Camp-fire and Wigwam (2024)

By EDWARD S. ELLIS

AUTHOR OF "NED IN THE BLOCK-HOUSE," "NED IN THE WOODS," "NED ON THERIVER," "THE LOST TRAIL," ETC.

PHILADELPHIA:
PORTER & COATES.

Copyright, 1885,
BY PORTER & COATES.

Jack's Wrestling Bout with the Young Indian.

CONTENTS.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Jack's Wrestling Bout with the Young Indian

A Narrow Escape

The Signal

Deerfoot's Victory

CAMP-FIRE AND WIGWAM.

CHAPTER I.

AT HOME.

On the evening of a dismal, rainy day in spring, a mother and her sonwere sitting in their log-cabin home in the southern portion of thepresent State of Missouri. The settlement bore the name of Martinsville,in honor of the leader of the little party of pioneers who had leftKentucky some months before, and, crossing the Mississippi, located inthat portion of the vast territory known at that time as Louisiana.

There were precisely twenty cabins, all of which had been constructedwith a view to rugged strength, durability, and comfort. Lusty arms hadfelled the trees, that were cut the proper length and dovetailed in theusual manner at the corners, the crevices being filled with a species ofplaster, made almost entirely from yellow clay. The interiors weregenerally divided into two apartments, with a broad fireplace and therude furniture of the border. Colonel Martin himself, with theassistance of his two full-grown sons, erected a more pretentiousdwelling with two stories and a loft, but the other houses, as hasalready been stated, were of such a simple and familiar character thatthe American reader needs no further description.

Mrs. Carleton was a widow, whose husband had been slain by Indians inKentucky some time previous, and who, in the daily requirement of herduties, and in her great love for her only child, Jack, found somerelief from the dreadful sorrow that overshadowed her life. Kindneighbors had lent willing hands, and her home was as well made as anyin the settlement. Jack and his companion, Otto Relstaub, had arrivedonly a couple of days before, and each had wrought so hard in hisrespective household that they had scarcely found time to speak to orsee each other.

The evening meal had been eaten, the things cleared away, and woodheaped upon the fire which filled the little room with cheerfulillumination. The mother was seated at one side, the silentspinning-wheel just beyond, while her deft fingers were busy with herknitting. Jack was half reclining on a rude bench opposite, recounting,in his boyish fashion, the adventures of himself and Otto on theirmemorable journey, which has been fully told in the "Lost Trail."

The good mother possessed an education beyond the ordinary, and, knowingits great value, insisted upon her son improving his spare moments instudy. Jack was well informed for his years, for no one could have beenblessed with a better teacher, counselor, and friend, than he was. Evennow, when we reintroduce him to the reader, he held an old-fashionedspelling-book in his hand. He had tried to give his attention to hislesson, but, boy-like, his mind persisted in wandering, and his mother,looking fondly across the fire, was so pleased to hear him chat and toask and answer questions, that she could not find it in her heart tochide him.

"You have never seen Deerfoot, have you, mother?" he asked, abruptlybreaking in on his own narrative.

"Yes, I have seen him; he saved the life of your father."

"What!" exclaimed Jack, straightening up and staring at his parent inopen-mouthed amazement: "I never heard of that before."

"Didn't Deerfoot tell you?"

"He never hinted anything of the kind. He once asked me about father'sdeath and about you, but I thought it was only a natural interest hefelt on my account. But tell me how it was, mother."

"Some months before your father's death, he was absent a couple of dayson a hunt to the south of our home. He kindled a camp-fire in a deepvalley, where the undergrowth was so dense that he felt sure of beingsafe against discovery. The night was very cold, and snow was flying inthe air. Besides that, he had eaten nothing all day, and was anxious tobroil a wild turkey he had shot just as it began to grow dark. Hestarted the fire, ate his supper, and was in the act of lying down forthe night, when a young Indian walked out from the woods, saying in thebest of English that he was his friend. Your father told me that he wasthe most graceful and handsome youth he had ever looked upon——"

"That was Deerfoot!" exclaimed the delighted Jack.

"There can be no doubt of it, for he told your father that such was hisEnglish name. I forget what his own people called him. Well, he said toyour father, in the most quiet manner, that a party of Shawanoes werevery near him. They had heard the report of his rifle, and, suspectingwhat it meant, were carefully arranging to capture him for the purposeof torture. Deerfoot had seen them, and, having also heard the gun,learned what was going on. If your father had stayed where he was fiveminutes longer, nothing could have saved him. I need not tell you thathe did not stay. Under the guidance of Deerfoot he managed to extricatehimself from his peril, and, by traveling the entire night, was beyondall danger when the sun rose again. Deerfoot did not leave him untilcertain he had no cause for fear. Then, when your father turned to thankhim, he was gone. He had departed as silently as a shadow."

"That was just like Deerfoot!" exclaimed Jack, with kindling eye; "itseems to me he is like Washington. Though he has been in any number ofdangers, I don't believe he has so much as a scar on his little finger.He has been fired upon I don't know how often, but, like Washington, hecarries a charmed life."

The serious mother shook her head, and, looking over her knitting at herboy, made answer:

"Such a thing is unknown in this world; more than likely he will fall bythe knife or bullet of an enemy."

"I suppose he is liable to be shot, like any one else; but the Indianthat does it has got to be mighty smart to get ahead of him. Plenty ofthem have tried it with knife and tomahawk, but they never lived to tryit on any one else. But that ain't the most wonderful part of it," addedJack, shaking his head and gesticulating in his excitement with botharms; "Deerfoot knows a good deal more about books than I do."

"That does not imply that he possesses any remarkable education," saidthe mother, with a quiet smile.

The boy flushed, and sinking back said:

"I know I ain't the best-educated fellow in the settlement, but who everheard of a young Indian knowing how to read and write? Why, that fellowcan write the prettiest hand you ever saw. He carries a little Biblewith him: the print is so fine I can hardly read it, but he will stretchout in the light of a poor camp-fire, and read it for an hour at a time.I can't understand where he picked it all up, but he told me about thePacific Ocean, which is away beyond our country, and he spoke of theland where the Saviour lived when he was on earth. I never felt soashamed of myself as I did when he sat down and told me such things. Hecan repeat verse after verse from the Bible; he pronounced the Lord'sPrayer in Shawanoe, and then told me and Otto that if we would only usethe English a little oftener the Great Spirit would hear us. What do youthink of that?"

"It is very good advice."

"Of course it is, but the idea of a young Indian being that sort offellow! Well, there's no use of talking," added Jack, as though unableto do justice to the theme, "he beats anything I ever heard of. If thetruth should be written as to what he has done, and put in a book, Idon't 'spose one person in a hundred would believe it. He promised tocome and see us."

"I hope he will," said the mother; "I shall always hold him in thehighest esteem and gratitude for his kindness to your father and toyou."

"I tell you it would have gone rough with Otto and me if it hadn't beenfor him. I wonder how Otto is getting along?" said Jack, with anexpression of misgiving on his face.

"Why do you ask that?" inquired his mother.

"I think Deerfoot was worried over him."

"I do not understand you."

"Why, you know Otto has got the meanest father in the whole UnitedStates of America——"

"Those are strong words," interrupted the parent reprovingly.

"It is contrary to your teaching to talk that way, but you know, too,that it is the solemn truth. Deerfoot stopped at Jacob Relstaub's cabin,in this very settlement, some weeks ago, when it was raining harder thannow, and asked for something to eat, and to stay all night. What do you'spose Relstaub did? He abused him and turned him away."

"What a shame!" exclaimed the good woman indignantly. "Why did Deerfootnot come here or to one of the other cabins?"

"I don't know, but he went off in the woods by himself. Otto tried tobefriend him, and was whipped for it; but Deerfoot never forgot it, andhe risked his life to help Otto and me."

"It was very unkind in Mr. Relstaub, but you have not told me why youand Deerfoot were alarmed for Otto."

"Otto had the best horse that his father owns. It ran away from us, and,though we tried hard to get him again, we couldn't, and Otto and I camehome on foot. Knowing his father as well as we do, Deerfoot and I wereafraid the poor fellow would be punished because he lost the animal. Ihaven't had a chance to say much to Otto, and when I did, I didn't wantto ask him about it, but I would like to know whether he has beenpunished for what he couldn't help."

"I can answer that question," said Mrs. Carleton, softly; "his fatherwhipped him most cruelly yesterday."

"The old scamp——"

"Tut, tut!" warned the parent, raising her finger, "it was cruel, butOtto will survive it, as he has many other times, and before many yearshe will become so large that his father will not be able to punish him."

"I hope he will undertake it, and Otto will knock him——"

"Stop!" said the mother, more sternly, "you have already allowed yourfeelings to lead you too far."

"Pardon me, mother," said Jack, humbly, "I would not hurt your feelingsfor the world; but there is such a contrast between his father and you,and his mother is just as bad——"

Jack checked himself again, for his quick ear detected something. Heturned quickly toward the door of the cabin, and his mother, reading themeaning of the movement, did the same, holding her fingers motionlesswhile both listened.

The rain beat upon the roof, dashed against the window-panes, andrattled on the logs of the cabin, with a melancholy sound that made theinterior seem doubly cheerful by contrast. At times the wind roaredamong the trees, and some of the pattering drops found their way downthe chimney, and hissed among the flaming brands, making tiny blackpoints that were instantly wiped out by the ardor of the fire itself.

Suddenly the latch-string, which was only drawn in when the inmates wereready to retire, was pulled, the latch raised, the door opened, and OttoRelstaub, his garments dripping water, entered the room.

"Good-evening!" he called, pausing a moment to close the door againstthe driving storm.

Both greeted the visitor, and Jack, laying aside his book, advanced andwarmly shook the hand of his friend, bringing him forward and giving hima seat on the bench, which was drawn still nearer the fire.

Otto was attired very much as when we saw him last, but he did not carryhis gun with him. He took off his peaked hat, shook the water from it,and then his broad, good-natured face, gleaming with moisture and ruggedhealth, was raised to meet the mild, inquiring gaze of the lady, whoasked him how he was.

"Oh, I ish well," he answered, speaking English much better than he dida short time previous, "I have been working so hard dot I couldn't comeover before."

"I'm real glad to see you," said Jack, cordially, slapping him on theback and making the water fly; "if you hadn't called to-night I wouldhave dropped in to-morrow to see you. We've hardly had a chance to speakto each other since we got back."

"No, dot ish so," said Otto, with a sigh. "Father, he makes me workharder as I never did, to make up for the time dot I wasted in play, hesays. By Jiminy! I don't think dot was much play, do you, Jack?"

"It was the worst play I ever went through; two boys never worked harderfor their lives than did we, and if it hadn't been for Deerfoot, wenever would have reached Martinsville. I suppose your father gave you awhipping for losing Toby?"

"I should thinks he did! I hadn't been home one hours, when he went outand cut a stick, and used it up on me, and he doned the same yesterday."

Jack was about to break forth into vigorous language, when his motheranticipated him. Her voice was slightly tremulous, for, despite herenforced calmness, she could not altogether restrain her feelings.

"Surely he could not have understood the matter; I will speak to yourmother."

Otto shrugged his shoulders, with a laugh in which there was moresadness than mirth.

"Moder is worse than him; she tole him he didn't whips me half enough,and so he tried it again yesterday. I heard her tells him to-night dot Ineeded more, so I slips out and comes over here before he could geteverythings ready. May I stay here all night?"

"All night!" repeated Jack, "you may stay a week—a month—a year—yes,forever."

"I don't want to stay dot long," said Otto, with his pleasant laugh;"but fader, he tells me he will beat me every day till I brings back dehorse."

"Very well," said Jack, compressing his lips, "you won't go back tillyou get the horse—if it takes five years."

"Did your father tell you to stay away till you recovered the animal?"asked Mrs. Carleton.

"Dot vos just vot he says."

"Then it is proper that you should obey him."

Otto nodded his head to signify that his sentiments were those of hisfriends. He glanced slyly around the room, but did not explain what hewas looking for, and, unfortunately, neither mother nor son suspectedthe meaning of the look; but Otto's hard-hearted parents had actuallydriven him from their home without allowing him to eat a mouthful ofdinner or supper. He was suffering with hunger, but was plucky enough tobear it without complaining, since his friends had partaken and clearedaway the table long before.

"What do you intend to do?" asked Mrs. Carleton, who deeply sympathizedwith the poor lad.

"I goes home in de mornings and gets my gun and powder-horn before theycan whips me, and then I goes off to hunt for Toby."

"And I'll go with you!" exclaimed the impulsive Jack, springing to hisfeet; "you'll let me, mother, won't you?" he asked, turning beseechinglytoward her.

Recalling the perils through which her only child had passed sorecently, the widow could not but contemplate with dismay the prospectof having him venture into the wilderness again; but she felt deeply forpoor honest Otto, who was so willing and good-natured, and who had shownsuch a desire to help her while her own boy was in Kentucky.

Furthermore, she knew that Louisiana was a much less dangerous countrythan the Dark and Bloody Ground. Few of the Shawanoes, Hurons, and otheractively hostile tribes ever crossed to the western side of theMississippi, where the Osages gave little trouble to the settlersscattered through that immense territory.

Otto's eyes sparkled when Jack Carleton leaped to his feet and declaredhe would go with him on the search for the lost horse (subject, ofcourse, to the consent of his mother), and the German youth lookedpleadingly toward the good woman, who, it is hardly necessary to say,yielded consent, giving with it a large amount of motherly counsel, towhich the boys listened respectfully, though candor compels me to saythat the thoughts of both were far away among the green woods, besidethe sparkling streams, and in the shadows of the chasms, ravines, andgloomy mountains, whither, as they well knew, the curious search wouldlead them.

CHAPTER II.

A DOUBTFUL ENTERPRISE.

One of the commendable habits of the early settlers and old-fashionedfolks was that of retiring and rising early. They were ardent believersin the saying of Poor Richard that "early to bed, and early to rise,makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise."

It was not yet nine o'clock, when Jack and Otto, despite the deepinterest they felt in their projected campaign, voluntarily withdrew tothe other room, where they fell asleep within five minutes after theirheads touched the pillow. The mother remained by the fire some timeafter the boys withdrew. Her small white fingers flitted hither back andforth, while her mild brown eyes seemed to look beyond the flashingneedles, and into the glowing coals on the hearth. Her thoughts were sadand sorrowful, as they always were when she sat thus alone. Theywandered back to that awful time when her loved husband was strickendown in defence of her and their little boy.

But to-night she was thinking more of that boy than of the father. Shesaw how much like the latter he was growing, and she trembled when sherecalled that he was soon to start on another excursion into thewilderness, to be gone for days, and likely for weeks, and with nocertainty of ever returning again.

As the night advanced, the fury of the storm diminished. At "low twelve"the fall of rain ceased altogether. The wind blew strongly, sometimeswith a power which caused the strongest trees to bow their heads to theblast. As the morning approached, it died out altogether, and the sunrose on one of the fairest days that ever was seen.

Early as was the orb, the inmates of the cabin were waiting to greet itwhen it appeared above the horizon. The boys were in high spirits overthe beautiful morning, and both felt that it promised well for theventure before them.

"I tell you we're going to win!" said Jack, compressing his lips andshaking his head. "I feel it in my bones, as your father says, justbefore a storm comes."

"Dot's vot I dinks," assented Otto, whose only discomfort was hisexceeding hunger: "Vot you dinks, Mrs. Carleton?"

"I hope you will not be disappointed; that is the most I can say. Jack'sfeeling that you are going to succeed is simply his pleasure over theprospect of a ramble in the woods. We will eat breakfast, after whichyou can go home and make your preparations for the journey."

When they were seated at the table and Otto's hunger was nearlysatisfied, he told his friends with a grin, that it was the first foodhe had tasted in twenty-four hours. They were shocked, and both took himto task for his failure to make known the truth the evening before. Hemade the philosophic reply that if he had done so he would have missedthe boundless enjoyment of such a meal as that of which he was thenpartaking.

Mrs. Carleton on rising in the morning felt that Otto ought not to beallowed to go on the expedition until after a further talk with hisparents, who, despite what they had said, might be unwilling for him toengage in such an undertaking; but when she learned how the poor fellowhad been made to suffer with hunger her feelings changed. It was hard torepress her indignation, and she made up her mind to talk to the cruelfolks as they had never been talked to before; but she allowed noimpatient word to escape her in the presence of their son. She simplyadvised him to depart as soon as he could upon the hunt for the horse,and not to return, if possible, until it was recovered or anotherobtained.

"Dot is vot I does," replied Otto with a shake of his head and adetermined expression; "Otto doesn't comes back till he brings some kindof animal—if it's only a 'coon or 'possum."

When he walked over to his own home (the building for which wasprecisely the same as that of widow Carleton), his father and motherwere eating their breakfast. They looked surlily at him as he entered,and the mother showed her incredible heartlessness by asking her onlychild in German:

"Where is Toby that you lost?"

"How can I tell, mother, except that he is in the woods? I tried hard tofind him again, and had it not been for Deerfoot I would have lost mylife; but he is gone."

"Did I not tell you to go and not come back until you brought him withyou?" demanded the father, glaring at his boy as though he was ready tothrottle him.

"So you did—so you did; but I couldn't do much last night, when it wasso dark and stormy. I have come over to get my gun and ammunition."

The father and mother looked in each other's faces, as though in doubtwhether they would let the lad have the property, but before thequestion could be debated Otto had flung the powder-horn over hisshoulders, adjusted the bullet-pouch, shoved the hunting-knife in thegirdle at his waist, and walked to the front door, where he halted andlooked back.

"Can't I have breakfast before I go?"

"No!" fairly shouted the father; "begone; you shall not have a mouthfulunder my roof till you bring back the colt you have lost."

"Nobody wants anything you've got on that table," the lad wasindignant enough to reply: "I've had one meal that was worth more than adozen like that. Good-by!"

And before the dumfounded parents could rally from the unparalleledimpudence of the youth he was gone.

When he reached the home of Jack Carleton, the latter was waiting andimpatient to start. Jack had already kissed his mother good-by severaltimes and he repeated the fond embrace. Tears were in the eyes of both,and the mother stood in the door of her cabin shading her eyes with herhand until the two passed from sight in the forest beyond the clearing.

Several of the pioneers who were busy about the settlement greeted theboys and inquired their errand. Colonel Martin shook hands with them,and asked all the particulars of the business on which they wereengaged. His age and position authorized him to ask such searchingquestions, had the couple been full-grown men instead of boys.

Otto answered truthfully, and the colonel smiled grimly and shook hishead.

"It's mighty little chance you have of ever finding that horse again,but you may come upon another. Take my advice, however," added thecolonel with a wink of his left eye, "make certain the owner isn't insight when you walk off with the animal."

"Why, colonel, you don't think we mean to steal a horse!" exclaimed thehorrified Jack.

"Certainly not—certainly not," the principal man of the settlementhastened to say, "I don't believe you could be persuaded to do such athing—that is if the owner was looking."

"We couldn't be persuaded to do such a thing under any circ*mstances,"exclaimed Jack, his face flushing over the idea that any one who knewhim should suspect him capable of such a crime.

"See here," said the colonel, dropping his voice and stepping in frontof them, "you tell me you are going after a horse. Have you the moneywith you to buy one?"

"No; we cannot get one that way."

"I judged not; how then do you propose to obtain him?"

"Toby, the colt belonging to Otto's father, is wandering in the woodsnot very far away——"

"How do you know he is?" interrupted the colonel.

"Why, he was doing so only a few days ago."

"That is no proof that he is keeping it up; in fact it is scarcelypossible that such is the case. Recollect, my boy, that several tribesof Indians hunt through this portion of Louisiana, and they would bemuch quicker than you to observe the trail of a horse wearing an ironshoe; they would be inquiring enough also to investigate for themselves,and, when they came upon the colt, they would snap him up quicker thanlightning."

The boys felt that somehow or other the wonderful young Shawanoe wouldappear at the right moment and lend them the help which they werecertain to need. Should he fail to do so, they could no more recaptureand take the colt to his owner than they could penetrate into the Darkand Bloody Ground and bring back the great war chief Tec*mseh as aprisoner.

