hunt and roam the forests and prairies forever.”
If the meaning of the words was vague to the stallion, he could not mistake the meaning of the embrace and the reposing of the side of the Shawanoe’s face in the luxuriant mane. He was fully repaid for the indignities he had suffered and the grief that had come to him because of the separation of the two. Had Whirlwind been able to put his ideas in words it is conceivable that he would have reproached the Shawanoe for deserting and leaving him among strangers. Had he not done so, no search with its attendant dangers would have been forced upon the youth.
And had this rebuke been given to Deerfoot, surely he would have admitted the justice of the charge, for we know how he reproached himself for his conduct. But we blame others for ills which we know are caused by ourselves, and we chide unjustly those whom we love most, knowing all the time how unjust we are, and that if we loved less the reproof would not be given at all.
CHAPTER VII
A Mishap
So Deerfoot the Shawanoe rode into the night, his heart aglow with gratitude because of the success of his venture. Whirlwind was his and he felt no misgiving over losing him again, and the steed himself would fight against recapture.
The animal kept to a walk, for to go faster would have been imprudent if not dangerous. He was not traveling over the course followed by Deerfoot in threading his way to the Assiniboine camp. The road was rough and strange to both horse and rider. All that the youth knew of a certainty was that he was journeying southward. He could tell that much by observing the stars that had served him so often as a compass.
Nor was there any necessity for haste. It was impossible for the Assiniboines to trail him until the sun appeared in the sky, when Whirlwind would easily leave the fleetest of their ponies out of sight. So no fear remained in the heart of the dusky youth. Speaking now and then to the animal, patting his neck and shoulder, or playfully pinching the glossy skin, he rode onward for several hours. He was not in need of sleep, and Whirlwind had been given nearly a whole day of rest. It was no task therefore for either to maintain the journey.
Deerfoot’s intention was to ride until midnight, when the two would rest, resuming their journey at sunrise and pushing hard until they reached the villages of the Blackfeet. It was late when the stallion splashed through a small brook at the foot of a ridge, where Deerfoot decided to dismount for the remainder of the night. Slipping from the back of the horse he pressed his ear to the earth, but heard nothing to cause him disquiet. If the Assiniboines were hunting for him they were too far off to cause concern.
While Deerfoot was thus employed, Whirlwind stood as motionless as a statue, waiting for his commands. The Shawanoe was in the act of rising to his feet when the steed emitted the slightest possible sniff. He was looking toward the top of the ridge immediately in front, standing like a pointer dog, with his ears pricked forward and head high in air.
Glancing in the same direction, Deerfoot saw the figure of a buck that had come up the other side of the ridge and halted on the crest, as if he scented something amiss. He could not see the two below him, but his own form was thrown into relief against the starlit sky. The beautiful creature with the branching horns, the delicate ears, the shapely head and body, looked as if stamped in ink in the dim star-gleam.
Deerfoot touched the shoulder of Whirlwind as a warning for him to keep still. The intelligent animal maintained his statue-like pose, and the youth began stealing toward the buck, his cocked rifle grasped with both hands and ready to bring to a level and fire on the instant. The space between the two was fifty or sixty yards, which would have been nothing by daylight. The youth wished to decrease it as much as he could because of the darkness, so as to run no risk of missing his aim.
It may not sound poetical, but it is only simple fact that with the sight of the buck unconscious of his danger the dominant emotion of the Shawanoe was a sense of ravening hunger. It was a long time since he had partaken of food and his appetite was worthy of Victor Shelton. He meant that that buck should fill the aching void that vexed him.
A phantom gliding over the ground would have given out no more noise than was made by the moccasins of the Shawanoe; but the timid animal snuffed danger and wheeled to dash away. At the instant of doing so, Deerfoot fired, sending the ball into the body just back of a fore leg. Thecervusspecies rarely or never fall, even when stricken through the heart, knowing which, Deerfoot dashed up the slope, knife in hand, and made after the wounded buck, which could be heard threshing among the stones and underbrush. He was still floundering and running when overtaken by the youth, who quickly ended his suffering.
The next act of Deerfoot was to reload his rifle, after which he cut a goodly piece from the side of the game and carried it back to where Whirlwind was waiting. The venison was washed and dressed, after which the youth groped about for fuel with which to start a fire. This proved quite a task, but he succeeded after a time, and then made one of the most substantial meals he had eaten in a long while. When it was completed hardly a fragment was left, and he felt he was provided for in the way of nourishment for a day or two to come, though he saw no reason to fear any such deprivation of food.
The Shawanoe could never forget his caution. While there was little probability of any of the Assiniboines being in the neighborhood, yet it was possible there were, and it might be they had observed the twinkle of the fire he had kindled and then allowed to die out. He remounted his horse and headed more to the westward, for he had a long way to travel to reach the Blackfoot country on the other side of the Rocky Mountains.
The youth was riding forward, glancing to the right and left, on the lookout for a suitable place for camping, when he noticed that while the ground over which he was passing was more level than usual, a high ridge loomed up on the left, rising in some places to a height of several hundred feet. After a time a similar formation appeared on the right. This showed that he was passing through a valley-like depression, but he had gone a comparatively short distance when he observed that the two mountain ranges, if such they might be considered, gradually converged. He turned to the left and at the base of the ridge dismounted.
“Here we will stay for the rest of the night
,” he said to Whirlwind. “Deerfoot feels that hard work is before us and it is wise to save our strength.”
Since there was no saddle or bridle to be taken from the stallion, his master turned him loose, first kissing his nose and affectionately patting his neck. The horse wandered off a few steps to spend the hours by himself, while the youth laid his blanket on the ground and wrapped himself in it. No water was near, nor was there enough grass growing for Whirlwind to crop, but neither cared for a little thing like that.
Deerfoot slept soundly till roused by the licking of his cheek by his faithful friend, who was standing at his head and looking down in his face as revealed in the dim morning light. The night was gone and it had brought no alarm to either. Casting aside the blanket, Deerfoot sprang to his feet and surveyed his surroundings.
That which first attracted his attention was the convergence of the massive walls to the southeast. Less than half a mile away they came within a hundred feet of each other, thus forming one of the cañons that are common in mountainous countries. The question which Deerfoot asked himself was whether it was probable the two joined. If so, he was entering a pocket from which he would be forced to withdraw. The middle of the valley showed that at certain times, perhaps when the snows melted, a stream coursed its way through the cañon, but the water came from the front and flowed toward the horseman into the open country to the rear. Had it taken the opposite course there would have been no hesitation on his part, for he would have known that an outlet was in advance through which Whirlwind could pass. On the other hand, it might be that the ridges united and the torrent had its source in the water which poured over the rocks at the head. If this proved to be the fact, Deerfoot would be obliged to retreat and make a change of course.
The Edward S. Ellis Megapack Page 248
