The Edward S. Ellis Megapack

by Edward S. Ellis

  Before this, Deerfoot, without speaking a word, picked his way through the throng, who surveyed him curiously but did not stir until he was outside. The Shawanoe glanced at George and Victor Shelton, and by a look indicated that they were to follow him. They did so, silent like the others, and the three returned to their own tepee without exchanging a word on the road. They were awed by what they had seen and heard, and respected their friend too much to break in upon his meditations. He sat down on the furs in his usual place and they busied themselves with what may be considered their household duties, speaking only now and then to each other. The afternoon was drawing to a close, and, but for the fire that was kept burning, it would have been dark within the lodge. They prepared their meal, but when Deerfoot was invited to eat he shook his head, rose to his feet and passed out.

  The Shawanoe had no more time than to straighten up in the open air when he was face to face with Mul-tal-la, who was on his way to see him. They pressed each other’s hand and the visitor said:

  “Chief Taggarak wishes that his brother the Shawanoe shall come to his lodge.”

  “Deerfoot goes there,” replied the youth, who had been meditating doing so. “Will my brother go with Deerfoot?”

  “Only to the lodge. Taggarak does not wish to see him.”

  The two walked side by side, the hearts of both full. It was so dark that they drew no attention to themselves. Just before the well-known home of the chief was reached, Mul-tal-la turned off without so much as a farewell word.

  The war chief was expecting his visitor. He had sent his wife and boy away in order that he might be alone with the Shawanoe. He sat with his back against the rock, his position allowing the firelight to show his face clearly, especially one side of it. As he recognized his visitor he smiled and extended his hand, after the manner of white men. Deerfoot quickened his pace and grasped the palm and laid the other on the shoulder of the chieftain. How different from their meeting by the lookout rock several days before!

  “The heart of Deerfoot is glad,” said the visitor, in a low, tremulous voice.

  “Taggarak hears the birds sing again. There are no clouds before the sun. He is happy, for the Great Spirit smiles upon him.”

  One of the most marvelous facts connected with the true religion, and itself a proof of its divinity, is its complete adaptability to every condition of life and to every degree of intelligence. Its essentials are as readily grasped by the clodhopper as by the profoundest scholar whose years are spent in delving into the mysteries of science. No finite mind can fathom the mysteries of life, of death, of sleep, of the beginning, the end, of eternity, of the real nature of the soul and of God, how He came into existence; nor, indeed, shall we ever comprehend in all their fullness the simplest phenomena around us. What is the essence of color or taste or smell? How is the word spoken by us understood by him to whom it is addressed? When we move a hand or foot, where and how does the action begin? What is the theoretical limit of divisibility or expansion? These and scores of similar questions have only to be asked for us to feel the utter helplessness of our powers of understanding.

  But to the untutored savage, shivering in his rude wigwam and manacled by his sombre superstitions, the essential facts for the saving of his soul become as clear as the sun in the unclouded heavens. The man with a dwarfed intellect can see as plainly as he whose telescope, sweeping the heavens, carries his vision to the bounds of the universe.

  “All our philosophic pedants, all our sons of science know

  Not a whit more than that dullard knew a million years ago.”

  Deerfoot stayed with Taggarak for several hours. No one disturbed them, and the chief would have kept his comforter still longer had not the latter felt that it was better to leave the Blackfoot to his communings with God.

  When at last the Shawanoe emerged like a shadow from the lodge of the chief he did not go to his own home. Instead, he turned off, passed swiftly across the open space that had been the scene of so many contests and games, entered the hilly section and did not pause until he came to the place where he and Taggarak had fought several days before.

  Deerfoot had left his rifle at home and was alone. Folding his arms and standing on the very spot where he had flung Taggarak to the earth and held him at his mercy, he looked up at the faintly moonlit sky and murmured:

  “Deerfoot does not deserve such happiness as now fills his heart. He thanks God for His mercy.”