But neither Colonel Martin nor any one in the village knew anythingabout the extraordinary Indian youth, and, while Jack was asking himselfwhether he should linger long enough to explain the situation, thegentleman relieved them from the embarrassment by a hearty slap on theshoulder of Jack, and the exclamations:

"I was once a boy myself! I haven't forgotten that jolly time: wealways liked to have some sort of excuse when we went off on a frolic.You see what a lot of work there is to do in clearing the ground andgetting it ready for cultivation; you would much rather be hunting andrambling through the woods; I can't say I blame you, so off with you,and when you come back with word that the horse was mean enough to keepout of your way, why we won't be too hard on you."

And with another resounding slap, the hearty colonel gave the boys avigorous shove which sent them forward among the trees, near which theyhad halted.

CHAPTER III.

WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN EXPECTED.

Jack Carleton was too sensible a youth to suppose that the Lost Trailcould be found by a blind wandering through the immense expanse ofwilderness, which stretched hundreds of miles in almost every directionfrom the little settlement of Martinsville. Both he and Otto had astrong hope, when they reached home after their stirring adventure withDeerfoot, that the colt Toby would follow them of his own accord. Hebelonged to a species possessing such unusual intelligence that therewould have been nothing remarkable in such a proceeding, and the factthat he did not do so, gave ground for the belief that he had falleninto the hands of parties who prevented the animal from doing as hechose.

One fact was clearly established; Toby had been within a comparativelyshort distance of the settlement, and, if he had remained anywhere inthe neighborhood during the late storm, traces of him must be foundwithout much difficulty. But one of the easiest things in the world isto theorize over any problem; to push that theory to a successfulconclusion is altogether another matter.

While it lacked a couple of hours of noon, the boys reached an elevatedsection which gave them an extended view in every direction. Looking tothe eastward, Otto fancied he could detect the gleam of the distantMississippi, but Jack assured him he was mistaken. Too many miles laybetween them and the mighty Father of Waters for the eye to traverse thespace.

Young Carleton took off his cap and drew his handkerchief across hisperspiring forehead. Then he sighed and smiled.

"This doesn't appear so hopeful to me as it did last night, when we sataround the fire and talked it over; but of course we won't give up solong as there's the least hope."

"And it won't do for me to give him up then," replied Otto, with ameaning shake of his head; "you don't know my fader as well as me."

"I don't want to either," remarked Jack, who did not think it his dutyto refrain from showing the contempt he felt for the miserly, cruelparent of his friend.

"No," observed Otto, with a touch of that grim humor which he sometimesdisplayed, "I doesn't dinks dot you and him could have much funtogether."

The young friends were too accustomed to the immensity of nature, asdisplayed on every hand, to feel specially impressed by the scene whichwould have held any one else enthralled. It may be said they were "onbusiness," though it had very much the appearance of sport.

"Halloo! I expected it!" called out Jack Carleton, whose gaze abruptlyrested on a point due southwest, and more than a mile away.

His companion did not need the guidance of the outstretched arm andindex finger leveled toward the distant spot, where the smoke of acamp-fire was seen climbing toward the blue sky. The scene on which theboys looked was similar to that which met the eye of Ned Preston andDeerfoot when they lay on the broad flat rock and gazed across at thesignal-fire in the distance.

The wooded country gradually sloped to the south and west from theelevation whereon the young friends had halted, slowly rising andundulating until the eye could follow the blue wavy outlines no further.At the point already named, and in the lowest portion of the interveningcountry, a camp-fire was burning. The smoke, as it filtered upwardthrough the branches of the trees, and gradually dissolved in the pureair above, was seen with such distinctness that it caught the eye ofJack the moment it was turned in that direction.

It was not a signal-fire, such as one is likely to detect whenjourneying through an Indian country, but the vapor from the camp ofsome body of men who were not making the slightest attempt to concealthemselves, for it cannot be conceived that they had any reason fordoing so.

If the party were Indians, they surely had no necessity for stationing asentinel on the outskirts of their camp to watch for danger.

Jack and Otto looked in each other's faces and smiled; the naturalquestion had presented itself at the same moment. It was, "Can it bethat the horse we are seeking is with them?"

"The only way to find out is to go forward and see for ourselves," saidJack, after they had discussed the question for several minutes.

"'Spose dot de horse is with them—what den?"

Jack shrugged his shoulders.

"Deerfoot used to say that he could never answer such a question untilhe knew exactly how everything stood. Now, we can't be certain whetherthey are Indians or white men, and I don't know as it makes muchdifference one way or the other, for our own horse thieves over inKentucky were dreaded as much as were the Shawanoes. They were a gooddeal meaner, too, for they oppressed their own race."

"Dot is vot I sometimes dinks of fader," was the unexpected remark ofOtto; "if he was only a colored man or Injin I would have more respectfor him; dot is so."

"Come on; we have started out to do something, and we can't gainanything by staying here."

The brief halt had refreshed the boys, and they now moved forward withtheir naturally vigorous and almost bounding steps. While they had muchcuriosity, and a somewhat singular misgiving, yet they were in noparticular fear, for it was impossible to believe they were in any realperil.

It was quite a tramp to reach the camp in which just then they felt somuch interest, and the sun was close to meridian when Jack, who wasslightly in advance, slackened his gait, and remarked in an undertone:

"It can't be far—halloo!"

While picking their way through the valley, they lost sight of thewavering column of vapor, except once or twice when they were able tocatch a glimpse of it through the tree-tops. Jack's exclamation wascaused by another sight of the murky column, which, as he suspected,proved to be little more than a hundred yards distant.

There was so much undergrowth that nothing of the fire itself could beobserved, though the smoke showed itself distinctly in the clear airabove.

"Vell, vot does we does now?" was the natural query of Otto, as heplaced himself beside his young friend.

"I guess we may as well keep on, until we find out who they are."

"After we finds out vot we does den?"

"We shall see—come on."

It was simple prudence that they should speak in whispers, and step withas much care as if they were scouts entering the camp of an enemy. Itwould have been rashness to neglect so simple a precaution, no matterhow favorable the circ*mstances.

"Holds on!" whispered Otto, "I dinks I goes around the oder side whileyou takes a look on dis side."

"There is no need of doing that," interposed Jack; "we found out theconsequence of separating when in danger. You needn't keep behind me,but you may walk at my side."

"All right," responded Otto, obeying the suggestion.

A rod or two further, and something red gleamed, among the trees andundergrowth. Smoke was observed at the same moment, and immediatelyafter came the hum of voices and the sight of persons stretched on theground in lolling, indolent positions, while some were sitting on afallen tree, and two were engaged in broiling some venison, whichevidently was meant to furnish dinner for the rest. The majority weresmoking a species of red clay pipe, and the appearance of the partysuggested that they were resting after a laborious tramp through thewoods.

There were precisely ten, and they were Indians—every one. Jack couldnot be certain of the tribe to which they belonged, but inasmuch as itwas apparent they were neither Shawanoes nor Hurons, he was confidentthey were Osages, though it was not impossible that their totem wasanother altogether.

Several peculiarities about the strange Indians interested the youth.They were noticeably shorter in stature than the Hurons and Shawanoeswhom they had been accustomed to meet on the other side of theMississippi. The poetical American Indian is far different from the onein real life. It is rarely that a really handsome warrior or squaw ismet. They are, generally a slouchy, frowsy, lazy, unclean people, ofwhom nothing is truer than that distance lends enchantment to theirview.

Those upon whom Jack and Otto gazed with natural curiosity, were notonly shorter in stature, but of homelier countenance. Their eyes weresmaller, more piggish, and further apart, their cheek-bones moreprominent, the foreheads lower and more sloping, while Jack alwaysasserted that they had much larger mouths than the Indians with whom hewas familiar.

While asking themselves whether it was wise to go any closer and to maketheir acquaintance, the lads stood side by side, each with the stock ofhis gun resting on the earth, while their whole attention was absorbedby the curious scene before them.

It would naturally follow that if the Indian party was in such plainsight of the boys, they themselves must have been visible to the red menhad they chosen to cast their searching glances towards the spot wherethe two were standing, even though the latter were partially hidden bythe undergrowth.

Had Jack and Otto been as vigilant and suspicious as they ought to havebeen, their misgivings would have been awakened by what took placewithin the next ten minutes. Two of the warriors, leaving their rifleswhere they were leaning against a fallen tree, leisurely rose andsauntered into the woods, taking a course directly opposite to thatwhich would have led them to where the boys stood. The latter observedthe movement, but thought nothing of it.

"What do you say?" finally asked Jack, in a guarded voice; "shall we goforward and make their acquaintance?"

"Dey haven't any horses that we can see, and I dinks dot we better goesaway till some other time."

"I am inclined to believe you are right——"

At that moment, and without the least warning, a brawny, coppery armshot over the shoulder of Jack Carleton, and, grasping his rifle with aniron grip, snatched it from him. At the same instant, a preciselysimilar movement deprived Otto Relstaub of his most important weapon,the two friends being made prisoners before they dreamed they were inthe least danger.

CHAPTER IV.

CAPTORS AND CAPTIVES.

With an exclamation of affright, Jack Carleton whirled on his heel andfound the broad, grinning face of one of the warriors almost against hisown. Holding the rifle back, as if expecting an attempt to recover it,the savage thrust his head forward, with a tantalizing expressionoverspreading his ugly features. At the same moment he mutteredsomething very rapidly in his own tongue. Not a word was understood byJack, but he was sure the warrior said, "Ah, ha, young man, I've caughtyou, and you can't help yourself."

The experience of Otto Relstaub was slightly different from that of hiscompanion. When he found his rifle gone and a squatty Indian at hiselbow, he was panic-stricken.

"Mine gracious!" he exclaimed, "this ain't de best place for me; I dinksI goes to some oder place."

Naturally he made a dash to retrace his steps, but the warrior was tooquick for him. He had taken his second step only, when his captorgrasped the ankle of the foot that was rising from the ground, and drewbackward with such force that Otto sprawled on his face.

Jack, who could not believe that these red men were of a very sanguinarydisposition, laughed outright over the discomfiture of his friend.

"Can't you kick him loose?" he called.

"If he don't hang on too tight," replied Otto, trying with might andmain to free himself.

The moment the boys were captured, the attention of the entire companywas centred upon them. All talking ceased, and every one stood up andlooked toward the point of interest. Several went forward to meet thecaptives, and the general grin that lighted up the aboriginalcountenances seemed to shed a mild sort of sunlight among and under thetrees.

"It's no use," said Jack to his friend; "we can't get away until theyare ready to let us go."

"Vot does they mean to do mit us?"

"That is hard to tell," replied the young Kentuckian, with a seriouscountenance; "I don't know to what tribe they belong, but I believethey ain't half as bad as the Shawanoes."

"Dey couldn't be any more cruel don dem," was the truthful observationof the young German.

In the course of a few seconds the boys were fully introduced to thecamp-fire of the strange Indians, who were not in war paint, and who, asthe boys rightly believed, belonged to a less bloodthirsty totem thandid the redskins on the eastern bank of the Mississippi.

Every warrior was standing on his feet, and they all crowded around theboys, as though they had never seen any of their race until that moment.They continually talked in their guttural, grunting fashion, smiling andnodding their heads. Two of them pinched the limbs of the boys as thoughtesting their muscle. So far from showing any alarm, Jack Carletonclenched his fist and elevated his arm, swaying the hand back and forthas if proud to display the development of his biceps. But Otto was intoo doleful a mood to indulge in anything of the kind.

As a matter of course, the Indians could not feel the slightestmisgiving on account of their prisoners. They must have known of thesettlement only a few miles distant, and they had not offered to disturbit, nor had they molested any of the pioneers when they ventured intothe woods in quest of game.

Such being the case, it can be readily seen that, so far as the settlerswere concerned, the Indians were safe. Although within gunshot ofMartinsville, the red men took no precaution at all against molestationfrom them.

It struck Jack as curious that among the warriors gathered around them,not one had as yet spoken a word that he could understand. The Americanrace have shown a quickness from the first to pick up expressions fromthe language of those near them. Who has forgotten Samoset's "Welcome,Englishmen!" uttered to the first settlers at Plymouth, who were at aloss to understand where the red man learned the pleasant words?

Jack Carleton, who retained his self-possession much better than did hisfriend, listened hopefully for some word which he could recognize.

While he was disappointed in that respect, he could not believe that heand Otto were in any imminent peril from their captors, though, on theother hand, he was very far from feeling safe against harm. With acoolness that must have awakened admiration among the barbarians, theyouth, standing in the middle of the group, folded his arms, andsmilingly looked in the repellant faces, none of which were at a greateraltitude than his own.

After pinching different parts of the bodies of the boys, the Indiansseemed to be satisfied and stepped back. The majority sat down on thelog, others sauntered away, relighting their pipes that had burned out,and the two who had been serving as cooks, gave their attention to thevenison steak, whose appetizing odor filled the surrounding space.

"Otto, we may as well take it quietly," said Jack, sauntering to thebutt of the log, and seating himself, "they don't mean to tomahawk usjust yet, and I hope they will give us some dinner before they disposeof us."

The German imitated the action of Jack, but he did not share hisself-possession. He shook his head in a way which showed he was far fromfeeling comfortable.

"You seem more scared than when we were behind the logs, with theShawanoes and Hurons on the outside," said Jack; "I don't understand howthat can be. I am sure there is less to dread from these Indians thanfrom them."

"It ain't de Injins dot makes me feel so bad," replied Otto with arueful expression, "but fader."

"What's the matter with him?"

"De colt is lost and now dey takes mine gun from me; if I goes back dotway, fader will whip me harder than ever."

Jack was serious for a moment and then he laughed.

"I never dreamed that that was your trouble. Of course, if you go homewithout your gun the old gentleman will be angry, but there is one goodthing about the matter."

"What's that?"

"No matter what happens, he can't be any meaner and more cruel than heis now."

Otto removed his tall, conical hat, looked thoughtfully down at theground in front, and slowly scratched his head. Manifestly he was indeep thought. Suddenly he looked up, his face aglow.

"Dot is so. I don't care now vot dey takes, I will valks home and tellsfader and moder dot I lost it, den won't they be mad! Oh, minegracious!"

And leaning far back on the log and donning his hat, he slapped his kneewith his right hand and shook all over with laughter. There is somethingcontagious in such an exhibition, as we all know, and not only did Jacklaugh in unison, but several of the warriors showed they were amused.

"I thought all the time Otto was alarmed on account of the Indians,"said Jack to himself, "and it was nothing of the kind; he was onlyafraid that his father will be madder than ever when he goes back notonly without the lost horse, but without some of the property he tookaway with him. Now that fear is gone and Otto begins to feel better thanI do, for," thought the youth, looking around him, "we certainly are notin the best situation in the world."

The youth could not help observing that while the Indians seemed to paylittle attention to them, he and Otto were under strict surveillance. Asno motion had been made to bind them, the boys could make a suddenbreak or dash for liberty whenever the whim took possession of them, butnothing could be gained and a great deal might be lost by such anattempt. Stumpy and heavy-set as were the warriors, they could easilyoutrun their captives, and rather than permit them to get away, theywould doubtless riddle them with bullets. Consequently, while the samethought came to each of the friends more than once, as they satconversing on the log, neither proposed any effort to get away.

They had brought nothing in the shape of lunch with them, and it may bedoubted whether any one of the Indians was more ravenously hungry thanwere they. It would go hard with them, if deprived of their share of thedinner, prepared by the aboriginal cooks.

When the huge slices of venison were half broiled, the distributionfollowed. The cooks handled their hunting-knives with such deftness,that in a twinkling, as may be said, the jaws of the entire party werevigorously at work. After receiving their respective shares, few madethe slightest use of their knives. The aborigines live and eat so muchlike wild animals, that, almost without exception, they possessadmirable teeth which need no artificial assistance.

"My gracious!" whispered Jack, "I believe they don't mean to give us somuch as a bite."

"If dey doesn't do so, den I dies mit hunger," was the despairingexclamation of Otto, who forgot that only a few hours had passed sincehe had partaken liberally of food. "I never felt so hungry as I feelsnow, and now I'm growing worser——"

Something thumped against the side of the speaker's head with such forcethat his hat fell off. Jack had just time to see that it was a piece ofcooked venison, when a similar blessing struck him.

The two Indians were dexterous throwers, and they and half a dozen weregrinning over the result.

The result was satisfactory in every way to the victims, if such theymay be considered, for, besides furnishing them with the much-needednourishment, it was a strong proof of the indifference, if not thegood-will of their captors. Had they felt ill inclined toward the boys,they would not have shown such kindness toward them.

"When you are in Rome, do as the Romans do," laughed Jack, seatinghimself on the fallen tree and devouring the half-cooked meat with thegusto of those around him. Indeed he and Otto had eaten many a time in asimilar style, and few persons find difficulty in making savages ofthemselves in every respect, whenever the inclination so to do takespossession of them.

The boys would have relished double the amount of food, but enough hadbeen given to remove all discomfort, and they would have found it hardto describe the thorough enjoyment the lunch imparted.

But now that the troublesome question was answered, the thought of theyouths naturally turned to the immediate future. Had these Indiansformed any purpose respecting their prisoners? If so, what was it likelyto be? Did they intend to kill them with rifle, tomahawk, or knife? Orwould they be taken away captives? Did the red men belong to the Osagetribe of Indians, or was theirs some fiercer or milder totem from adistant part of the country?

It is a fact that among many of the early settlements in Missouri andother Western States, the warriors who were occasionally encountered inthe forests, or who fired from the cover of the trees, belonged totribes whose hunting-grounds were many leagues away. They were notShawanoe, Huron, Pottawatomie, Osage, Miami, Delaware, Illinois,Kickapoo, or Winnebago. Sometimes a veteran trapper recognized the dressand general appearance that he had noted among the red men to thenorthward, and far beyond the Assiniboine; others who had venturedhundreds of miles to the westward, remembered exchanging shots withsimilar dusky warriors on the slopes of the Rocky Mountains.

Indeed it cannot be questioned that the American race not only producedwarriors, orators, and magnificent leaders, but it had its travelers andexplorers—the name being accepted in its restricted meaning.

More than once Jack had wondered whether this party had not come from along distance in the interior, perhaps hundreds of miles, and thathaving completed the errand on which they had journeyed so far, were nowon their return.

"If this is so," he said to Otto, when they observed the party makingpreparations to leave, "they will take us on a good long march."

"I dinks maybe dey knocks us in the head, so as not to makes us feel badapout going away from home."

Further conversation was checked by some minutes of bustle and activity.The Indians seemed to have come very suddenly to the conclusion todepart, and the boys naturally shared the excitement; but possibly theirdismay can be imagined, when it became apparent that the red menintended to divide into two parties, and that as a consequence the boyswould have to part company, and who shall say whether it was to be for afew days, a few years, or forever?

CHAPTER V.

JOURNEYING SOUTHWARD.

It never occurred to Jack and Otto that their captors meant to separateuntil the division actually took place. As if by a generalunderstanding, one half of the party moved to the right, and the restpartly to the left, the course of the former being due west, and of thelatter directly south.

"Halloo, Otto!" called Jack, turning his head and stopping among themembers of his own division who were moving off; "they're going to partcompany."

"Dot is vot it looks like; but I guess it ain't going to be for onegreat vile. Good-by!"

Jack was unwilling to part with his friend in this abrupt fashion, andhe started toward him with a view of shaking his hand. He did not dreamthat his movement would awaken the least opposition; but he presumed toomuch on the indulgence of the red men, for, before he could take threesteps, one of the warriors caught his arm, and, with a violent wrench,flung him in the opposite direction.

It required the utmost effort of Jack to save himself from falling, anda stinging pain ran through his shoulder. His hot Kentucky blood wasaflame, and the instant he could poise his body he drew his knife andrushed upon the Indian with the fury of a tiger.

"I'll show you that you can't treat me that way!" he exclaimed.

The warrior whom he was about to assail faced him in a crouchingposture, both hands resting on his knees, while his ugly countenance wasbisected by a tantalizing grin which showed the molars of both jaws. Hisblack eyes gleamed like those of a rattlesnake, and his whole attitudeand manner showed that he was seeking to goad the lad to attack him.

The impetus was not needed. Jack Carleton had no thought of hesitation,though even in his rage he felt that there was scarcely a shadow of hopethat he would escape with his life from such an encounter.