  Never in all his brief but eventful career had the young Shawanoe felt more unmistakably the presence of the Father whom he worshiped and strove to obey. Ambition gratified, triumph obtained, earthly love, physical or mental achievements, defeat of opponents, wealth, pleasure, gratification of taste and longings, all these combined cannot give to the human soul that thrilling happiness which kindles and glows and burns into life when Conscience whispers, “Well done!” and we know that some thought or word or deed of ours is pleasing to God.

  Nothing was or could be more real to Deerfoot than the cause of the radiance that suffused his being when he came from the lodge of the Blackfoot chieftain. Science may try to explain such emotions as an exaltation resulting from physical causes, but no such explanation can suffice. We feel that which we feel and know that which we know.

  CHAPTER XXI

  Homeward Bound

  Despite the remarkable experiences of George and Victor Shelton in the Blackfoot village, they found, as the weeks and months passed, a monotony that deepened their homesickness and caused them to yearn for the day when they could start southward and leave the bleak region forever behind. The winters in that latitude are generally severe, and the brothers got a taste of cold weather such as they had never known on the other side of the Mississippi. There must have been repeated spells when, had a Fahrenheit thermometer been in existence, it would have shown a record of thirty and forty degrees below zero.

  People who are accustomed to such Arctic experiences know how to prepare for them, and Deerfoot and the boys would have been foolish had they neglected so plain a duty. With wood abundant on every hand, a bountiful supply was kept within the tepee and outside, and weeks passed without the fire being allowed to go out. With the soft, warm furs at command, no one of the three met with more than a brief discomfort because of the fearful cold.

  The chief cause of anxiety was the horses. All were provided with shelter and carefully looked after. A good deal of grass had been pulled and much cottonwood and willow bark laid in stock. If the animals could not fare sumptuously, they had enough to keep them in good condition. Fully half a dozen of the Blackfoot horses were frozen to death, and those belonging to our friends would have perished but for the care they received. They were screened by blankets during the unusually severe weather, and Whirlwind received the tenderest attention from Deerfoot. More than once the Shawanoe stole out of the tepee in the depth of the night and tramped over the snow through an atmosphere that was still and as biting as the teeth of a saw. No matter how silently the youth moved forward, the stallion discovered his approach and whinneyed his welcome. Then when the blizzards raged Deerfoot never forgot to call and assure himself that nothing was neglected that could shield the faithful creatures. Thus they were saved from harm until the weather moderated upon the approach of spring.

  With the snow lying several feet deep on the level and piled ten times higher among the mountains, Deerfoot and the boys hunted with their friends on snow-shoes. It was exhilarating, but the resistless cold took away much of the pleasure that otherwise would have come to the lads. As for the Shawanoe, summer and winter seemed alike to him.

  When the village was helpless in the grasp of old Boreas, the inhabitants did little except cower in their lodges around their fires and eat and sleep. This sort of existence grew almost intolerable to the brothers. With every muscle and nerve yearning for action, they became impatient and sometimes fretful. When they spoke of themselves as prisoners it was the truth.

  Taggarak acted kindly toward George an
d Victor, but never showed any special friendship for them. It may have been because they belonged to another race. Toward Deerfoot he displayed a profound gratitude, a deep affection and reverence, amounting at times almost to worship. He was the messenger who brought the glad tidings of the one and only true God, and the chief in some way or other associated him with the divine message itself, as if he were a part of it.

  The snow and cold shut off communication almost entirely between the Blackfoot villages. Early in the winter and toward spring several warriors came down from the most northern settlement, but they did not remain long. It was known, however, among them all that Taggarak, the leading chief, had accepted the new religion, and his authority naturally weakened, but nothing in the nature of a revolt took place against his supremacy.

  Deerfoot frequently visited the chief, where none was so welcome as he. Taggarak never went to the tepee of the Shawanoe, for he preferred always to see Deerfoot alone. Mul-tal-la, Spink, Jiggers and seven other warriors openly confessed the Christian religion. Nearly double that number of squaws—among them the wife of the chief—did the same. Slowly and surely the leaven worked, and when the time drew near for the departure of the visitors it is probable that the number of converts was doubled, with the promise of further increase.

  Deerfoot and the boys made the parting as “informal” as possible. All through the winter the Shawanoe had impressed upon the Blackfeet that this separation in the nature of things would be brief. The time was certain to come, at no distant day, when they would all be together again. So he smiled, the boys bade good-bye to the numerous lads with whom they had played and hunted, and were so happy over the prospect of soon seeing their own home again that they could not repress their delight nor pay much attention to the regret, if not sadness, of the aboriginal youngsters.

  Deerfoot’s last hour in the village was spent alone with Taggarak in his lodge. What took place there and what was said by each were never known to anyone beside themselves.

  By the middle of the afternoon our friends had penetrated a number of miles to the eastward. A good deal of snow remained, and they had to pick their way with care. They would have been wise had they remained another month, as they were urged to do; but Deerfoot himself was as homesick as his companions and as willing as they to face the hardships that had to be faced for several weeks to come.

  Jack, Prince, Zigzag and even Whirlwind showed the effects of their long confinement, but all appeared to share the enthusiasm of their owners and worked royally to get forward. When they had traveled the distance named, the rest given them by their masters was not unwelcome.

  Naturally, upon halting, all turned their eyes westward. A moderate mountain spur hid the village from sight, but each knew where it lay. George and Victor scanned the field of vision with the aid of the glass, but noted nothing unusual. When Deerfoot took the instrument he stood for a long time directed toward a certain spot. He expected to see some object, and was not disappointed. On the top of the same bare brown rock where he had caught sight of Mul-tal-la when Deerfoot was coming to the village for the first time, he descried another form. It was not that of Mul-tal-la; it was Taggarak, who had climbed alone to the place, and, silent and motionless as a statue, was gazing after the little party of horsemen as they slowly faded from view in the distance.

  George and Victor kept their eyes on their friend, and when they noted the length of time he held the glass leveled they suspected the cause.

  “He sees some one,” said George, in a low tone.

  “It must be Taggarak. Look!”

  Deerfoot had lowered the instrument and was peering westward with his unaided vision. He was testing whether he could thus discern that which the glass revealed plainly. Evidently he did so, though the boys could not locate the form, even when they knew almost precisely where to look for it.

  Standing upright, the Shawanoe took his blanket from the back of Whirlwind and swung it back and forth over his head, for fully a dozen times. Then, dropping it to his feet, he brought the glass again to his eye.

  “Taggarak has seen it,” whispered Victor, who, like his brother, was watching the face of Deerfoot and noted the smile come to his countenance.

  Such was the fact. As the Shawanoe looked again he observed the chieftain rise from his sitting position and reply to the signal by waving his own blanket. The trained vision of the veteran warrior saw as clearly as those of youth. The action of Taggarak brought him into view of the lads, both noting the flickering of what resembled a mere speck in the distance. Finally, Deerfoot lowered the glass and turned about, as if to say that was the final parting from the chief who held him in such loving remembrance.

  The mountain peaks on every hand were covered with snow. On the lower ranges this would gradually dissolve under the rays of the sun, but others were so lofty that the white blanket remained throughout the year. While gazing at a towering range to the northeast the three witnessed the descent of an avalanche. Deerfoot was the first to see it, and directed the notice of the boys to the vast disturbance.

  The glance revealed nothing unusual, the enormous extent of slope looking as if it were motionless, but a second look told the truth. A grove of pines at the base of the range were suddenly snuffed out. This was because they disappeared under the prodigious mass of snow and ice that swept over them. Then a dark, irregular line, running right and left, and roughly parallel with the crest of the range, came into view. It was an eighth of a mile in length and the narrow width rapidly increased until there was a rent or yawn of several hundred feet, zigzagging from one side to the other. The dark color of this chasm was due to rocks and ground, and marked the break between the two sections or divisions of the avalanche. The upper portion caught and held, while the remainder swept downward without check. Thus a huge gap was opened, through which the brown earth and stones showed.