The moment Jack was close enough he bounded forward and made a sweepingblow, with the knife gripped in his right hand. Had the weapon struckwhere it was aimed, there would have been one Indian less before thespectators could have realized what had taken place. The other warriorswere looking upon the picture as though in doubt of what was coming.Among those watching the scene was Otto Relstaub, whose eyes wereriveted on his friend. The thrilling encounter had opened so suddenlythat he fairly held his breath, certain that Jack would not live twominutes longer.

But the knife of the boy missed its mark altogether. The keen pointwhizzed through empty air, the spiteful force of the blow turning thelad half way around on his feet, and leaving him utterly at the mercy ofthe warrior; the latter could have smitten him to the earth with thesuddenness of the lightning stroke.

But the Indian did not so much as draw his weapon. With a quicknesswhich the eye could scarcely follow, he snatched the wrist of the boy'shand and bent it back with such force that poor Jack was glad to let theweapon fall to the ground. He was discomfited and helpless.

Jack folded his arms, so as to bring the injured wrist against his leftside and under his elbow. Pressing it close to his body, he shut hiswhite lips and forced back the cry that struggled for utterance.

With wonderful coolness the triumphant red man stooped to the ground,picked up the hunting-knife, and with the same expanse of grin,presented it to Jack, the handle toward him.

"Takes him, Jack!" called out Otto, who was probably the most astoundedspectator of the scene; "but don't try to kills him ag'in."

Young Carleton for a moment was as bewildered as a child; but his goodsense rapidly returned, and, with a smile in answer to that of theIndian, he accepted the weapon and shoved it back in its place.

Jack was mortified beyond expression at the sorry show he had made. Hehad cut a ridiculous figure, and no wonder a general smile lighted upthe faces of the red men gathered around.

But the youth made a mistake when he believed he had lowered himself inthe eyes of his captors. The American race (like all others) admire truecourage and pluck, even though judgment may be lacking, and thedauntless style in which the young captive attacked his tormentor, whenthere was no prospect of success, awoke a responsive chord in the breastof all. Had Jack shown himself a coward, they might have treated him asthey often did such captives; but the brave young fellow was in nodanger, at least for the present.

The occurrence took but a fraction of the time that has been occupied inthe telling, and Jack was only given opportunity to replace the knife,when his captors, arranging themselves so as to surround him, resumedtheir march to the westward. Precisely at the same instant the otherhalf of the company did the same in the other direction, and once moreOtto Relstaub called out:

"Good-by, Jack! good-by to you!"

"Good-by, my friend!" shouted Jack, his heart filled with a deepmisgiving over the singular event. "Keep up a good heart, though there'sno telling whether we shall ever meet again."

"If I get home before you gets dere I will tell Colonel Martin, andwe'll follow you to the Rocky Mountains——"

Even in that serious moment Jack Carleton broke into laughter when hesaw that the usual fortune of Otto clung to him. His foot caught insome obstruction, and while in the act of waving his hand and exchanginggreetings with his friend, he stumbled forward and went down. Clamberingto his feet he turned to complete his words, but his captors seemed tohave lost patience on account of the delay. One seized his right andanother his left arm and began walking him rapidly off. The last sightwhich Jack gained of the fellow showed him between two Indians, who werehurrying him along with such vigor that his head rose and sank with eachunwilling footstep, as though he was alternately lifted from and presseddown to the ground. A few seconds later and the intervening trees hidhim from sight.

It would have been difficult for Jack Carleton to describe his variedemotions when forced to admit the fact that he was an actual prisoneramong a band of wandering Indians. The memorable journey from Kentuckyinto Louisiana had been attended by many stirring experiences, and morethan once every avenue of escape seemed to be closed, but, now for thefirst time, he found himself a captive within a few miles of his ownhome.

Whither would these red men take him? Did they mean to hold him apermanent captive, or, as is often the case with their race, would theyput him to torture and finally to death? The settlements of Kentucky andOhio were crimsoned with the deeds of the red men, and, though sometribes were less warlike than others, it was not to be supposed that anyof them were distinguished for mercy and forbearance.

"If Colonel Martin only knew this," thought Jack, while trampingforward, "it wouldn't take him long to gather the men together, and theywould come down on these folks like a whirlwind; but Otto and I may begone for weeks before any one will suspect we are in trouble. Even thenthey won't know what to do. No, sir," added Jack, compressing his lips,"whatever is done must be done by myself, and, with the help of heaven,I shall part company with these red men just as soon as the chancepresents itself."

Any one in the situation of Jack Carleton cannot lack for themes onwhich to employ his brain. It is safe to assert that the boy did morethinking while on that eventful march than he had done in the same spaceof time for years.

It may be said that while the party were on the march, and the warriorswere together, it was utterly out of the question for Jack to leaveagainst their will. Three strode along in front, while two were in therear. Every one was fleeter of foot than he, and they had six rifles intheir possession, while he had none at all. Could he secure severalhundred yards' start, they would have no difficulty in trailing andrunning him down, for the sky was clear, the sun bright, and thefootprints of the boy would show as distinctly to the keen eyes of thered men as though made in the dust of the highway.

No, he must wait for the darkness of the night, when a few yards betweenhim and his enemies would prove like a stone wall; when insidious sleepwould seal the eyes of the dusky barbarians, and he could steal out inthe gloom, leaving them to wait for hours before taking up his trail.

One person was continually in the thoughts of Jack Carleton—Deerfoot."Where is he? Is he days' journey to the south? Is there any hope of himplaying the part of a friend for Otto and me?"

These and similar questions were asked again and again while the youthwas tramping through the wood in the company of his captors, and hisheart sank when his own good sense obliged him to answer each one in themost unsatisfactory manner.

He recalled that Deerfoot parted with them only a few days before in amanner which implied that considerable time must pass before they wouldsee each other again. The young Shawanoe could not suspect that when hisfriends reached home, they would immediately proceed to get intotrouble, as they had just done.

"No," added Jack, with a sigh, "from what I know and have heard ofDeerfoot, he has a wonderful way of turning up when wanted, but it's nouse to look for him in this case."

The conclusion of the boy was a sensible one, and he resolutely facedthe situation as it presented itself to him. It was most serious, and itmay be said that every passing hour rendered it more so, for he wasmoving away from home, and thereby increasing the difficulties ofreturning thither, should it become his good fortune to gain theopportunity to do so.

The warriors who were walking in front, followed the usual custom oftheir people—that is, they proceeded in Indian file, so that the boywas given a fair view only of the one immediately before him—theglimpses of the others being fragmentary. Glancing behind, he observedthe same fact, so that the entire party made but the single trail, forJack himself was wise enough to fall in with their custom.

"It may be," he muttered, after traveling several miles in silence,"that they live hundreds of miles off and that I won't have a chance toleave them for weeks or months or—years," he added in a hushed voice,and with an additional heart-throb, "but I shall never be reconciled tolive in the wigwams of the red men."

It seemed curious to the young captive that a party of friends, like theIndians, should tramp mile after mile as they did without speaking asingle word. Now and then, some one would utter an exclamation whichsounded more like the grunt of a porker than anything else, butfrequently they advanced steadily for an hour or more in perfectsilence.

Sometimes the forest was open and free from undergrowth, then it wascluttered up with running vines which would have annoyed any oneunaccustomed to them, but which proved no obstacle to the Indians. Infact, they walked without showing the least regard to them. Where Jack,if leading, would have lifted his feet, they shoved ahead and withouteffort snapped and turned them aside as though they were so manycobwebs.

"It all comes from training," concluded our friend, as he attempted tocatch a switch which swung back and struck him across the face; "if Iwas alone, it would take me twice as long as it takes them, and then Iwould fare worse than they do."

All at once, they came upon a creek. It was barely twenty feet in width,but muddy, swift and deep. There was something impressive in the speedwith which the volume of water rushed through the woods, as if fleeingin a panic from some peril at its heels.

The entire party came to a halt, ranging themselves along the bank andsurveying the turbid torrents, as though they wished to talk with eachother upon the best method of placing themselves on the other side.

"I hope they won't swim it," Jack said to himself, "for their peoplemake no allowance for those that are not as skillful as they, and I willget into trouble."

CHAPTER VI.

AN INVOLUNTARY BATH.

It was not to be supposed that a party of Indians could be checked by astream of water. If necessary they could swim across, but, inasmuch asthe party separated, and while several went up, the rest walked down thestream, it was evident they were searching for a more suitable spot inwhich to make the passage.

Jack Carleton followed the larger party, which had gone only a few rodswhen a whoop from the others made known they had found what was wanted.The rest immediately turned around and joined them.

Jack saw at once that the means were provided for passing over dry shod.A tree, some six or eight inches in diameter, lay with the butt on oneshore and the upper portion on the opposite bank. A glance showed thatit had been felled by the axe of some pioneer, who probably thus formeda bridge for himself and friends. The limbs had been trimmed away, andthe abraded bark proved that it had served a similar purpose for manywild beasts in passing to and fro. The faded color of the gashes in thetrunk showed that a long time had passed since the bridge was made bythe woodman's axe.

Nothing better could be required, and several grunts of satisfactionescaped the warriors during the minute they stood together viewing thesupport that awaited the pressing of their feet.

Jack Carleton stepped forward, but one of the Indians grasped his armand drew him back so violently as almost to throw him to the ground. Theboy looked wonderingly in his face, and saw that it was aglow withpassion. He shook his head rapidly and spoke fast and furious.

"I think I can guess what you mean," said Jack, stepping back, so as toallow the others to precede him, "and I will now await your commands."

He stood still until three had gone over, when they beckoned him tofollow. Jack had noticed that when the Indians were walking on the log,they were obliged to move carefully, for their foothold was narrow andthe swift running current was apt to make one dizzy. The lad, however,stepped forward without hesitation and advanced slowly but withcertainty.

The three warriors, who stood facing him on the shore, showed that likeDeerfoot the Shawanoe, they possessed a certain vein of waggery, for atthe moment Jack was over the middle of the stream, one of them stooped,and, grasping the head of the trunk, moved it quickly fully a couple offeet to the right, all three bursting into an audible snicker at thesame moment. The lad was looking downward, meanwhile stepping carefully,when he glanced across to learn the meaning of the action, the stoopingIndian being in his field of vision.

Jack understood the trick, but he was without the means of defeating it.He stooped quickly with the intention of grasping the support with bothhands, but before he could do so, he lost his balance, flung his armsaloft, and down he went with a loud splash that sent the spray flying inall directions.

No audience of countrymen ever laughed more heartily at the ancientjokes of a clown than did the five Indians when the boy disappearedunder the water, his eyes staring with the shock of affright which camewith his sudden contact with the current.

Jack was a capital swimmer, and he was satisfied there was no wish todrown him; but he had scarcely passed below the surface, when itoccurred to him that there was a possibility of turning the jest uponhis captors. The water was very deep, and he kept sinking until his feetsoftly touched the bottom. As he gave himself the slight impulse whichsent him upward again, he not only swam swiftly with the rapid current,but moved as close to shore as possible, and began creeping up the sideof the bank.

In doing this, he over-estimated his own strength. It took him a longertime to reach the surface than he calculated upon, and he narrowlyescaped strangling; but he resolutely held out to the last second.

At the moment the rushing waters seemed to roar through his brain, hiscrown cleft the surface, and he drew a deep inspiration of the blessedair; but, even in that trying moment, he kept his self-possession, andthe breath was taken so softly that no ear beside his own knew it.

He had emerged close to shore and directly under some overhanging brush,which was not so dense as he could wish, since he was able to see thewarriors standing on the land and looking for him. It followed,therefore, that if they should scrutinize the bank very closely theywould discover him; but the boy's hope lay in their lack of suspicionthat such an artifice was in his mind.

Several circ*mstances united to help the youth; the water was roiled, ashas already been said, while the friction of the swift current againstthe shore made a noise which overcame the slight ripple caused by hisown movements. Only his nose and eyes were kept above the surface, andthe shrubbery which inclosed them made a tolerable screen, though lesseffective than he desired.

Jack had landed, as may be said, a dozen yards below the log from whichhe had been thrown and on the side from which he set out, consequentlyhe was opposite the five Indians who stood on the shore. He was led todo this from a natural desire to get as far away as he could from hiscaptors, but it was a mistake on his part, for had he crawled under theother bank he would have been hidden altogether from the sight of theIndians.

Holding to a wire-like root with his left hand, he swung around so as toface up stream, and, through the slight spaces in the shrubbery kept hiseyes fixed intently on the brawny red men.

A Narrow Escape.

Very soon the warriors looked at each other, and talked rapidly and withgrowing excitement. There could be no doubt they were discussing theunexpected shape matters had taken; the joke played on their captive hadproven a very serious matter to him. It must have been that thepale-faced youth was unable to swim and was drowned. The white warriorwas a pappoose.

"By and by they will make search for me," was the thought of JackCarleton, still retaining his hold, "and then will come the tug of war.It won't be the live boy they'll expect to find, but his dead body,bobbing up and down and back and forth, and yet I don't see why theywill care to hunt me up."

Whatever might be the issue, Jack was warranted in feeling hopeful, forhe was sure the incident had taken a turn entirely unexpected to thewarriors.

"If I had only floated a little further down stream," he thought morethan once, noticing a sharp bend made by the current, "I would have beenin a good deal better situation than this, for I would have been out oftheir sight altogether."

Several times he was on the point of letting go and dropping furtherdown, but he dreaded some mistake which would draw attention to thespot. If he should try to swim under the surface, he might be forced tocome up too soon, or might strike some obstruction in the stream thatwould fling him over as though he was a porpoise. It was the fear of acatastrophe of this nature which held him where he was, while he peeredthrough the shrubbery like some wild animal glaring out from his covertupon his enemies.

The face of every Indian was in sight, and he studied the expression ofeach broad, coppery countenance. He knew they were talking by themovements of the thin lips, and, despite the noise of the rushingstream, he heard one of them grunt several times. This particularwarrior was shorter and more solidly built than the rest, and appearedto be some kind of a leader, for he had the most to say, and the boynoticed, while on the march, that he directed the actions of the rest.

This Indian, as he stood, held his rifle in his right hand, while thethumb of his left was hooked over the belt at his waist, which supportedhis knife and tomahawk. His stomach protruded somewhat, and, when hespoke in his sententious manner, the belt would rise and sink in aspasmodic fashion which kept time with his words.

Jack kept close watch of the black eyes, which, like those ofprofessional hunters and scouts, were never at rest. They flitted hitherand thither, up and down stream and even to the rear, as though dangerwere apprehended from that direction.

What the boy was expecting and dreading was a search on the part of theIndians. None could know better than they how brief a time is requiredfor a person to drown, and they were not long in arriving at theconclusion that the boy either was dead, or had left the stream at apoint below. Three savages walked hastily over the creek on the log andbegan moving along shore, their serpent-like eyes scanning every foot ofland and water that came in their field of vision. At the same time, theother two did the same from the opposite shore, and Jack Carleton knewthat the crisis had come.

He felt quite secure against being seen by the two who were travelingtogether, for he was able to dispose of the undergrowth so as toincrease its usefulness. While one hand held fast to the tough root, hesoftly drew down the bush with the other, so that it interposed betweenhim and the couple who were held in such dread. If the others shouldstep to the edge of the stream and part the bushes, it would be all upwith the frightened lad.

The necessities of the case forced Jack to raise his head until bothears were above the surface, and thus, while he employed his eyes tofollow the movements of the couple, he sought to use his ears todiscover the approach of the trio, though the rushing torrent forbadefull success in that respect.

The two warriors were in plain sight as they slowly picked their waydownward. Jack saw the upper parts of their bodies, and his heartthrobbed faster when they faced about and came down to the edge of thewater. However, they were still several yards above him, so that he wasquite certain they did not suspect his hiding-place. When they haltedand leaned over the stream, the fugitive gave no thought to those whowere undoubtedly much closer, but sank until only forehead, eyes andnose were in the air, while the scanty bush was drawn still closer tohis face.

All at once, Jack's heart seemed to stand still; he saw that one of theIndians was looking straight at the spot where he was in hiding. Theblack orbs were centered upon him with such an inquiring expression,that he was sure he had been discovered. All hope was gone, until amoment after he observed that the savage was peering at the undergrowthbelow him, as though suspicious of everything which could afford anysort of a hiding-place.

"He didn't see me after all," was the conclusion of the delighted boy,"and now if the others let me alone, I shall have a chance to give themthe slip."

Again the waists and shoulders of the two were observed moving slowlyamong the trees and undergrowth, until they passed out of sight, aconsiderable distance below the crouching fugitive. The relief of thelatter was unspeakable, though he could not forget that other foes werealso to be avoided.

But minute after minute passed, and still Jack saw and heard nothing ofthe red men. With each passing minute his hopes rose, until at the endof half an hour, he felt that his safety was well nigh secured.

"They have concluded I was drowned and my body is not likely to come tothe surface for some time—anyway not until it is a long way from thisspot. If they don't return, I'm safe."

But a thrill of alarm passed through him more than once, when herecalled that the strategy he had employed was of such a simple naturethat it ought to suggest itself to the red men. If such was the casethey would be certain to return to the fallen tree, renew their search,and prosecute it with greater care.

It was the dread of the latter which led Jack to creep carefully out ofthe stream, after he had been in hiding perhaps half an hour. Of coursehis clothing was saturated, and he had become chilled from his longsubmersion, so that his teeth rattled, and he trembled in every limb.Extended flat on the ground, he crawled with the utmost care until acouple of rods from the water. Then he stopped and listened. He was sofar from the stream that its noise did not prevent him detecting anyslight noise which might have been made by some other cause, but heheard nothing at all.

There was still considerable undergrowth around him, so that he feltscreened from the observation of any other Indians wandering in thevicinity.

"They thought they were very cunning," muttered Jack, with a chuckle,"when they tumbled me into the water, but I played a trick on them worthtwo of their kind. I only wish there was some way of letting them knowhow completely I have outwitted them——"

A cold shiver passed down the spine of Jack Carleton, when he distinctlyheard a guttural, grunting laugh behind him. Turning like a flash, hesaw the five Indian warriors from whom, up to that moment, he hadbelieved he was free, standing within a rod, and all grinning to anextent that seemed to take the corners of their mouths around to theirears.

The truth broke upon Jack: the red men had never lost sight of him,except for the moment he was under the water. They knew where he waswhen he supposed himself invisible, and they had been amusing themselvesat his expense.

CHAPTER VII.

TWO VISITORS.

On the evening succeeding the departure of Jack Carleton and OttoRelstaub from the little settlement of Martinsville, the widowed motherof Jack was seated by her fireside engaged in knitting. The night wascold, and the huge sticks of wood were roaring and crackling in thebroad fireplace, and throwing a cheerful glow and warmth through theroom. The tallow candle on the mantel had not been lit, for there was noneed of it, and, despite the loneliness and poverty of the sad-facedwoman, there was an air of neatness and comfort about her home whichwould have tempted any one who could look through the narrow window intothe homely, old-fashioned apartment.

The deft fingers flew back and forth as regularly as the most delicatemachinery, until all at once the lady stopped and allowed her hands torest in her lap. At the same moment a sigh escaped her, and she lookedinto the glowing embers.

It was not hard to guess where her thoughts were; they were with thatonly child who had gone forth in the woods to help the German lad lookfor the missing horse. Mrs. Carleton smiled as she reflected upon acertain absurdity which marked the whole business, for, look at it asshe chose, there was something grotesque in the project of two youthssetting out to hunt for a horse that had been wandering for days in alimitless wood. But the smile quickly gave way to the serious expressionwhich not often left the face of the mother since that awful night whenher husband was stricken down by the fierce red men of Kentucky.

"I trust God will not forget my boy," were the almost inaudible wordsthat came to her lips. "He has wonderfully preserved him through manyperils, and my heart misgives me now that I allowed him to go from undermy roof."

Just then the latch-string was spitefully pulled, the door was pushedinward, and Jacob Relstaub entered. The angry man was short of stature,clumsily dressed, and the only weapon he carried was a heavy, knottedcane, if that may be termed such, which was his companion when movingabout the sparse settlement. It has already been said that he wasparsimonious, cross-grained, and cruel-hearted, and he had been inspecially ill-temper since the return of his boy without the horse uponwhich so much value was set.

The door swung to of itself, and the German, stopping short in themiddle of the room, banged his cane upon the floor, and, lookingsavagely at the quiet lady who had nodded and bidden him good evening,demanded:

"Vere is mine poy, Otto?"

"Don't you know?" asked the widow in return, with a tone of surprise.

"No, I does not; he says he goes off mit your poy, but dey bothlies—don't it?"

"My boy never tells a falsehood," was the quiet response of Mrs.Carleton, whose pale cheek slightly flushed. "Your Otto told the truthas you well know. Not only that, but he only obeyed you when he went outin the woods to run into all kinds of danger in search of an animalwhich I do not believe can possibly be found."

"All poys ish bad," said the visitor with an impatient sniff, as he tookoff his cap and slouched to a chair on the opposite side of the fire."Your poy ish badder dan any oder poy; mine Otto is lazy, and if hedoesn't pring pack dot horse I vill pounds him till he don't live."

"He may never come back," said the lady in a low, impressive voicewhich would have moved anyone else, but it was lost on the boorishvisitor.

"Hoof! No fear of dot; he alvays comes back ven ve doesn't vant him tocome back."

"Well," said Mrs. Carleton with a sigh, "I am sorry I let Jack go, forif he had insisted on staying home your boy would have done the same,though if I was in Otto's place I would consider the woods, with alltheir dangers and sufferings, preferable to living with a parent who isas unfeeling as you."

Jacob Relstaub had both of his horny hands folded over the top of hisheavy cane, which rested on the floor between his large shoes, while hiscap, somewhat resembling the peaked head-gear of his boy, lay besidehim. His broad, ill-favored countenance was darkened by a frown, and itwas easy for the lady to see that the fellow still doubted her word. Hismanner of looking about the large room, and a habit of listeningintently, as though he expected to bear approaching footsteps, showedthat he suspected Otto was hiding somewhere in the cabin. Mrs. Carletonunderstood his feelings and she was annoyed to anger, for her sensitivenature felt the insult keenly. Beside, she despised the coarse nature ofthe man who seemed so totally lacking in humanity.

The lady was on the point of reproving him with sharp words, when bothwere astonished by a gentle knock on the door, such a hail beingcontrary to all the rules of the frontier, when the latch-string is notdrawn in. Both looked quickly toward the entrance, and the lady raisedher voice and said:

"The latch-string is out!"

The words were yet on her lips when it was pulled, and the door swunginward.

The firelight fell upon the figure of an Indian warrior, who stopped onthe threshold as if he doubted whether he would be welcome when thosewithin saw him. As he stood with the blank darkness behind him and thecrimson glow from the burning logs lighting up the front of his body, heformed a most striking picture.

He was the ideal of symmetry and manly beauty—one of those productionsof the American race which are very rare, but which, when seen, are thenearest approach to physical and mental perfection that is ever attainedin this world. He was about five feet ten inches in height, and withbody and limbs in as perfect proportion as the chisel of Phidias evercarved from marble. Even his long, black hair, which hung luxuriantlyand loosely about his shoulders, was of softer texture than is the rulewith his people. Several stained eagle feathers slanted upward andoutward from the crown, and a double row of brilliant beads encircledhis neck. A fine gold bracelet clasped his left wrist, and the deer-skinhunting shirt and leggings were clean, and of the finest possible make.They retained their dull, yellow hue, but the girdle which clasped hisbody at the waist was of a red color, so bright that it seemed likely toattract dangerous attention in the forest. The leggings were fringed,and the delicate moccasins were also ornamented with colored beads. Theheavy blanket which he carried during severe weather was lacking, for itwould have been only an encumbrance when the climate was mild.

Into the girdle were thrust a tomahawk and hunting knife, while a longbow was carried in his right hand, and a quiver full of arrows restedbehind his right shoulder, where they could be snatched forth on theinstant. The youthful warrior carried no firearms, for he depended aloneon the primitive weapons which his people had used for centuries.

Splendid as were the frame and limbs of the youth, the greatestattraction lay in his countenance. His features were classical in theirregularity, excepting the nose, which was just enough aquiline to givecharacter to his face, and take away the femininity which otherwisemight cling to it.

When he smiled in his faint, shadowy fashion, his teeth were seen to besmall, white, regular, and without the slightest defect, while thelustrous black eyes glowed with light and feeling. Having closed thedoor behind him, he still hesitated to advance until assured he waswelcome.

Although Mrs. Carleton had never seen him before, she was certain of hisidentity, and, rising from her seat, she asked:

"Are you Deerfoot the Shawanoe?"

He smiled and inclined his head.

"You are the friend of my boy, and of Otto, the son of Mr. Relstaub.There is no one in the world who could be more welcome than you. Comeforward and take a seat nearer the fire."

The dusky countenance flushed with pleasure, for the words were warmerthan he was accustomed to hear.

Deerfoot advanced a couple of steps, and, reaching over, drew the rudestool to him. His diffidence would not allow him to go very near theblaze.

When Jacob Relstaub heard the name pronounced, he uttered an angry sniffand banged his cane upon the floor. He said nothing; but he detested thehandsome Indian youth, whom he had driven from his door when he askedfor shelter, and he knew he had been the companion of his boy on thestirring journey from Kentucky to Louisiana. It mattered not that themasterful woodcraft of the dusky friend had saved the life of OttoRelstaub; all that the German remembered was that the valuable horse waslost, and he blamed this Indian for it, as he censured Jack Carleton forthe same misfortune. The man, however, said nothing for a few minutes.

It was manifest from the manner of Deerfoot that he was disappointedbecause he did not meet Jack Carleton. He cast but a single glancearound the apartment, which showed him his young friend was not present;then, as he gently seated himself, he looked into the pale face of thewidow and said:

"Deerfoot sees not his brother."

"No; Jack and Otto set out on a long hunt this morning. They may be backin a few days and perhaps not for a fortnight."

"Have they gone to look for the horse that was lost?"

"Yes," answered the lady, with a smile; "I am ashamed to say they have;but I ask your pardon; have you had supper? Will you not permit me togive you to eat?"

She was about to rise when Deerfoot, who was resting his bow on thefloor, while he grasped the center as though it was a cane, motionedwith his left hand for her to retain her seat.

"The mother of my friend is good and kind, but Deerfoot cannot eat."

He appeared to be on the point of saying something more, but restrainedhimself. The mother was quick to perceive it, and a pang of dreadstirred her heart.

"What were you about to say?" she asked, in her abrupt fashion,suspending the knitting which she was in the very act of resuming.

Deerfoot was too truthful to deceive her outright; but it is fair topresume he did not say all that was in his thoughts.

"Deerfoot is sorry his brothers have gone to look for the horse."

"Why?" quickly asked the mother.

"They cannot find him."

"Vy don't they finds him?" asked Jacob Relstaub, banging his cane againand glaring fiercely at the youth, as though ready to spring upon him.

Deerfoot looked calmly in the forbidding countenance, and asked, moredirectly than was his custom:

"Are you the father of my brother, Otto?"

"Yaw; of course I ish. He is one pad poy, as you ish de wust Injin doteffer vasn't."

Without the least visible excitement, and in the same deliberatemonotone, Deerfoot still looking him straight in the face:

"The father of Otto is a dog; he has no heart. The Great Spirit hideshis face with shame when he looks upon him."

"Vat!" roared Jacob, half rising to his chair and grasping his knobbycane with both hands, while he trembled with rage. "You don't speak dotvays to me and I breaks your head."

He suddenly straightened up, and all aglow with fury advanced uponDeerfoot, who placed his left hand on his knife, quietly arose and facedhim, without speaking.

CHAPTER VIII.

A SURPRISE.

Jacob Relstaub was so accustomed to the undisturbed abuse of his sonthat he was struck almost speechless by the calm defiance of the Indianyouth. When he saw the latter place his hand on the knife at his girdle,the German could not fail to know its meaning. He stopped short with hiscane half raised and glared savagely at Deerfoot.

"You means to kills me, eh, don't it? Yaw,—I sees,—I sees!"

And shaking his head very fast, and muttering some vigorous words in hisown language, he stamped towards the door, swung it open and passed outin the darkness. Deerfoot stood motionless, looking in the directionwhence he had vanished, and then, without a word, sat down on the rudechair and looked toward Mrs. Carleton, seated as she was near the fire.

The good lady was terrified, but the incident was so brief that it wasover before she fairly understood its full meaning and the ill-naturedcaller was gone.

"He is such a bad-tempered man that I'm afraid he will hurt you forthis," said she, stepping hastily to the door, where she drew in thelatch-string, thus locking the humble cabin against intruders. When shesat down, with her scared look and her words of misgiving on her lips,Deerfoot looked from the crackling fire into her countenance. As theyellow glow lit up his handsome features, they showed the faintestpossible smile, which vanished the same moment it appeared. Thematchless redskin must have appreciated the grim humor involved in thethought of his feeling any fear of the curmudgeon who had just gone.

Previous to that the young Shawanoe had glanced around the cabin, andlike another Houdin, impressed every point in his memory. He noted thenarrow windows through which a hostile shot could be fired from theoutside. He did not believe the late visitor would proceed to thatlength, but he shifted his seat to a point several feet away, where, ifRelstaub relied on his previous knowledge for his aim, no possible harmcould be done.

Deerfoot made his change in such a quiet fashion, that his hostess hadnot the slightest suspicion of its meaning. She saw that he had simplymoved closer to the fire. The space between her own chair and that ofthe visitor was such that there was no call for her to change herlocation: had there been the slightest, Deerfoot would not havepermitted her to wait.

"My brother will hurt no one," said he in his quiet fashion: "he is abad man; he has a good boy, Otto; Deerfoot calls him his brother, andwill do much for him; but Deerfoot does not like his father."

"I was so afraid he would strike you with his cane," said the lady,still trembling over the remembrance, "and then you would have used yourknife."

The smile was more pronounced than before, but the words were scarcelyaudible.

"He could not hurt Deerfoot and Deerfoot would not hurt him."

The lady fully understood his meaning, and it lifted a great fear fromher heart that Jacob Relstaub would return, demand admittance, andattack her guest. True, he might do so, but she saw that in such anevent the results would be farcical rather than tragical.

Deerfoot did not care to give any further thought to the despicable man.He had come to the settlement to visit Jack Carleton and Otto Relstaub,and found they were absent on a singular hunt for the horse that hadbeen missing fully a week. His interest lay in them, and especially inJack. He had heard most of the facts from the mother, but he nowquestioned her further in his gentle way until not a particle ofinformation was left for her to give.

The substance of that information has already been told the reader,—itbeing nothing more than the statement of their departure early thatmorning. The startling events which followed could not be suspected bythe parent, who sat so quietly knitting and talking with the remarkableIndian youth on the other side of her hearthstone, as ignorant as she ofthe alarming situation in which both were placed.

But while so quiet in his demeanor, the wonderful brain of the youth wasalways busy during his waking hours. He could not feel that there wascause for fear on account of his friends, for, as has already beenshown, that portion of the enormous territory of Louisiana was peopledby Indians much less vicious in their hatred than were those who madeKentucky their hunting-ground. A fierce party of Shawanoes had followedthe little party across the Mississippi the previous week, and they keptmatters moving in a very lively manner, as the reader learned long ago;but it was not to be supposed that any of those daring and skillfulwarriors were in the neighborhood, for it was not conceivable that acause existed for their presence.

But a singular distrust took possession of Deerfoot. He could notaccount for it, except as he accounted for all inexplainable things, asbeing the direct prompting of the Great Spirit. Many a time theinstinctive belief had come over him, and he had never failed to followits guidance; the result in each instance proved that he did right, andhe resolved to do the same in the present case, though it will be seenthat he could take no real step forward until the coming of daylight.

"You will stay here until morning," said Mrs. Carleton, looking intothe face of her visitor and speaking as though the matter was not at allin the nature of a question.

"Deerfoot may stay awhile, though he would rather sleep in the woods,where he can breathe the cool, pure air, and look at the stars, andlisten to the whispers of the Great Spirit who watches over him when heis asleep or awake."

"You can sleep on Jack's bed, and he will be pleased, when he comeshome, to learn that you did so, though he will be sorry that he was nothere to make you welcome."

The Indian shook his head. He had no wish to lie on any such couch, andhe had not done so since he was wounded and a prisoner in the hands ofthe white people.

"Deerfoot will sit here and read until he becomes weary; then he willlie on the floor; and when he awakes he will seek his brothers who arehunting for the horse that has long been lost."

Mrs. Carleton had been told by Jack how skillfully Deerfoot could readand write, and she now ventured the hope that he would use the Biblewhich lay on the table at the side of the cabin. She was on the pointof rising to get it for him, when he motioned her to keep her seat.

"Deerfoot has his Bible with him."

And then he drew the tiny volume with its wooden covers from theinterior pocket of his hunting-shirt, and shifted his position so thathis back was turned toward the fire, whose glow passed over hisshoulders and fell upon the printed page. This gave him all the light heneeded, and, after rustling the leaves for a moment, he began, in hislow, sweet monotone.

As may be supposed, he selected one of the chapters from Revelation,overflowing as it does with the most impressive grandeur andawe-inspiring glimpse of the mysterious life from whose portals no humanbeing has ever turned back to whisper to the vast procession waiting tofollow in his footsteps.

Mrs. Carleton saw that Deerfoot did not like her words of compliment andshe therefore refrained. When he had finished, he closed the book andlaid it away where he always carried it, and then the conversation wenton in the same vein as before.

But the hour was later than that to which the good lady was accustomed,and, despite the singular interest of the interview, she began to feel aslight drowsiness. When she placed her hand over her mouth and yawned,Deerfoot asked that she should retire. She consented, and bade himgood-night and withdrew.

He sat motionless until he was alone, when he once more drew out hisBible and resumed reading. The fire having smoldered, he stirred thesticks, turning the unburned ends among the coals, so that in a fewmoments the small room was filled with a brighter illumination thanbefore. Leaning backward with the book in front of his face and hisshapely legs extended in front, he studied with an interest moreabsorbing than was ever felt by the most devout novel reader. He seemedto lose all consciousness of time and place, and pored over the volumewhich to him was more precious than any treasure it is possible for themind to conceive.

By-and-by the fire burned low again and the light grew dim. Though theyouth might have continued the perusal much longer, he finally ceasedand put the book away for the night. Then, folding his arms, he lookedinto the smoldering embers before him. Every one knows how such a scenefeeds the fancy and how imagination will run riot, while sitting alonelate at night, with the wind moaning outside, while he watches thecurious, grotesque, and endless procession of figures which take shapeand action before him. No one but Deerfoot himself could tell whatthoughts took shape in his brain, but they must have been of amelancholy, serious nature, for he drew a deep sigh, muttered a fewwords in prayer, and then deliberately lay down in the middle of thefloor. He lay on his side, with his arm doubled under his head for apillow, but had nothing but the hard planking beneath and nothing excepthis own clothing above.

Deerfoot required little sleep, and within less than two hours after hehad lain down, he opened his eyes and assumed the sitting position. Thefire had burned so low that only a slight glow filled a part of theroom, and he looked like some odd shadow, when he stepped silentlyforward and stirred the embers until they once more lit up theapartment. It was not yet morning, but he had concluded to wait nolonger. He therefore picked up his bow and then, without making theleast noise, opened and closed the door behind him.

The young Shawanoe stood for a moment when he found himself in the clearair on the outside. It was a bright starlit night, and, when he glancedreverently upward at the thousands of blazing orbs, he saw that it stilllacked two hours of daylight. The rude cabins were dimly outlined, asthey faced each other in two irregular rows, those only which were thefurthest away being invisible. All were dark and silent excepting one.He noticed the gleam of light from the window, and thought it likelythat some one was watching by the bed of sickness; but the thought hadhardly come to him when he recalled that it was the cabin of the GermanRelstaub, who had left him in such a rage.

Deerfoot was still in front of the house of his friend, when the door ofthe cabin opened and the short, sturdy figure of Jacob Relstaub wasoutlined against the blazing fire and candle-light behind him. The truthwas, he was so angered he could not sleep; he had tossed about until hisrage became ungovernable, when he told his frau that he was going overto the widow Carleton's to chastise the rascally redskin that had daredto insult him to his face. The wife sought to dissuade him, but he wastoo angered to listen to reason; and, ordering her to stay in bed, hedressed, caught up his heavy cane, and plunged from the door of hishome.

Deerfoot drew back until sure he could not be seen, when he calmlyawaited the approach of the irate man. The latter stamped forward,banging his heavy cane on the ground and muttering to himself:

"Yaw, I preaks mine cane his head ofer—he talks to me—he calls me arascal und eferydings vot I vas. I shows him——"

Just then, when he was close to the cabin, a figure emerged from thedarkness, moving as silently as if it was a section of the gloom itself,and advancing straight toward him. It was the execrated young Indian,grasping his long bow in his right hand, and holding his tomahawk in hisleft, with his body bent and his head thrust forward.

"Oh, mine gracious!" gasped Jacob Relstaub, his knees shaking and hisstaff dropping from his trembling hand, "it ish him!"

He managed to twist his body around, so as to face the other way, andthen he broke into a lumbering run for his cabin. He heard the sound ofthe swift moccasins behind him, and he ran as never before. His hat flewoff, and odd quirps and pains developed themselves here and there in hisframe, because of the unusual and violent exercise to which he subjectedhimself; but he kept forward, believing it was his only hope.Fortunately the run was brief, but when he reached the threshold he wasin the last stage of exhaustion. He could not lift his foot high enough,and went sprawling headlong into the room, with a crash that startledhis wife almost out of her senses.

Deerfoot paused a moment surveying the wreck and ruin he had caused, andthen quietly shoved his tomahawk back in place. He had accomplished allhe wished, and was satisfied. His old shadowy smile lingered on his faceas he turned aside, and, making his way between the settlers' cabins,disappeared in the woods.

CHAPTER IX.

BY THE CAMP-FIRE.

Jack Carleton cried in the bitterness of vexation and disappointment.After his daring attempt to get away, and when hope was a-flutter withinhim, he awoke to the fact that his captors were trifling with him. Hesurveyed the array of gleaming visages, and was sure that the leaderindulged in a distinct wink and grotesque grimace, as expressive of hisviews of the situation. Inasmuch as not one of the red men could utter asyllable of English, perhaps it was as well that they should haverecourse to the sign language. Jack himself was humiliated beyondexpression. Finding he was discovered, he had risen to his feet andfaced his captors with the best grace he could, and that, it need not besaid, was scant indeed.

The Indians grinned and grimaced while they walked around the lad, as ifdesirous of surveying him from different points. Jack dashed the tearsfrom his eyes, and, compressing his lips, braved it out. He expectedsome indignity would be offered him, but there was none. This curiousscene lasted only a few minutes, when the Indians gave the youth tounderstand that the journey westward was to be resumed. He was motionedto go forward, and was glad enough to obey, for his saturated clothesand his highly nervous condition set his teeth chattering and his bodyshaking as if with the ague.

The afternoon was well along, and no great distance could be passed overbefore night. Jack dreaded their arrival at the Indian village beforeanother halt. He was hopeful that in the stillness and darkness of nighthe would gain a chance to steal away from his captors, while the chanceof doing so when with the tribe itself would be much more difficult.

In one respect the wish of the youth was gratified. The party trampedalong in Indian file, without the slightest pause, until the darknessbegan stealing among the trees. There was but the single warrior infront, the others following the lad. Suddenly the leader stooped downand paused. He was so close to Jack that evidently he meant to flinghim over his shoulders, and the boy barely escaped such discomfiture.The others grinned again, and then the party appeared to fall apart andtake different positions. Two vanished in the wood, while the othersbegan hastily gathering dead limbs and decayed leaves. It seemed to Jackthat less than three minutes had gone by when he saw the dim outlines ofone of the warriors on his knees, striking the flint and steel, such asthe pioneers, and, indeed, all persons, used in those days. The littlelines of sparks shot back and forth, as they do upon the swiftlyrevolving emery wheel when the metal is pressed against it, and in atwinkling a tiny blaze was creeping among the little pile of leavestoward the top. The twist of flame darted in and out like the crimsontongue of some serpent, until it reached the air above, and in a veryfew minutes a roaring camp fire was under full headway.

Jack saw that it had been kindled against the shaggy bark of an oaktree, which swept upward like a sealed chimney until lost in the gloomabove. The gleam of water a short distance off made known what he hadnot suspected; a stream—only a few inches in depth and breadth—woundby the spot, without giving forth the slightest ripple. Water, it may besaid, is indispensable to such an encampment, and a party of aboriginesscarcely ever halts at night without being near it.