  The next strange sight was that of boulders, some of them weighing many tons, flung high in air and tossed about like so many corks. One might have thought that Titans were disporting themselves as did the fabled gods on Mount Olympus. As the inconceivable mountain of snow crashed onward it spread out at the base of the range, and finally settled to rest. Had an ordinary town been in its path it would have been buried to the tops of the highest steeples.

  Nearly all this had taken place before the three spectators heard the deep, thunderous roar that rolled across the space and told of the stupendous mass that had been loosened by the undermining rays of the sun or by some trifling disturbance of the atmosphere.

  “If we should be caught in anything like that,” said Victor, “it would take us a good while to dig out.”

  “My brothers might never dig out,” said Deerfoot.

  “What is there to hinder?”

  “There are many stones and rocks and boulders tumbling about in the snow, and they would be likely to kill us.”

  “Then, Deerfoot, you must keep your eyes open for avalanches. It would be pretty hard for the horses, though Zigzag has sort of got used to it.”

  Little need for warning the Shawanoe of his duty. That was what he had been attending to all his life. He had never placed himself and friends in the way of an impending avalanche. Recalling their course since leaving the village, the brothers understood better than before the cause of more than one tortuous winding by their guide, when they had been unable to guess the reason for such quixotic turns that did not lessen the labor of traveling itself.

  It was not yet midday, and the halt was not made for food for either man or beast. In truth, grass was so scarce, except here and there in the sheltered nooks and depressions, that some dependence would have to be placed for awhile on the barks of trees. Zigzag showed a meekness that roused distrust on the part of the boys. He must have found the heavy pack quite onerous, but he did not rebel. Whirlwind showed little lessening of his aristocratic tastes, and refused to mingle on anything like equal terms with the common stock around him.

  When Deerfoot and his compani
ons were journeying westward they decided to return by a different route from the Blackfoot country. Their first intention was to travel eastward until they reached the upper waters of the Mississippi, and then make their way down that stream to civilization, following in a general way the course of the mighty stream. With their horses, and without large boats, they could not utilize the current, unless perhaps after descending a long distance they were able to construct a large raft.

  This plan, which would have taken them through the hunting grounds of the Assiniboines, was changed, and they turned to the southeast, having been told that that course offered less difficulties to them. They gave up their former plan because of their wish to enter a moderate climate as soon as possible. Although spring was well begun, they had a good deal of snow and ice to encounter, and were likely to meet it for weeks to come. This was shown on their second day, when a driving storm of snow and sleet forced them to seek shelter for themselves and horses, and another day passed before they could resume their journey.

  The most trying difficulty was that of crossing streams, which were more numerous than they had supposed. Some were mountain torrents of only a few yards width, others deserved the name of rivers, and the current of each was of icy coldness. More than once they saw blocks of ice grinding and tumbling over one another as they plunged rapidly onward. It was so dangerous at times for the horses to attempt to swim across, and so hard and disagreeable for the youths, that hours were spent in hunting for a fording place. Fortunately they were always able to gather enough fuel to make themselves comfortable at night; grass became more plentiful and no trouble was had in procuring game. This generally consisted of bison, but it was a great improvement when they were able to bring down a Rocky Mountain sheep. This animal does not bear wool, but hair like that of the deer, and is larger than the largest domestic sheep. The horns of the males attain great size, starting from just above the eyes, though not touching at the bases, and curving over so as to include all the space between the ears. The meat at certain seasons is very palatable and held in high favor. The animal is generally known by the name of the “big horn,” and is so skilful a climber and so alert that it is quite a feat for a hunter to bring down a specimen. Deerfoot was the only one on this return journey who was able to bag the game, which never failed to elude George and Victor Shelton.