As the glow of the fire spread, it fell upon the figures of thewarriors, who looked grim and uncanny. Jack folded his arms and stood inthe full glow, as though seeking a bath in the firelight. But for hisrecent experience, he might have been tempted to make a dash forliberty; but his clothing was still wet from that furious essay, and hewas clearly of the opinion that the only thing for him to do was to makehis captors believe (if it was possible) that he had given over all hopeof getting away. Could he lull their suspicion, it would be a mostimportant point accomplished; but the youth might well feel misgivingson that point, for it presupposed a stupidity on the part of the Indianscontrary to what he knew concerning them.

It must not be thought that the boy believed he could make the warriorsthink he was content to remain their prisoner; that would have been theheight of absurdity; but he did seek to convince them by his manner thathe had given up the intention of running away, because he knew theattempt must be hopeless. Having failed so completely, he was notfoolish enough to repeat the essay, when he was likely to anger theIndians to that point that they would punish him for it.

It will be understood, therefore, why Jack Carleton remained standingwith folded arms, while his captors were busying themselves around him.He looked at the flames as they crept up against the bark and scorchedthe rough coat of the massive oak, and he noted more than one furtiveglance cast toward him. He pretended to see them not, but stood gloomy,sorrowful, and despairing.

Suddenly the dull crack of a rifle rang out, and Jack started. His firstimpression was that a party of white men or Indians had attacked them,but when he noticed the indifference of those around, he saw hismistake. They did not so much as look to the right or left, nor make anyremark to each other. Evidently they expected something of the kind.

Within the space of five minutes, the two warriors who had left a shorttime before, reappeared. The foremost carried his rifle at a trail andhad no game, but his companion, directly behind him, held by the feet alarge wild gobbler, shot but a short time previous.

Jack Carleton could not but wonder how it was this dusky hunter was ableto secure the bird on such short notice. The turkeys, at the time hestarted to look for them, must have all gone to roost among the trees.The gloom was such that it was almost impossible for the keenest eye todistinguish them. They may have given some evidence of their presence,but Jack was surprised over the success of the red men in obtainingsupper before, as may be said, the fire could be made ready to roast it.

"Otto and I have hunted for hours in Kentucky where the game is asabundant as it is here, and we were not able to gain the first shot atany sort of game. There must be some secret about this performance whichI don't understand, though Deerfoot, with his bow and arrow, neverfailed to meet with the same success."

The American Indian is by no means fastidious in his tastes, and themanner in which they handled the game would hardly have satisfied aparty of modern hunters. Sometimes the red man half cooks his birdwithout bothering himself with plucking out the feathers, and again hedoesn't take the trouble even to scorch his food. In the presentinstance, they ripped off the principal part of the feathers, removedthe interior, and cutting the framework into several sections, laid themdirectly on the coals that were spread out to receive them.

They began the broiling or scorching operation at once, and the smell ofthe burning meat was of the most appetizing nature. Jack caught a sniffand it literally made his "mouth water," for despite his unpleasantsituation, his appetite was such as every person in vigorous health iscertain to feel at regular intervals.

"I wonder whether they mean to slight me," he suddenly asked himselfwith a feeling of dismay; "if they do, I don't know what will become ofme, for I'm sure I never was so a-hungered in all my life."

But I hasten to say that the disaster which the prisoner feared did notcome to him. Although the bird was unusually large, two or three of thewarriors could have devoured it with ease. As it was, therefore, itafforded rather scant rations to the company, but Jack Carleton wasremembered and received a juicy slice of the game, which could not havetasted better had it been hung up in the cold for a week and then cookedby his mother. Ah, what art shall ever furnish a sauce like that ofhunger itself! The meal finished, the party disposed of themselves forthe night. Their red clay pipes, with the long reeds for stems, wereproduced, filled with tobacco and lit from the fire in front of them.The blankets—which were anything but clean—were spread out on theground and their owners assumed all sorts of lazy attitudes, puffedtheir pipes, and occasionally grunted a few words to each other.

As Jack had no blanket of his own he reclined on the leaves, which werecomfortable as he could wish. He took pains to place himself as near thecamp fire as he could bear, so as to show his captors he did not mean toattempt to get away.

Several times during the march and while at supper, Jack heard theleader addressed, as he believed, by name. He could not catch theprecise word, but it sounded, as nearly as he could tell, like"Ogallah," which of itself resembles the name of a tribe of westernIndians.

Jack waited till he had heard it again, and then, from the manner inwhich it was spoken, he was convinced it was the real name of the leaderof the party,—that is as near as he could pronounce it.

By and by there came a lull in the disjointed conversation; the indolentred men were lolling on their blankets, and the leader was sittingcross-legged like a Turk, sending rings of smoke upward and watchingthem as they curled inward upon themselves and climbed out of sight. Thedimensions of his mouth were that ample that he could have done the sameon either side of the stem without removing it from between his teeth.

Jack Carleton looked straight at him for a few seconds, and then,imitating the guttural style of those around as best he could,pronounced in a distinct voice the single word—

"Ogallah!"

At that moment the chin of the chief was in the air and a procession ofrings were tumbling over each other as they hastened from between hislips. He dropped his head as abruptly as if some one had struck him inthe throat, and with his mouth still in circular shape allowed the ringsto go to ruin, while he stared in amazement at the boy who hadpronounced his name. The others showed as much wonder as did thechieftain. They also stared at the lad and then gave expressions totheir feelings in their guttural, grunting fashion.

It was quite embarrassing to Jack Carleton, who blushed, lookedconfused, and then tried hard to appear as though he did not feelspecially proud over his performance. The leader addressed some words tohim, as if suspecting he understood his language after all, but Jackcould only smile and shake his head to signify that he had alreadyexhibited his full proficiency in the tongue of his captors.

CHAPTER X.

WAITING AND HOPING.

It would be hard to measure the effect of the little achievement of JackCarleton upon the Indians who held him captive. He had pronounced thename of the chieftain with such clearness that every one recognized it.After all it was no great exploit, and it may have been the red menfeigned a goodly portion of the astonishment they seemed to feel.

Jack did not make any more essays in that direction, and a few minuteslater the vagabonds gave their principal attention to their pipes. Oneof them gathered an armful of brush and flung it on the fire; andanother, rising to his feet, turned his back toward the blaze with hishands together behind him, as though the warmth was very pleasant. Whilehe stood thus, he held the stem of his pipe in his mouth and lookedabsently at the boy, who could not see the face of the red man with muchdistinctness, as it was in shadow.

The fuel just thrown on the flames increased the warmth to such a degreethat those who were the nearest shifted their position. The warrior whowas on his feet stepped forward a single pace, and was still standing inhis idle fashion with his hands half folded behind him, when a sparkflew outward with a snap, and dropped down the neck of the unsuspiciousred man. When he felt the burn, like the thrust of a big needle, hesprang several feet in the air, and began frantically clutching at thetormenting substance. The second or third attempt secured the spark,which clung to his hand, burning his fingers to that extent that heemitted a rasping exclamation, bounded upward, and by a particularlyvigorous flirt of his hand freed it of the spark, which then expired ofitself.

As I have said, no man has less humor in his composition than the NorthAmerican Indian, and yet it is not by any means lacking in him. Itassumes odd forms at times, and too often seems based on the physicalsuffering of some person or animal; but in the instance of which I amspeaking, every one of the spectators was filled with mirth. Thelaughter shook them from head to foot, though with all its vigor itcould not have been heard fifty feet away.

Jack Carleton had been so long depressed that something like a reactioncame over him. He threw his head back and the woods rang with his heartymirth as they never rang before. If there was any one else within half amile, he must have wondered what all the uproar meant.

The cause of this amusem*nt conducted himself very much like a civilizedbeing. When he had rubbed the blistered spot on the back of his neckwith the scorched hand, he glared angrily at the others, as if he saw noadequate cause for the unusual mirth; then when it broke out afresh, hemade a weak attempt to join in, but failing to do so, he sullenly seatedhimself on the ground and looked as glum as a man meditating some wickeddeed.

All at once, he turned toward Jack Carleton with such a fierce scowlthat the boy was sobered. He believed with reason that the Indian wasready to leap upon him with his knife, punishing him in that dreadfulmanner for the provocation he felt toward the rest.

"I guess I have laughed enough," was the prudent thought of the boy,who straightway tried to look as if he sympathized with the red man forhis slight misfortune.

Jack could not tell how well he succeeded in imparting a pityingexpression to his countenance, but all disposition to laugh at thewarrior's mishap had departed, and it is not improbable that the youthowed his life to the fact.

Although the overflowing mirth soon ended, there were a number of smileson the faces of the warriors for a long time afterward, doubtless causedby the remembrance of the laughable performance earlier in the evening.

As the halt was for the night, the boy could hardly suppress hiscuriosity to see what shape matters would take. His strong hope was thathe would be allowed to lie where he then sat, and that none of thewarriors would arrange it so he could not change his position withoutawaking him.

It looked as if the prayer of Jack was to be granted. More wood wasthrown on the fire, and the Indians took but a brief time to disposethemselves for slumber. The pipes were laid away, their guns examined,and each placed his weapon alongside of him, as though it was hisintimate friend, from whose body he expected to obtain the warmth tokeep him comfortable through the night. The savage who held Jack's gunwas the only silent and reserved member of the party. The boy had heardhim utter less than half a dozen words since the journey began. He wasshorter and more squatty than the others, and his whole aim in lifeappeared to be a desire to please Ogallah, their chief. During thehilarity that reigned a short time before, he had grinned at hiscompanion, but his mirth was less hearty than that of the rest.

The blankets were spread out on the leaves to their fullest extent, andthen the warriors lay down, with their backs against each other andtheir moccasins pointing toward the fire. Then the covering was gatheredup in front of each and flung over behind, where the folds interlapped,all that remained visible being a part of the black hair and thefeathers in the crowns of the warriors, who seemed to find not the leastdifficulty in breathing with their heads swathed and bandaged up like awounded limb.

Two couples were thus formed, who were separated by the space of six oreight feet, while a rod beyond burned the camp-fire against the shaggytrunk of the oak. The intervening area and some distance away waslighted by the flames which had eaten into the bark, until the solidwood beneath was charred and blackened by the heat. Ogallah, the chief,strode to a point midway between the fire and the couples, flung hisblanket on the ground, and, pointing down to it, motioned to JackCarleton to come forward and use it for his couch.

This was not the most agreeable order to receive, but it might have beenmuch worse, and he obeyed with a readiness that looked genuine, thoughit could not have been entirely so. Jack nodded to the chief, as he tookhis seat and gathered the heavy folds around him, lay down on his rightside, with his face toward the fire. Ogallah looked at the lad, whoseknees almost touched his chin, and muttering to himself, walked back tothe oak and sat with his back against it, his feet close to his body andhis arms folded in front.

The chief was about one-fourth of the way around the oak from thecamp-fire, so that the light revealed his entire left side, and his notvery attractive profile, the whole being thrown against the blankdarkness beyond, which shut the rest of his body from view. Thisproceeding indicated that Ogallah meant to act the part of sentinelwhile his warriors slept. He did not require the blanket, as would havebeen the case had he lain down to slumber, and he was magnanimousenough, therefore, to turn it over the captive, who would have been aswell pleased never to touch it.

It cannot be supposed that the sachem and his warriors were in any fearof disturbance during the darkness, for they were in a country withwhich they were familiar, and they knew no dangerous enemies were withinmany miles of them. Had they met a party belonging to another tribe,more than likely the two, as a matter of principle, would have fallenupon each other like so many tigers; but none of their own race washunting for them, and the white settlers were altogether out of thequestion. But the possibility of peril—remote though it mightbe—always hangs over the hunter, as indeed it does over us all, and thered men had no thought of trusting themselves to slumber without one oftheir number standing guard over the rest.

Sleep is so insidious in its approach that the sentry, as a usual thing,can only fight it off by incessant action. So long as he paces back andforth, his senses stay with him, but when he sits down a minute or so torest, unconsciousness is sure to come. But Ogallah would not haveassumed the easy position had he not felt sure of his self-control. Itwill be perceived that he had so placed himself that he had a perfectview of the camp, while he could see all that was possible of thesurrounding gloom. If required, he could use the oak as a shield, andonly a slight signal was needed on his part to rouse the sleepingwarriors to instant wakefulness.

"Now, if he keeps awake," thought Jack Carleton, peeping through thefolds of his blanket with his half-closed eyes, "it don't look as thoughthere will be much chance for me, but if he drops into a doze I may slipoff, and I won't need much of a start to get away from him."

The most natural query would be as to which was more likely to fallasleep—the Indian or the boy. Ordinarily a youngster like Jack wouldhave been no match for the warrior, who had been trained to privation,suffering, hardship, self-denial and watchfulness from his earliestinfancy; but it need not be said that the state of one's mind haseverything to do with his ability to slumber and secure rest therefrom.Ogallah was mentally quiet; he had gone through a severe tramp, but nomore so than had been the case hundreds of times, and he was accustomedto sleep at that hour. Such was the case also with Jack Carleton, but hewas in a fever of hope and nervousness, which made it hard for him tohold his eyes partly closed in his effort to counterfeitunconsciousness. It was accepted as a matter of course that the fourwarriors who were lying down would speedily glide into the land ofdreams, since such was their wish. Slight as is the noise which issufficient to rouse a sleeping Indian, young Carleton would have felt nomisgiving respecting those so near him; it was Ogallah, the sentinelchieftain, whom he feared.

"If he suspects that I mean to try something of the kind," was theconclusion of Jack, "he will not close his eyes any longer than to wink.But I'll watch him."

This task which the boy set himself was of the most trying nature. Hadhis mind been composed he would have fallen asleep within five minutes,but he was never more wide awake in all his life than he was two hoursafter he had lain down with the Indian blanket wrapped about him, andhis face toward the camp-fire.

During that period, so far as he was able to see, the Indian had notmoved so much as a muscle, and Jack himself had done very little more.Lying on his right side, with his arm doubled under him for a pillow,the cumbrous blanket enclosing him from head to foot, an irregularopening in front of his face allowed him to peer through the folds atthe camp-fire, the oak, and the chieftain. The last still sat leaningslightly backward, with his shoulders against the trunk, his arms foldedover his knees, while he seemed to be gazing off into vacancy. The heelsof his moccasins remained close against the thighs, so that the form ofthe Indian bore quite a resemblance to the letter N.

The flickering light from the camp-fire disclosed as it did at first,the side and profile of the chieftain. Gradually the flames sank lowerand there came moments when the sentinel was scarcely visible. Then,all at once, the fire would flare up for a few seconds and the figurewould be in brighter relief than before. Again the eyes of Jack wouldrebel against the extreme tension to which they were subjected. TheIndian, instead of remaining with his back against the oak, would seemto be hitching forward and upward in the most grotesque fashion. Afterbumping about in the air for a time, he would sink, still bumping, tothe ground, where he would hitch backward to his place by the tree. Thenthe latter, instead of standing as motionless as a rock, showed signs ofrestlessness. It would begin by swaying back and forth until it too waswaltzing in an unearthly fashion around the camp-fire. Again thesurrounding gloom became studded with blinking stars, ogres and the mostgrotesque figures, which performed in an indescribable fashion. Darknessand light alternated, until the boy feared he was losing the power ofvision altogether; but it will be understood that this was the naturalprotest of the eye against the painful and long continued strain towhich it was subjected.

CHAPTER XI.

THROUGH THE FOREST.

Jack Carleton occasionally gave his eyes fitful rest by holding themclosed for a few moments, but the tantalizing visions did not leave himeven then. His arm became so painfully cramped under his head that hewas compelled to shift his position; and he seized the occasion toreadjust his limbs, which were also becoming wearied because of the longtime he had held them motionless. He was prudent enough, however, togive the whole movement the seeming of a natural action done in sleep.He flung himself about for a few seconds, and then rolled back almost inthe same posture, apparently resuming his heavy slumber.

But through the half closed eyelids, on which the dull glow of thecamp-fire fell, he was peering at the faint outlines of the figureagainst the oak. He was sure Ogallah would start and rise to his feet,ready to check any steps on the part of the captive looking towardflight.

But not the slightest stir was made, and the astonished lad, with apainful throb of his heart, said to himself:

"He is asleep! Now is my chance!"

It seemed to be too good to be true, and yet it certainly had thatappearance. For some time past, Jack had known from the regularbreathing of the figures near him that the couples wrapped up in theirblankets were unconscious. Certainly there could be no doubt about theone who had been burned by the spark of fire, for he snored amain, likethe "seven sleepers."

It is at such times that one's senses are wonderfully acute, and JackCarleton not only saw but heard with unusual keenness. With his earclose to, but not touching the ground, he distinctly caught a ripplingsound in the streamlet which flowed so near. The fact that he heard itwas proof that it was caused by some "foreign interference," since itwas entirely different from the slight rippling noise along the banks.

The first thought of Jack was that it was Deerfoot come to his rescue,and he could not but think how completely he would be master of thesituation, should he suddenly rise to his feet in front of Ogallah andgive him to understand he was not to move or speak; but a second thoughtdestroyed the hope. It was exceedingly improbable that the youngShawanoe was within a score of miles, but while it was possible that hemight be hunting somewhere in the forest, it was incredible that hewould have betrayed his presence near camp in the manner named.

Jack had barely reached this correct conclusion, when, peering at thefigure of Ogallah, as it was faintly shown, he caught the gleam of theeyes of a wild beast just beyond, and in a direct line with the chief.The eyes were large, round and quite close together, with thatphosphorescent, flickering glow often shown by animals when the light isfaint.

"That will settle the question whether Ogallah is asleep or not," saidthe boy, watching with an intensity of interest which cannot bedescribed.

Whatever the nature of the animal, he was evidently on a reconnaissance,and had no purpose of venturing closer until satisfied the path wasclear to do so. It must have been that he cared very little one way orthe other, for while the two orbs were glaring upon Jack, they vanishedwith a suddenness that suggested that some one had seized his tail andflung him back into the gloom from which he first emerged.

It was incredible, too, that the chief should have sat quiet andmotionless with a wild beast so near him, unless he was asleep, but thepossibility of being mistaken after all, kept Jack from stirring forfully a half hour longer.

The time seemed much later than it really was, when the boy rose on hiselbow and hesitated, while he looked intently around and listened forthe slightest sound. He glanced right and left at the figures shroudedin the blankets, but they might have been so many dead men. He couldbarely discern their outlines in the gloom, for the fire was slowly, butsteadily, sinking. Several times he had asked himself whether it wouldnot be wise to wait until it died out altogether, but he was toostrongly convinced that the night was nearly gone, and he would needevery minute in which to widen the distance between him and hispursuers.

"No," he murmured, "it won't do to wait another second."

He was on one knee, with his hand pressing the ground, when the largeststick on the fire burned in two in the middle, and the larger portionrolled back and in front of the chief. The disturbance caused it toflare up for the moment with a glare which revealed the figure ofOgallah more distinctly than at any time since he had taken hisposition.

Jack Carleton paused in his painful movement and became like a figurecut in marble, staring straight at the warrior brought into suchunexpected prominence. As he did so, he saw that Ogallah was not onlywide awake, but had turned his head, and was looking straight at him.The cunning fellow had not slept a wink from the moment he took hissingular position. He had noted the wolf which ventured close enough totake a peep into camp, but, well aware that there was no danger, andconvinced also that his captive was awaiting the chance to steal away,he held himself as rigid as iron until such an attempt should be made.

Poor Jack almost fainted in a collapse of despair. He saw that hiscaptors had trifled with him from the beginning, and with a sigh ofutter wretchedness, he dropped back on the ground, feeling that it wasworse than useless for him to expect or hope to outwit those cunningchildren of the forest.

Reaction followed, and the lad speedily sank into a deep slumber whichlasted until the sun had risen and the party had broken camp and wereready to resume their journey. Even then it was necessary for Ogallah tothrust his moccasin against him before he opened his eyes and staredconfusedly around. The sight of the warriors who stood ready to move,recalled Jack to his hapless situation. He rubbed his eyes, and sprangto his feet, and walking to the streamlet lay down, took a draught ofthe cool, refreshing water in which he bathed his face, wiping it offwith his handkerchief, and then turned about to signify that he awaitedorders.

He wondered that no signs of breakfast were to be seen, and at firstsuspected that his captors had partaken while he slept, but afterwardconcluded that like all their people they were anything but regular intheir meals, especially when on the tramp.

Without any ceremony, the journey was taken up, Ogallah again walking atthe head, with the other four at the rear of the boy. They adopted theirfavorite custom of walking in Indian file, each warrior stepping in thetracks of the one in front. Jack was wise enough to adhere to thepractice, so that had any one sought to follow the party, he would havenoted but the single trail, though a skilled red or white man would havebeen quick to discover the precise number of the company.

"We have traveled a good many miles since yesterday noon," thought Jack,"and it must be that we are not far from the Indian village. If that isso, it won't do for me to make any other attempt to run away. Ogallahknows I am anxious to go, for he saw me try it twice, and he will takegood care that I don't try it again."

Still, while taking this sensible view of the matter, Jack Carletoncompressed his lips with the resolution that he would not throw away asingle chance. If it should prove that many miles still lay before themand that several nights were to be spent on the road, he meant to do hisutmost to give his captors the slip.

The journey assumed the most monotonous character. It was simply tramp,tramp, without the least rest or variation. Jack was sure he had neverseen such sameness in the forest, lasting mile after mile. There werethe towering trees, their leafy branches interlocked overhead, the samearray of shaggy columns of bark, spreading limbs and sparse undergrowth.Sometimes Ogallah would step so rapidly that a branch which he brushedfrom his path would swing back and switch the lad in the face, and onceor twice a running vine would be uprooted by a vigorous fling or kick ofthe foot.

But all this time the squat figure of the chief advanced like a machine.Jack noticed the swing of the muscular arms, the play of the legs andthe occasional slight turning or ducking of the head. The stragglingblack hair, with the painted eagle feathers drooping like the plume of alady's hat, the blanket slung loosely over the shoulders, the fringedhunting shirt and leggings, the faded moccasins, so soft that theyspread out of all manner of shape when the weight of the body rested onthem:—all these and much more were impressed upon the mind of the boywith a distinctness that he was certain would last him all through life.

"My gracious!" thought he, "they have come from a long distance; whatcould have taken them down near Martinsville and so near theMississippi? I wonder whether it is possible the tribes who live on thisside the river ever cross over to look at the country on the othershore. It would not be strange if they did so, but it don't seem like anIndian to do that sort of thing. Can it be these warriors have theirhunting grounds away out toward the Rocky Mountains? If so, I shall havea fine time in finding my way back home."

The youth did not allow himself to consider the possibility that hewould never have the chance to attempt the journey. The shuddering fearwhich first took hold of him was gone. Closely as the captors guardedhim, he was persuaded they meant to inflict no personal harm—at leastwhile on their way through the woods.

It was a serious question indeed as to what would be his treatment afterreaching the Indian settlement. The American race is cruel, treacherous,and revengeful, and though the red men frequently hold prisoners formonths and years, they more frequently subject them to torture anddeath. It will be understood, therefore, why Jack Carleton was soanxious to make his escape from the party before they could arrive home.

Present discomforts often drive away future horrors, and, by the timethe sun was overhead, Jack gave his principal thought to one thing—thequestion of food. He was a-hungered, and viewed with a mental groan theprospect of keeping on the march until sunset, before securing anythingto eat.

"I have gone a full day many a time without food," he said, as hetramped along, "but it seems to me I never was as ravenous as now. Ibelieve I could eat a pair of boiled moccasins, that is, if they hadnever been in use."

He was ashamed of his weakness, and resolutely refrained from giving anyevidence of his suffering, but when he detected the pale green foliageof the fragrant birch, he ventured to step out of the trail, break off abranch and chew the bark, thus securing temporary relief from thegnawing discomfort.

High noon came, but no halt had been made. The lad had left the trailseveral times, and the warriors themselves were more careless abouttheir own footsteps, but seemed to have no desire to partake of food.

The first shock of surprise came when the party suddenly emerged fromthe woods and paused on the bank of a deep, swift stream, fully ahundred yards wide. The current, like the smaller one, was yellow androiled, and the boy looked upon it with a feeling akin to dismay.Recalling the indignity to which he had been subjected earlier in theday, he dreaded trusting himself in the water again.

"This time they may take it into their heads to drown me," was histhought.

But his nerves were not subjected to the trial. Nothing showed moreclearly the wonderful woodcraft of the Indians than the fact that, afterjourneying many long leagues through the wilderness, without theslightest trail to guide them, they struck the stream within a hundredyards of the point at which they aimed from the first.

This was proven by the action of the warriors themselves. After talkingtogether for a few minutes, two of them walked a short distance up thebank and drew a large canoe from under the shore, where they had left itwhen journeying in the other direction.

CHAPTER XII.

THE SIGNAL FIRES.

The canoe was made of bark, with the ends turned up in the usualfashion. Two long paddles belonging to it lay within, and were taken bythe warriors, who paddled it down to where the party were in waiting.All stepped carefully inside, and the same Indians who brought it fromits hiding place turned the prow toward the other shore and beganswinging the paddles with the freedom and vigor peculiar to theirpeople. Jack was the last to seat himself, and he held fast as best hecould, dreading some of the rude jokes of his captors.

When all were in position, and the craft began moving, great care wasnecessary, for it sank to the gunwales, and a slight disturbance wouldbe enough to overturn the frail boat. Although Jack feared such anoccurrence, yet the Indians themselves were no more desirous it shouldtake place than was he.

He naturally fixed his eyes on the line of warriors seated in front ofhim. All faced the shore they were approaching, and the couple using thepaddles dipped first one end on the right and the other end on the leftof the canoe. They put forth little exertion. Had they chosen to do so,they could have tripled the speed, though most likely an upset wouldhave been the consequence.

The middle of the stream was not reached, when a small fish leaped outof the water in front and fell back again. Ogallah uttered anexclamation, and, reaching his hand over the side of the boat, held itseveral inches under the surface. The two Indians not using the paddlesdid the same, just as a party of young people will do when taking apleasure sail over some calm lake.

Suddenly Ogallah gave a quick flirt of the submerged hand, flinging thesparkling water over all. Something flashed in the sunlight, and a plumpfish, weighing fully a pound, dropped into the canoe. Almost immediatelythe other two warriors did the same, one of them securing a prizeweighing as much as both the others. The fact was, the boat was passingthrough something like a school of fish, and the red men found nodifficulty in capturing a number.

"That looks like dinner," thought Jack with a chuckle, as he also dippedhis hand to grope for the finny delicacies. He had less than a minute towait when something cold and smooth touched his fingers. He made adesperate clutch, sinking his arm to his elbow, but the fish was tooquick, and darted beyond his reach, just as Ogallah landed anothertempting one.

Several more were taken, but Jack could not succeed in closing hisfingers quickly enough to keep the fish from slipping away. By the timethe other side of the stream was reached, a good supply had beensecured, and the boy forgot his sorrow in the pleasure of anticipatingthat his hunger would be fully satisfied.

Happily he was not disappointed in this respect, for, while the oarsmenwere drawing the boat out of the water, the others were preparing thefire with which to cook the fish, that were speedily dressed. They werethe "white" species common in the west, and when browned to a juicycrisp, formed as luscious a meal as any epicure could ask. Best of all,there was an abundance, and Jack Carleton ate until he wanted no more.

Having tramped so many miles since the rising of the sun, Ogallah andhis warriors were disposed to enjoy a good rest.

Their pipes were relighted and they lolled about in the same lazyfashion, paying no special heed to Jack, who knew the unwisdom of makingany effort to get away.

All this convinced the boy that the party had still a considerabledistance to travel. Had they been in the neighborhood of their village,they would have pushed on without stopping. At any rate, they would nothave paused to kindle the camp-fire and to cook a meal at mid-day.

"It must be," Jack said to himself, with several nods of his head, "thatwe are to spend another night on the road: if that is so, I'll make abreak if I have to suffer for it."

These were vaunting words, but he was in earnest. Except for the hopethus renewed within him, the youth would have given way to thedrowsiness which became quite common with the rest, but a line ofspeculation was started which kept his mind occupied during the fullhour the party dawdled about the camp-fire.

At the end of the time named, the ashes were knocked from the pipes,several stretched their limbs and yawned, and the sullen-faced warriorwho had been taking care of Jack's rifle, passed it back to him withsome surly word, which most likely meant that thereafter the captiveshould bear his own burdens. The boy was glad enough to regain hisweapon, but he smiled when he observed that it had no charge in it. Hiscaptors were determined not to put temptation in his way.

It took the company a considerable time to "shake themselves together."They straggled and kept irregular step, and finally, when they beganascending a slope, where the ground was much broken and covered withstones, they gave it up altogether. The ascent continued until theyfound themselves on an elevation several hundred feet high, and sodevoid of vegetation that a view was gained which covered an area ofhundreds of square miles in every direction.

Standing on this lookout, as it may be called, the Indians devoted anumber of minutes to such survey. No employment just then could be moreentertaining, and Jack Carleton adopted it.

The scene was too similar to those with which the reader of these pageshas become familiar to need any lengthened reference in this place. Itwas green, billowy forest in every direction. Here and there a streamwound like a silver ribbon through the emerald wilderness, sometimesgleaming in the sunlight, and then disappearing among the vegetation, toreappear miles away, and finally to vanish from sight altogether as itwound its way toward the Gulf. At remote points the trained eye coulddetect the thin, wavy column of vapor motionless against the sky, a mutewitness that beings other than those on the hill were stealing throughthe vast solitude in their quest for game or prey.

Inasmuch as Jack Carleton readily detected these "signs," as the hunterterms them, it followed they must have been noted by the Indiansthemselves; but they gave no evidence of any excitement on that account.It was natural that such evidences of the presence of other persons inthe immense territory should present themselves.

But the youth failed to find that for which he specially looked.Observing the chieftain gazing earnestly toward the west, he did thesame, expecting to catch sight of the Indian village where Ogallah andhis warriors made their home. He descried a wooded ridge stretchingacross his field of vision, but not the first resemblance to village orwigwam could be discovered.

"He is not looking for that," thought Jack, "but is expecting somesignal which will appear on the ridge."

One of the other Indians was peering with equal intentness at the samepoint, but the minutes passed and nothing presented itself. Jack joinedin the scrutiny, but he could not succeed where they failed.

All at once the sachem seemed to lose patience. He said some vigorousthings, accompanied by equally vigorous gestures, and then the wholeparty began hastily gathering wood. In a short while this was kindledand burning strongly. When the flames were fairly going, one of thewarriors who had collected several handfuls of damp leaves by diggingunder the dry ones, dropped them carefully on the blaze. It looked atfirst as if the fire would be put out, but it struggled upward, andby-and-by a column of dense black smoke stained the sky like the smuttyfinger of some giant tracing a wavy line across it.

The Signal

Then Ogallah and one of his men held his blanket spread out so as almostto force the thick smoke to the ground, but such was not their purpose.The blanket was abruptly lifted, then swayed in a peculiar fashion, thetwo moving in perfect unison, without speaking, and repeating theirpantomime with the regularity of machinery, for the space of fully tenminutes.

The results were singular. The inky column of vapor was broken into anumber of sections, as may be said, so that when viewed from a distancethe figure was that of a black broad band of enormous height, separatedby belts of colorless air into a dozen pieces or divisions, the upperones gradually melting into nothingness. Besides this, so deftly had thered men manipulated the fire and blanket, that these divisions showed apeculiar wavy appearance, which would have excited wondering remark, nomatter by whom seen.

"It is a signal to some one on the ridge yonder," was the conclusion ofJack, who watched the proceeding with much interest.

Having finished, Ogallah and the warrior threw the blanket on theground, and the whole five gazed at the ridge miles away. For a timeperfect silence reigned, and then one of the dusky watchers uttered anexclamation, to which the chief responded with a grunt.

While scanning the distant ridge, Jack detected a black brush of vaporclimbing slowly above the trees. It broke clean off, and as it went onupward, was inclosed by clear air on all sides. But it was not longbefore a second, third, fourth, and fifth appeared. Parties wereanswering the signal of the chief in precisely the same manner that hemade it. The only difference was in the number, of which there were onlythe five. Those, however, were sufficient, as the parties making it werewell aware.

This aboriginal system of telegraphy, which has been in use from timeimmemorial, is still a favorite means of communication among the Indiansof the West. More than once the news of the signing of some importanttreaty, or the war movement of tribes, has been flashed by means ofsignal fires from mountain top to mountain top over a distance ofhundreds of miles.

The information given by the answering signal fire was satisfactory tothe chief Ogallah, who resumed the journey at a leisurely pace, makingno effort to walk in the close Indian file that he and his warriors didwhen further away from home.

"If we reach the village before going into camp," concluded Jack, "wemust keep moving until after dark. The sun is setting and the ridge isstill a good ways off."

It soon became manifest that the red men had no purpose of tiringthemselves by walking. They were at the base of the ridge when they cameupon a small stream which dashed down the mountain side with a musicalplash, forming currents, eddies, and cascades, while in the depths ofsome pebbly pool it was as silent and clear as liquid mountain air.

The afternoon was more sultry than the early portion of the day, andevery member of the company quaffed his fill from the refreshingelement. Jack's heart gave a great bound of hope when he saw thatOgallah meant to spend the night there. He was strongly convinced thathe would gain an opportunity to steal away during the darkness, whichpromised to be denser than on the previous night. Although the day hadbeen clear and beautiful, yet the clouds gathered after the sun wentdown, and there were signs of a storm. Low mutterings of distant thunderand the fitful flashes of lightning showed the interchange ofelectricity between the earth and sky, though it might not develop toany great extent for many hours to come.

No hunt was made for game, and after the abundant meal earlier in theday, Jack could not complain if compelled to fast until morning. A firewas kindled precisely as before, a sturdy oak forming the background,while the others lolled around it and smoked their long-stemmed pipes.

When Jack Carleton was invited to retire to his couch by the sullenwarrior, he obeyed as though pleased with the prospect of a full night'srest. Ogallah stretched out with one of his men, while the ill-temperedmember sat down with his back against the tree, as though desirous ofimitating his leader in every respect.

CHAPTER XIII.

THE INDIAN VILLAGE.

"There's one thing certain," said Jack Carleton to himself, as hegathered the Indian blanket around his shoulders, like one lying down topleasant dreams, "I can keep awake a good deal more easily than I didlast night. I'm pretty tired, but I slept so much toward morning that itwill be no trouble to go twenty-four hours without any more."

The temperature was milder than at that time, so that the lad found thethick blanket uncomfortably warm when wrapped closely around him. Heflung out his feet and arms as a child often does with its bedcoverings, and adjusted his body so as to keep his eye on the sentinel,without (as the captive believed) any suspicion of his intention.

The other couples sank into refreshing slumber within a few minutesafter lying down, and it certainly was singular that the warrior whosat half revealed, with his back against the tree, should havecontinued as motionless as did the chief Ogallah the evening before. Itwas impossible that two scenes should resemble each other more closelythan those named.

"I don't believe he can keep it up as long as the old fellow did. If hetries it, he will be dreaming, and when he and the rest awake, they willfind I am miles off and going with might and main for home. My gracious!but I shall have a long distance to travel, and it will be hard work tokeep out of their way."

Fixing his eyes on the form as it was shown by the flickering camp-fire,Jack prepared to watch with more patience than he showed in the formerinstance. The sound of the splashing brook and the soft stirring of thenight wind were soothing to the tired boy. By-and-by his eyelidsdrooped, then closed, and his senses passed from him. Never was he sunkin sounder sleep.

Nothing occurred to disturb him, and he slept hour after hour, neveropening his eyes until it was broad daylight and Ogallah and hiswarriors were astir.

Jack was chagrined beyond expression when he found what he had done,or, rather, what he had failed to do. The opportunity for which he hadsighed so long had slipped irrevocably from his grasp. So convinced washe of this fact that he gave over all thought of escape while on thejourney.

"The Indian village can't be far off, and I must now go ahead and takemy chances. But this is getting tiresome."

The last remark referred to the absence of any preparations forbreakfast. He had made no complaint the evening before, but it was ahardship to continue his fast. Inasmuch, however, as there was no helpfor it, he submitted without a murmur.

There was now no pretence of treading in each other's footsteps, but theparty straggled up the ridge like a lot of weary pedestrians. No oneseemed to pay any attention to the single captive, most likely becausethere was no call to do so. He might desire to make a break for liberty,but he could not go further than they were willing to permit.

The top of the ridge was marked by a bare spot, where some charredsticks showed a fire had been recently kindled. There could be no doubtthat it was there the answering signal had been made to the call ofOgallah.

But looking down the western slope of the ridge, Jack Carleton's eyesrested on a scene more interesting than any that had met his gaze sinceleaving home. Less than a mile off, close to the shore of a windingstream and in the middle of a partially cleared space, stood the Indianvillage toward which his footsteps had been tending for nearly two days,and where he was likely to spend an indefinite captivity.

The stream was perhaps a hundred feet in width. It shone brightly in themorning sun, and the current was clearer than that of the river crossedthe day before. It wound its way westward as far as the eye could followit, flowing into a tributary of the Osage, thence to the Missouri, andso on to the Gulf of Mexico.

The Indian village numbered between twenty and thirty lodges, wigwams ordwellings as they may be called. Some of them were made of bison anddeer skins, and were of irregular, conical shape; others were mere huts,covered with grass, leaves, limbs and dirt, while one or two weremainly composed of stones piled in the form of rude walls and roofed inthe rude fashion described.

These primitive structures were scattered irregularly over a space ofhalf an acre, which might be called a clearing, inasmuch as only a fewstumps and broken trees were to be seen. But nothing in the way of cornor vegetables was growing, and the air of dilapidation, untidiness andsqualor pervading the whole scene, was characteristic of the race, andwas that which robs it of the romance which in the minds of manyattaches to the name of the American Indian.

Viewed from the ridge, Jack could see figures moving to and fro in theaimless manner natural to such indolent people. There were childrenrunning and playing among the stumps and dwellings—half naked littleknots of humanity, who in a few years would become the repulsive squawsor terrible warriors of the tribe. Three of the youngsters were having ahigh time with a canoe lying against the shore. They were splashing thewater over each other, plunging into the stream and scrambling out againwithout regard to the wear or tear of their clothing, and playing allsorts of tricks on each other, while a half dozen playmates werestanding on the bank laughing so heartily that a spectator would havefound it hard to understand why the American race is so often describedas of a melancholy temperament.

Now and then some squaw could be seen trudging along under a load ofsticks, while more than likely her lazy husband was asleep within thewigwam. A half dozen warriors strolled off toward the woods, rifles inhand, and most likely with the intention of going upon a hunt. Justbefore leaving the clearing, one of them caught sight of the group onthe top of the ridge. Immediately they swung their arms and sent severalringing whoops across as a salutation to their friends.

Ogallah answered, and he and his party moved down the slope toward theirhomes. Having saluted each other in this fashion, the warriors of thevillage speedily vanished in the wood. They must have known that thereturning company had a prisoner with them, but it will be seen theyfelt no particular interest in the matter.

But if such was the fact respecting the hunters, it was far differentwith those who were left behind. The moment the five warriors emergedfrom the wood, with the captive walking among them, the whole villagewas thrown in a turmoil of excitement. Squaws and children rushedforward, men came to the entrances of their wigwams, and some strolledout to make a closer investigation of the matter.

It was a trying moment to Jack Carleton, for it may be said that he haddiscounted it during the preceding day. He forced himself to smile, andwhen the chattering, grunting, shouting crowd gathered around him soclosely that he was forced to stop walking, he shook, so far as hecould, most of the scores of hands that were pushed against him.

All this was well enough, but it was not long before their attentiontook an unpleasant form. Some of the half grown bucks either feigned orreally were angered because Jack could not give them heed, and struckhim with the flat of their hands about the chest and shoulders. The boyturned when the first blow was delivered, and the Indian indulged in ataunting grimace. Jack clenched his fist and was on the point ofstriking him in the face when his good sense restrained him. He neededno one to tell him the consequences of such rashness.

The attentions soon became so boisterous that Ogallah interfered. Heflung the crowd right and left, commanding them to disperse, and thenbeckoned the youth to follow him toward a lodge near the center of thevillage. Jack was glad enough to do so, and was speedily relieved ofannoyance.

The sachem conducted the boy to his own dwelling where none of thecurious dare follow him, though the crowd gathered on the outside andpeeped within, like so many persons seeking a free survey of a circus.

Suspecting that this was likely to be his new home for an indefinitetime, Jack Carleton was quick to acquaint himself with the interior. Thestructure, as I have said, stood near the middle of the village, and wasthe largest of the collection. It is rare that an aboriginal buildingbears such resemblance to those made by the white men of the border, forthe American race has never shown any aptitude in architecture.

Ogallah's house was a log cabin, perhaps twenty feet long by half asmany wide. The logs were roughly dovetailed at the corners, but none ofthe numerous crevices were stopped by mortar or clay, and daylightcould be discerned through many a rent, which in cold weather admittedthe keen cutting wind.

A single opening served as a door. Aboriginal ingenuity could not passbeyond this rude contrivance, so having opened the way for ingress andegress, the builder was content to hang a bison skin as a curtain. Thiscould be readily pulled aside by any one, and the door locked byfastening the corners. Windows are a sinful extravagance to the AmericanIndian, and there was not one in the village to which Jack Carleton wastaken. When the open door, the burning fire, the hole which answered fora chimney, and the numerous crevices did not give enough light for theinterior, the occupants went outside to obtain it.

Having put up the four walls of logs and roofed them with branches,covered with leaves, dirt and grass, Ogallah was content to lean back,fold his arms and smoke his pipe in placid triumph. The floor was theearth, worn hard and smooth by the feet of the family, and the fire waskindled on the ground at the further end, where the vapor found its waythrough the irregular opening made for the purpose. There was nothing inthe nature of a chair or bench in the place. Bison and deer robesformed the couches, and the pegs driven in the logs held blankets, bows,and furs of animals (most of the last, however, lying on the ground),leggings and other articles worn by the chieftain and his wife.

These two were the only occupants of the place previous to the coming ofJack Carleton. Ogallah was in middle life, and had been the father ofbut a single son, who died while yet a papoose. His wife was tall andmuscular, evidently a woman with a strong will, and well worthy to bethe consort of an Indian chief. She did not rush to her husband andembrace him the moment she caught sight of him. Indeed, she had notventured outside the lodge, though she could not have failed to hear theunusual turmoil.

She would not have been human had she not shown some curiosityrespecting her husband's companion. Jack doffed his hat and bowed to herwith elaborate courtesy, after which he leaned his rifle against theside of the wigwam and folded his arms. The squaw surveyed him for afull minute, during which he stood as if awaiting her commands, andthen, turning to her husband, the two held a short but vigorousconversation.

The wife must have been expecting him, for she was engaged in cookingsome venison in the usual aboriginal fashion, and, to the great reliefof the boy, the two were not kept waiting for their meal. Seatingthemselves cross-legged on the ground, the half-cooked meat was taken intheir hands, and, with no other utensils than his hunting knife, eachmade his morning meal.

And so at last Jack Carleton was a captive among a tribe of Indianswhose totem was unknown to him. Whether he was to remain with them untilmanhood, or whether he was to be put to death long before that period,were questions whose answers he did not dare try to conjecture.

His situation was a most extraordinary one, as every reader will admit.He knew of more than one instance where children who were captured whenquite small, had become so attached to the rude ways and wild life ofthe red men, that they refused to go back to their own people when theoffer presented itself, but it was too late in the day for such anexperience to befall him.

And now, for a time, we must leave Jack Carleton to himself, while wegive attention to other incidents which are destined to have a bearingon his fate.

CHAPTER XIV.

ON THE MOUNTAIN CREST.

The reader has not forgotten the encounter between Jacob Relstaub andDeerfoot, the Shawanoe, when the former plunged headlong through his owndoor in mortal fear that the tomahawk of the youthful warrior would besent crashing through his brain; but, much as Deerfoot despised theGerman, he had no thought of visiting injury upon him. Shoving back theweapon to its place in his girdle, he therefore strode off in theforest, never pausing in his walk until the sun appeared above thehorizon. He was then many miles from Martinsville, his face turnedtoward the southwest.

Throwing himself on his face, he quaffed his fill from a small, clearstream, whose current was only moderately cool, and then, assuming aneasy posture on the ground, gave himself over to deep thought.

The question which he was seeking to answer was as to his duty. He hadgone to the settlement to see his young friends, and learned that theyhad started some hours before on a hunting expedition. Such a proceedingwas so natural, and, withal, so common, that any one expressing wonderthereat was likely to be laughed at for his words. The boys of thefrontier learn to handle the rifle when much younger than either OttoRelstaub or Jack Carleton, and they were sometimes absent for days at atime without causing any misgiving on the part of their parents.

Why, then, should Deerfoot be perplexed over the matter, when even themother of Jack expressed no fear concerning him?

Why, indeed? That was the query which puzzled the young warrior. It hasalready been said it was the custom of Deerfoot to follow a certaininexplainable intuition which often came to his help in his moments ofdoubt. In the present instance, something seemed to whisper that it washis duty to look after the boys, but the whisper was so low—as may besaid—that he hesitated to obey it, led to do so by a doubt as towhether, after all, it was that instinctive prompting which hithertohad guided him so infallibly in many of his daring enterprises andundertakings.

It was characteristic of the warrior that, after spending a long time insuch anxious thought, he should draw his Bible from the inner pocket ofhis hunting shirt, and begin looking through its pages for guidance.There were certain portions that were favorites of his, and, withoutsearching, the volume opened to one after another of these places; butseek as much as he chose, he could find nothing that bore on the problemhe wished to solve.

"The Great Spirit wills that Deerfoot shall settle the question forhimself," was his conclusion, as he returned the treasure to its place.

It may as well be admitted that the principal cause of Deerfoot'shesitation cannot be given at this time. There was an urgent reason whyhe should make haste to the southwest, and he longed to break into hiseasy, loping trot, which he was able to maintain without fatigue fromrise of morn till set of sun. But the same strange impulse which senthim into the settlement to inquire concerning his friends, still keptthem in his thoughts.

But he was not the youth to torment himself in this manner, hour afterhour, and he finally compressed his thin lips and muttered:

"Deerfoot will return in a few days, and then, if his brothers are stillgone, he will hunt for them."

This was not a satisfactory conclusion, but he followed it with hisusual promptness. He was in the very act of rising from the ground, whenhis quick ear caught a faint footfall. Like a flash he raised his head,and observed a noble buck approaching the water with the purpose ofdrinking from it. It was not to be expected that the animal had any fearof hunters in such a solitary place, and he came forward with a proudstep, as though master of the wilderness.

The Shawanoe waited until he was within fifty feet, when the buckstopped short, and threw up his head as though he scented danger in theair. At that instant Deerfoot bounded to his feet as if thrown upward bya spring-board, and with a slight whoop, dashed straight at the animal,swinging his arms and jumping from side to side in the most grotesquefashion.

Few animals of the forest are more timid than the deer, which, like thebear, is found in almost every portion of the American continent. Thebuck with one swift whirl on his hoofs, faced the other way, and was offlike an arrow, shooting between the trees, through the undergrowth, andbounding over obstructions as though they were not worth his notice. Theordinary hunter might have found time to fire one shot, when the gamewould have vanished like a bird on the wing, before he could reload; butthe occasion was a good one for Deerfoot to display his wonderfulfleetness, and he was in the mood to do so. He had made his gestures anduttered his cries for the very purpose of terrifying the animal intodoing his utmost, and he did it.

With his head thrown back, so that his antlers almost rested on hisback, he plunged forward with amazing swiftness; but when he had gonetwo hundred yards, he saw the same light, willowy figure almost on hishaunch. He even flung up his arms and shouted again, as if urging him toa higher rate of speed. And such was the truth; Deerfoot was running asfast as the game, and he was able to run still faster.

The buck bounded up a steep slope, and with one tremendous leap cleareda craggy rock in his path. He had barely done so, when the youngShawanoe was after him, going over with a lightness and grace thatshowed no special effort. The pursuer was on his haunches, and theanimal, with glaring eyeballs and a horrified sniff, seemed to bound offwith the speed of the wind. But of what avail? The warrior was not to beshaken off. With a speed which none of his race could equal, it was onlyplay for him to outrun the deer. Years before (as I have told in anotherplace), Deerfoot, for mere sport, pursued one of the fleetest of horses,and kept it up hour after hour, until he ran down the steed. He wasdoing the same to the buck. There was not a moment from the first whenhe could not have launched an arrow that would have brought the game tothe ground; he was near enough to drive his tomahawk into the neck, buthe did nothing of that nature. Inasmuch as he was running the race, hemeant it should be a fair one, and neither should take any advantageover the other.

What terrifying imaginings took possession of the buck when he awoke tothe fact that it was impossible to escape the dreadful being clingingto his hips, cannot be understood by any of us, but that which followed,incredible as it may seem, is an indisputable fact.

The singular race was kept up for slightly more than a mile, duringevery fraction of which the fugitive put forth his highest possibleeffort. Such a terrific strain cannot fail to tell upon the most highlytrained animal, and so, despite all he could do, the buck found himselfunable to keep up his prodigious tension. He was losing ground, and hecould not fail to know that escape was out of the question: he was asmuch doomed as if surrounded and driven at bay by a dozen hunters andtheir hounds. He was still running at his highest bent, when he suddenlydeviated to the right, and, with shocking violence, plunged squarelyagainst the trunk of a beech, and, falling over on his side, gave a fewconvulsive struggles and died. Beyond question, the buck, when awake tothe fact that there was no hope for him, deliberately committed suicideby breaking his neck.

The young Shawanoe paused, and looked down upon the quivering form withfeelings of pity.

"Why did he do that? Deerfoot felt too much sorrow to harm him; he onlysought to show him he could run the faster; but he will run no more, andDeerfoot will eat."

The spot was suitable, and, within less time than would be supposed, thewarrior was seated on the ground, deliberately masticating a liberalslice of broiled venison. Doubtless it would have been improved could hehave hung it in a cellar or tree for several days, but it wasn'tconvenient to do so, and Deerfoot therefore ate it as he could obtainit, and was satisfied therewith.

No water was within reach, the Indian following the healthful practiceof the wild animals themselves, of not partaking of drink while eatingfood.

The meal finished, Deerfoot did not conduct himself like one who wasstill in doubt as to the course he ought to follow. He had solved thequestion earlier in the day, and, though the conclusion he reached wasnot fully satisfactory, he resolutely forced aside all further thoughtrespecting it, and gave his attention simply to that which was beforehim. His dinner required only a short time, when he resumed his journey,if such it may be termed. He walked with his usual noiseless gait, inwhich could be detected not the slightest weakness or exhaustionresulting from his terrific run.

The young Shawanoe was advancing toward the mountainous portion of thepresent State of Missouri. The Ozark range, or its spurs, cover one-halfof that large State, and their recesses afford hunting grounds andretreats such as are surpassed by no other portion of the continent.

Deerfoot turned his footsteps toward a high promontory some milesdistant. It was the most elevated among many others, and formed alandmark visible over a very extensive area. The youthful warrior didnot hasten his footsteps, for there was no call to do so, but hesteadily approached the mountain, up which he tramped in his leisurelyfashion, until he paused on the very highest point.

The journey was long, and when he came to a halt the sun was far downthe western horizon. The summit of the mountain was covered with rocksand boulders, with here and there a few scrubby pines. Nothing could bemore unattractive than the broken, stony soil, but the view which wasspread out before him who climbed to the top was enough to kindle theeye of a stoic, and make the heart overflow with love and awe toward thegreat Being who made it all.

But the eye can become accustomed to the grandest scenes, and, althoughDeerfoot leaned on the rock beside him, and allowed his keen vision towander over the magnificent panorama, it did not cause an additionalpulse-beat. When he had glanced at the mountains, the valleys between,the broken country, the forests, the diversified scenery in everydirection, his gaze rested on another promontory similar to the one hehad climbed.

It was several miles distant, in a directly southern course, and wasnearly or quite two hundred feet higher than the one on which he stood.The latter, like those to which reference has been made, was of thenature of a ridge, while the one on which his eyes were fixed was adiminutive Teneriffe as to its form.

While the manner of Deerfoot indicated very plainly that he expected tosee something out of the usual order of things, yet it looked very muchas if he would have been pleased over his failure to do so. No paintercould limn a more striking picture than that which was formed byDeerfoot, at the close of that beautiful spring day, when, as the sunwas setting, he stood on the elevation and gazed across the interveningcountry.

His right elbow rested on the top of the rock, and his right legsupported the weight of his body. The lower half of the left leg wasslung across the other, the toe of the moccasin touching the earth. Theright hand dropped over the side of the rock, and lightly held the longbow which leaned against the same support. The posture was that ofelegant ease, and the best calculated to bring out in clear relief theApollo-like splendor of his figure. The luxuriant black hair streamingover the shoulders, the gaudy eagle feathers thrust in at the crown, thelustrous black eyes, the slightly Roman nose, the rows of colored beadsaround the neck, the dull yellow of the hunting shirt, the quiver ofarrows behind the right shoulder, the red sash, holding knife andtomahawk, the gold bracelet on the left wrist, the fringed border of hishunting shirt about the knees, the brilliant fringes to the leggings,the pretty moccasins, and the shapeliness of form, limb andfeature—all these made up the poetical Indian, which, sad to say, isalmost as rare among his race as the black diamond is in nature.

But such was Deerfoot the Shawanoe.

CHAPTER XV.

THE RETURN AND DEPARTURE.

Easy and negligent as was the posture assumed by Deerfoot the Shawanoe,his eyes were never at rest. Resting for a moment on the promontory,they darted to the right and left down the valley, and even took in theshifting clouds in the sky above. But it was the peak which riveted hisattention, and which was scrutinized with minute closeness until thegathering gloom shut it from sight.

It was not fairly dark when he kindled a fire on the very highest point,and then placing himself so far from it that the glare could notinterfere with his sight, he looked out in the night. The darkness wassuch that nothing could be seen beyond his immediate surroundings, buthe knew where to look for that which he expected and yet did not want tosee. For fully an hour the Shawanoe held his motionless attitude, gazingas fixedly to the southward as ever an eagle stared at the sun. Thenthat for which he was waiting appeared.

From the very crest of the distant mountain peak, a flaming arrowsuddenly began climbing toward the stars. Up, up it went, as does therocket on a summer night, going slower and slower, like an old manplodding up hill, until, wearied out, it paused, and, for one instantremained stationary in the air, as if doubtful whether to push on or tofall back. The flaming point swung over until it pointed toward theground, when it shot downward with ever increasing swiftness until itvanished. It must have struck within a yard of the spot from which ithad been driven upward.

It was very rarely that Deerfoot showed excitement. He had drawn hisknife and challenged the great Tec*mseh to mortal conflict, and he hadfaced death a score of times in the most dreadful shapes, but veryrarely, if ever, was his heart stirred as by the sight of the burningarrow on the distant mountain peak.

He straightened up with a quick inspiration, and his eyes followed thecourse of the fiery missile from the moment of its appearance until itvanished.

"They have called for Deerfoot!"

These were the remarkable words which fell from his lips, as he plungeddown the mountain side like one who knew a question of life and deathwas before him. Although Deerfoot had formed a friendship for JackCarleton and Otto Relstaub similar to that which he had felt for NedPreston and Wildblossom Brown, yet it must be admitted that they werenot the only ones to whom he was strongly attached, and in whose fate hefelt as deep an interest as in that of any human being—all of whichshall be made clear in another place and at another time.

It was just one week later that Deerfoot made his appearance near thesettlement, and, pausing at a point which commanded a view of thecollection of cabins, he spent several minutes in surveying them and thepioneers. He had traveled many miles, and been through some singularlystirring scenes since he last looked upon Martinsville, but the graciousBeing that had protected him all his life, did not desert him in hisextremity, and the frame was as supple and free from weakness or injuryas when he faced the other way.

When the burning arrow summoned Deerfoot down the mountain side, he wasglad indeed that he had decided the question whether or not he shouldhunt for the boys as he did, for, had he done otherwise, the opportunitythat has been described could not have come to him; but, when his dutywas ended, the old doubt came back, until he had been driven to returnin order that he might settle the question forever.

Looking down on the little settlement of Martinsville, he studied thecurious scene, for he was so close that he could identify every personwhom he knew. The settlement, as the reader has been told, consisted oftwo rows of log cabins, facing each other. They numbered about a score,and the street was fifty feet wide. Besides that, each cabin had thesame space between itself and its neighbor, so that, few as were thestructures, they were scattered over considerable ground.

This ground, as well as much of it beyond, had been well cleared, andthe earth cultivated. There were horses and oxen to draw plows and helpbear the burdens. Besides the hunters' cabins, there were storehouses,barns, and structures made for convenience or necessity. From most ofthe soil that had been overturned were sprouting corn, potatoes, andother vegetables. The time was not distant when the wilderness shouldblossom as the rose.

A block-house near the middle of the settlement had been half completed,when, so far as could be seen, the work was abandoned. The rule with thefrontier settlements was to put up a building in which all could takerefuge, should danger threaten; but often the fort was so hastily andpoorly made that it became a matter of weakness rather than of strength.Colonel Martin and his brother pioneers reached the conclusion that theywere showing altogether too much haste in rearing the structure, andthey deferred its completion to a more convenient season. Their duty totheir families, as they saw it, justified them in taking such a step,especially in view of the fact that the Indians of the surroundingcountry were not likely ever to cause them trouble.

The cleared land, as it was called, was still disfigured by numerousunsightly stumps, around which the rude plow was pulled; but here andthere men were working to remove them, and ultimately all would beuprooted and destroyed.

On the edge of the clearing, three woodsmen were swinging their axes andburying their keen edges in the hearts of the monarchs of the wood.Deerfoot looked at them several minutes, noticing as he had done before,with childish wonder, how long it took the sound caused by the blows toreach him. When one of the choppers stopped to breathe and leaned on hisaxe, the sound of two blows came to the listener, and when he resumedwork, the youth saw him in the act of striking the third time before thesound was heard.

The scene was one of activity and industry. Even the children seemed tohave work instead of play to occupy them. The women, as a matter ofcourse, were among the busiest, and rarely did one of them appear at thedoor of her cabin. When she did so, it was only for a very brief while.

Deerfoot was looking fixedly at one of the houses near the middle of thesettlement, when a squatty figure, with a conical hat, a heavy cane, andsmoking a pipe, came out and walked slowly toward a cabin only a shortdistance off. The Indian smiled in his momentary, shadowy fashion whenhe recognized Jacob Relstaub, whom he had frightened almost out of hiswits a week before. No doubt the German had told the incident manytimes afterward, and would always insist he escaped by a veritablehair's breadth.

But Deerfoot was troubled in mind, for among all whom he saw herecognized neither Jack Carleton nor Otto Relstaub. It was not likelythat, if they had returned from their hunt, both would continueinvisible very long; but when minute after minute passed without showingeither, his heart sank.

The Shawanoe knew a scene would be probable if Jacob Relstaub caughtsight of him, so he avoided the wrathful German. The appearance of thehandsome warrior moving among the cabins, naturally awakened someinterest. Men and children looked at him as he went by, and several ofthe latter followed him. Deerfoot saluted all whose eyes met his,calling out: "Good day; how is my brother?" in as excellent English asany of them could have employed.

The Indian, it may be supposed, was known to nearly every one byreputation. Most of the settlers had heard of his exploits when they andhe lived in Kentucky; they knew he guided Otto Relstaub and JackCarleton on their perilous journey from the Dark and Bloody Ground intoLouisiana; they were aware, too, that he could read and write, and wasone of the most sagacious and valuable friends the settlers ever had orcould have. The story which Jacob Relstaub told was therefore receivedwith much doubt, and no one who listened felt any distrust of theloyalty of the young Shawanoe. More than one declared on generalprinciples that Relstaub would have been served right had the warriorhandled him roughly, as it was well known he could have done had he beenso minded.

Deerfoot walked quietly along the primitive street until opposite thedoor of Widow Carleton's cabin. Without hesitation, he pulled the latchstring and stepped within. There was no start or change of expressionwhen he glanced about the apartment, but that single glance told him thestory.

Mrs. Carleton was standing at the table on the other side of the room,occupied with the dishes that had served at the morning meal. Her backwas toward the visitor, but she turned like a flash when she heard thedoor open. The scared, expectant, disappointed, and apprehensiveexpression that flitted over her countenance, like the passing of acloud across a summer landscape, made known the truth to the sagaciousShawanoe.

"Deerfoot's brother has not come back from his long hunt," he said, inhis usual voice, as he bowed and advanced to the middle of theapartment.

"O Deerfoot!" moaned the mother, as, with tremulous lip, she sank intothe nearest chair and looked pleadingly toward him, holding her apronready to raise to her eyes; "tell me where is my Jack!"

"My friend told Deerfoot that his brother had gone to hunt the horsethat has wandered off."

"But that was more than a week ago; he ought to have come back a goodwhile since. O Deerfoot——"

"But the horse has wandered many miles, and it will take my brother along time to find him," interrupted the visitor, who dreaded the scenewhich he saw was sure to come.

"Do you think they are still hunting for him?" she asked with a sudden,yearning eagerness that went to the heart of the Indian. He could notspeak an untruth, nor could he admit the great fear that almost stoppedthe beating of his heart.

"Deerfoot cannot answer his friend; but he hopes soon to take the handof his brother."

"Oh, that will never be—it can never be. My poor Jack!"

Her grief could be restrained no longer. The apron was abruptly raisedto the eyes, and as the white hands were pressed against the face herwhole frame shook with emotion. Deerfoot looked steadily at the pitifulscene, but he knew not what to say or do. It was a vivid illustration ofthis strange nature of ours that the youth, who absolutely knew not whatfear was, and who had seen the glittering tomahawk crash its way intothe brain without a throb of pity, now found his utmost self-commandhardly able to save him from breaking down as utterly as did the parentbefore him. He hastily swallowed the lump that kept rising in histhroat, blinked his eyes very rapidly, coughed, fidgeted on the benchwhereon he sat, and, finally, looked away and upward at the ruderafters, so as to avoid the sight of the sobbing woman.

"Deerfoot is a pappoose," he muttered angrily, "that he weeps when heknows not what for; he is a dog that whines before his master strikeshim."

A brief but resolute struggle gave him the mastery over his emotions,though for a few seconds he dared not look towards his hostess. When hetimidly ventured to do so, she was rubbing her eyes with the corner ofher apron. The tempest of grief had passed, and she was regainingmastery of herself, thereby rendering great help to the valiant warrior.

"I know that it may be possible that Jack and Otto have gone on a longerhunt than before, but they did not expect to be away more than three orfour days, and Jack would not willingly bring sorrow to his mother."

"My brother may have gone so far that he has lost his way, and is slowin finding it again."

"Do you think so, Deerfoot?"

The Indian fidgeted, but he could not avoid an answer.

"Deerfoot does not know; he cannot think right; he is in sore troublefor his brothers."

"No one can help them like you. O Deerfoot, won't you find my Jack andbring him home to me?"

The youthful warrior rose to his feet, and looking her in the face,spoke the words, "I will!" Then he turned and strode out of the door.

CHAPTER XVI.

A PERPLEXING QUESTION.

Deerfoot, the Shawanoe, had entered upon the most difficult task of hislife. He had undertaken to follow up and befriend the youths who haddisappeared more than a week previous, and who had left not theslightest clue as to where they had gone, nor what direction they hadtaken.

In these days, when a friend sets out to trace a person who is seekingto hide himself, he is always able to pick up some knowledge that willgive valuable help in his search. The habits of the individual, someintentions, or rather wishes, to which he may have given utterance along time before, his little peculiarities of manner, which are sure tobetray themselves, no matter how complete the disguise—these, and otherpoints, are certain to afford the help the hunter through the cities andtowns and country requires.

But my reader will observe the vast difference between a case such asoccurs every day, and that which confronted the young Indian. Two boyshad gone into the woods more than a week before, on a long hunt, andwere now missing; it was his task to find them. Could it be done?

Had Deerfoot taken up the pursuit shortly after the departure of theboys, he could have sped over their trail like a bloodhound. There couldhave been no escaping him; but since they left home, rain had fallen,and even that marvel of canine sagacity could not have trailed themthrough the wilderness. It was idle, therefore, for Deerfoot to seek forthat which did not exist; no trail was to be found; at least, none inthat neighborhood. In all his calculations, he did not build theslightest hope on that foundation. Had he done so, he would have soughtto take up the shadowy footprints from where the boys left thesettlement; but the utmost he did was to learn the general directiontaken by them, when they entered upon one of the wildest expeditionsthat can be imagined.

Hundreds and thousands of square miles of mountain and forest werespread out before him. The vast territory of Louisiana, as it was thencalled, stretched away to the Gulf of Mexico, and spread toward thesetting sun until stopped by the walls of the Rocky Mountains. The youthcould spend his life in wandering over that prodigious area, withoutcoming upon or gaining the slightest traces of a thousand people whom hemight wish to find. The conclusion was inevitable that he must pursuesome intelligent course, or he never could succeed.

It should be said that Deerfoot had not the slightest doubt of a gravemisfortune having befallen his friends. Jack Carleton never wouldwillingly remain from home for so long a period; he was too affectionatea son to grieve his mother by such a course. He and Otto Relstaub,therefore, were either prisoners in the hands of Indians, or they hadbeen put to death.

Just the faintest possible fear troubled the young Shawanoe. He recalledthe incidents which had marked the journey of himself and the boys fromKentucky, only a short time before. The Shawanoes, the fiercest and mostcunning of all the Indian tribes, had not only pursued them to theriver's edge, but had followed them across the Mississippi, comingwithin a hair's breadth of destroying the two boys who were making suchhaste toward Martinsville. Had any of those Shawanoes pushed the pursuitstill further? Had they lingered near the settlement, awaiting just suchan opportunity as was given by Jack and Otto when they went off on theirhunt?

This was the phase of the question which for a long time torturedDeerfoot. He felt that it was improbable that danger existed in thatshape. The Shawanoes had no special cause for enmity against the boys.If they should venture into Louisiana to revenge themselves upon anyone, it would be upon Deerfoot. Nothing was more certain than that hehad not been molested by any of his old enemies, for a good many dayspreviously, nor had they been anywhere near him during that period.

But the cunning Indian, like his shrewd white brother, may do the verything least expected. Might they not capture and make off with the boys,for the very purpose of leading Deerfoot on a long pursuit, in which theadvantage would be wholly against him?

But the field of conjecture thus opened was limitless. Deerfoot mighthave spent hours in theorizing and speculating, and still have been asfar from the truth as at the beginning; he might have formed schemes,perfect in every detail, only to find, on investigation, that they werewrong in every particular. The elaborate structures which the detectiverears are often builded on sand, and tumble to fragments on theslightest touch.

Deerfoot was convinced that the boys either were captives in the handsof Indians, or they were dead. Had they been slain by red men—and itwas not conceivable that both could have met death in any other way—itwas useless to hunt for their remains, since only fortunate chance couldend a search that might last a century.

But if the boys had been carried off, there was hope of gaining trace ofthem, though that might involve endless wanderings to and fro, throughthe mountains and wilderness. Such a hunt, prosecuted on a systematicplan for a certain time, without any results, would satisfy Deerfootthat the boys, like many older ones, had met their death in the lonelydepths of the wilderness, where no human eye would ever look upon themagain.

My reader, who has been let into the secret of the boys' disappearance,will perceive that Deerfoot was hovering around the truth, though he wasstill barred by difficulties almost insurmountable.

Suppose he should make up his mind that Jack and Otto were at thatmoment with the red men, in what manner—except by an almostinterminable search—could he learn what tribe held them prisoners?

In the autumn of 1778, Frances Slocum, a little girl five years old, wasstolen from her home in Wyoming Valley, and carried away by DelawareIndians. For a period of fifty-nine years the search for her wasprosecuted with more or less earnestness. Thousands of dollars werespent, scores of persons were engaged at the same time in the hunt,journeys were made among the Western tribes, friendly Indians themselveswere enlisted in the work, and yet, although the searchers were oftenwithin a few miles of her, they never picked up the first clue. Afterthe lapse of more than half a century, when all hope had been abandonedby the surviving friends, the whereabouts of the woman became known,through an occurrence that was as purely an accident as was anythingthat ever took place in this world.

Admitting the unapproachable woodcraft and skill of the young Shawanoe,yet he could not do the impossible. Could he be spared a hundred years,possibly he might make the grand round of his people on the Americancontinent, but in the meantime, what of his friends for whom he would bemaking this extended tour?

If so it should be that the boys were in the power of the Shawanoes, orMiamis, or Delawares, they were far to the east of the Mississippi; ifwith the Wyandots, they were also east of the Father of Waters, andprobably in the vicinity of Lake Erie; if with the Ojibwas, to thenorthward along Lake Huron; if with the Ottawas, they were the samedistance north, but on the shores of Lake Michigan; if with thePottawatomies, further south on the same lake; if in the villages of theKickapoos, or Winnebagoes, or Menomonies, it was on the southern andwestern shores of the same body of water; if with the Ottigamies, orSacs, or Foxes, or in the land of the Assinoboine, the hunt must be ofthe most prolonged character.

Still further, the vast bulk of the western continent stretched westwardtoward the Pacific. When Deerfoot faced the setting sun, he knew he waslooking over the rim of one of the grandest countries of the globe. Hehad fair ideas of the vast prairies, enormous streams, prodigiousmountains and almost illimitable area, which awaited the development ofthe coming centuries.

One other suggestive fact was known to Deerfoot: representatives of theIndian tribes among the foothills of the Rocky Mountains had exchangedshots with the white explorers on the banks of the Mississippi. It is anerror to suppose that the American savage confines his wanderings to alimited space. The majority do so, but, as I have said, the raceproduces in its way its quota of venturesome explorers, who now and thenare encountered many hundreds of miles from home.

Within the preceding few weeks, Deerfoot had met two warriors among theOzark mountains, who, he saw at a glance, came from a long distance andprobably had never before been in that section. Neither they norDeerfoot could speak a word the other could understand, but the signlanguage is universal among the North American Indians, and they weresoon conversing like a party of trained mutes.

To the amazement of the young Shawanoe, he learned they were on theirway to the Mississippi. They either would not or could not make cleartheir errand, but Deerfoot suspected it was that of gaining a glimpse ofthe civilization which as yet had not appeared in the West. Though thestrangers were somewhat shy and suspicious, they offered no harm to theyoung Shawanoe, who, of course, showed only friendship toward them. Fromthem he gained not a little rude information of the marvelous regionwhich has since become familiar to the world.

The fear, therefore, of Deerfoot was that some wandering band from theextreme West had captured the boys, and were at that very hour pushingtoward the Pacific with them. It would require a long, long time tolearn the truth, which, in all probability, would prove a bitterdisappointment.

From what has been said in this fragmentary manner, the reader may gainan idea of the almost infinite difficulties by which Deerfoot wasconfronted. Like a trained detective, however, he saw that much valuabletime had been lost and a start must be made without further delay; and,furthermore, that the first step must be based on something tangible, orit would come to naught. The element of chance plays a leading part insuch problems, and it may be questioned whether luck is not often a morepowerful helper than skill.

After leaving the settlement, Deerfoot naturally climbed to the nearestelevation which gave a view of the surrounding country, and it was whilehe was looking over the scene that his thoughts took the turn indicatedby the preceding part of this chapter.

It may be said that that for which he was searching was a startingpoint. "Where shall I begin?" was the question which remained unanswereduntil the sun was half way to meridian.

The principal view of the young warrior was to the south and west, forthe conviction was strong that thither he must look for the shadowy cluewhich he prayed might lead him to success. Several miles southward acamp-fire was burning, as was shown by the bluish vapor that seemed tostand still against the clear sky; the same distance to the southeastwas a slighter evidence of another camp-fire, while to the southwest wasstill another, the vapor so thin and faint that the experienced eye ofthe Shawanoe told him the party spending the previous night there hadgone early in the morning, leaving the fire to burn itself slowly out.

Evidently the thing for Deerfoot to do was to visit one or all of thecamps in quest of the clue which the chances were a thousand to one hewould never find. Which should he first seek?

The bravest of men has a tinge of superstition in his nature, and withall of Deerfoot's daring and profoundly devout nature, he was assuperstitious in some respects as a child. He could not decide by meansof his Bible the precise course to follow, for one of his principles wasthat he alone must determine his precise course of action, the GreatSpirit holding him accountable only for the manner in which he did, orsought to do, that which he clearly saw was his duty.

The hunting knife was whipped from his girdle, and, holding the pointbetween his thumb and finger, he flung it a rod above his head. Itturned over and over in going up and descending, and, when it struckthe ground, landed on the hilt. Deerfoot looked down on the implementand saw that the point was turned toward the camp-fire which wasfurthest west.

CHAPTER XVII.

TWO ACQUAINTANCES AND FRIENDS.

The question was settled. Nothing short of positive knowledge could haveled Deerfoot to change his mind as to the right course to pursue.

Stooping over, he picked up his hunting knife, thrust it in his girdle,and strode down the slope in the direction of the camp, which he knewwas deserted early that morning. It was a long way to travel, but it wasnothing to the lissome warrior, who would have broken into a run couldhe have felt any assurance of gaining any benefit by doing so.

Climbing around the boulders and rocks, leaping over chasms, pushingthrough matted undergrowth, and turning aside only when forced to do so,Deerfoot pressed to the southwest until three-fourths of the distancewas passed. Most of that time the shadowy vapor had been beyond sight,for he did not take the trouble to look for it when the interveningvegetation interfered. He could not make any mistake as to the rightcourse, and it was therefore unnecessary for him to take his bearings;but now, when he knew he could not be far from his destination, he cameto the surface, as it may be said of a diver in an emerald sea, andindulged in a deliberate survey of his surroundings.

The first glance at the camp caused his eyes to sparkle, for it conveyedan interesting fact: instead of the smoke being so thin that it wasscarcely visible, it was much denser and more plenteous. That simplyshowed that the camp was no longer a deserted one. Whoever had gone awayin the morning had returned, and was at that moment on the ground. Morethan likely there were several of them, and, as the day was half gone,they were preparing their noontide meal.

At any rate the Shawanoe was sure to find some one there, and hehastened his footsteps, though he could feel but slight hope thatwhatever he saw or learned would have a bearing on the business in whichhis whole soul was engaged.

Deerfoot approached the camp with his usual caution, his suppositionbeing that a company of Indians were resting there for a brief time. Ifthey were Osages, or, indeed, any other tribe, except Hurons orWyandots, he would not hesitate to go forward and greet them, for thereought to be no danger incurred in doing so. The same would be the casewith the whites, though some care might be necessary to convince them notreachery was intended.

The first glimpse showed the Indian that only a single white man waspresent. He was preparing dinner, the preliminary step being a stirringof the smoldering camp-fire, which gave forth the tell-tale smoke. Hewas a striking individual, though a stranger to Deerfoot.

The fire itself was small, and was burning in an open space where thewhole neighborhood served as a chimney. Several feet off was ahalf-decayed log, on which the man was sitting, his elbows on his knees,and a long stick held loosely in his hands. This he used as a poker, andit served his purpose well. A close approach to the fire was apt to beunpleasant on account of the heat, so he sat a short distance off, andmanaged things in a comfortable fashion. Now and then he poked theembers until the end of the vegetable poker broke into a blaze, when hewithdrew it and whipped it on the ground till the flame was put out. Hisrifle leaned against an adjoining tree within easy distance, and theshort clay pipe in his mouth, from which he sent out an occasional puff,added to his apparently peaceful frame of mind.

The striking point about the hunter was his magnificent physicalmanhood. He was more than six feet high, with immense shoulders andchest, an enormous beard of a coal black color, which grew almost to hiskeen black eyes, and descended over his chest in a silken, wavy mass. Hewas attired in the ordinary hunting costume of the border, and looked asif he might be one of those men who had spent their lives in theLouisiana wilderness, hunting and trapping animals for their peltries,which were sold at some of the advanced posts of civilization.

Deerfoot suspected the man was the owner of a horse which must be in thevicinity, for it was hardly likely that he would wander aimlessly aroundin the mountains and woods for the mere sake of doing so, but no animalcould be seen, and without speculating long over the matter, the youngShawanoe walked forward to the camp.

While doing so, the stranger was giving his full attention to the fireand his culinary duties. The wood had burned until there were enoughcoals, when he arose and raked them apart, so as to afford a surface ofglowing embers. Then he turned back and took up a huge slice of meat,which had been skewered on the prongs of a long stick. Balancing thisvery cleverly, he held the meat down until it was almost against thecrimson coals. He could have done the same with the blaze, but hepreferred this method.

Almost instantly the meat began to crisp and scorch and shrink, and togive off an odor which would have tortured a hungry man. The cookquickly exposed the other side to the heat, reversing several times,when the venison was cooked in as appetizing a form as could be wished.

The man gave such close attention to his task that he never turned hishead to observe the figure of an Indian warrior standing only a rod ortwo away. Having finished his work, he carefully spread the meat on somegreen oak leaves, arranged on the log. Its size was such that itsuggested a door mat burned somewhat out of shape.

"There," said the hunter, with a contented expression, seating himselfas if to guard the prize against disturbance; "the boys can't growl overthat—hello, where'd you come from?"

He had caught sight of Deerfoot, advancing noiselessly toward him, andthe man was startled (though he strove to conceal it) by the fact thatthe other was nearer to his rifle than was the owner.

The Indian saluted him in his courteous fashion, and with a view ofremoving his fears, walked on until the relative position of him and theman were changed, and the latter was nearer his gun.

Then he paused, retaining his standing position, and with a slightsmile, said:

"Deerfoot is glad that his brother is not ill."

Undoubtedly that brother was relieved to find in case of dispute hecould reach his gun before the dusky youth, but he could hardly believethe warrior voluntarily gave up the enormous advantage thus held for amoment or two. Throwing his shoulders back, he looked straight in theeyes of Deerfoot, and then rising to his feet, extended his hand. As ifconscious of his superior height, he towered aloft and looked down onthe graceful youth who met his gaze with a confiding expression thatwould have won the heart of any one.

The abundant beard hid the mouth of the white man, but the movement ofthe cheeks, the gathering wrinkles under the eyes, and the gleam of hiswhite teeth through the black meshes, showed he was smiling. Instead ofsaluting in the usual fashion, he brought his hand down with a flourish,and grasping the palm of the youth pressed it with a vigor which madehim wince.

"So you're Deerfoot, are you? I mean the young Shawanoe that used tohunt through Kentucky and Missouri."

The Indian nodded his head to signify that he was the individual whomthe other had in mind.

"I'm Burt Hawkins—you remember me?" asked he, still pumping the arm ofDeerfoot, who was compelled to admit he had never before heard the name,nor could he remember ever having looked upon his face.

"Well, you have done so, whether you remember it or not: three yearsago, which, I reckon, was about the time you began tramping through thewoods for the benefit of the white man, I was on a scout with Kenton andsome of the boys, over in Kentucky. We got caught in a blinding snowstorm, and all came near going under with a rush. Things got so bad thatKenton said we would have to give up, for, tough as he was, he wasweakening. The snow was driving so hard you couldn't see six feet infront of you. Cold! Well, the wind was of that kind that it went rightthrough your bones as though it was a knife. Night was coming on, and wewere in the middle of the woods, twenty miles from everywhere. The onlything we could do was to let out a yell once in a while, and fire offour guns. I don't think there was one among the five that had the firstgrain of hope. Kenton was leading and I was at his heels; all I couldsee was his tall figure, covered from head to foot with snow, as heplodded along with the grit he always showed.

"The first thing I knowed some one j'ined us—a young, likely lookingInjin, which his name was Deerfoot. He had heard our guns and droppeddown from somewhere. You're grinning, old chap, so I guess there ain'tmuch use of telling the rest, 'cause you know it. I'll never forget howyou led us into that cave, where you had fixed up the logs and bark sothat no snow flakes couldn't get in. There was a fire burning, and somebuffalo meat cooking, and we couldn't have been better fixed if we hadbeen lodged with Colonel Preston at Live Oaks or in St. Louis."

"Deerfoot has not forgotten," said the smiling Indian, seating himselfbeside Hawkins on the log; "but my brother did not look then as he looksnow."

Again the head of the trapper was thrown back, his white teeth shonethrough his immense whiskers, the wrinkles gathered at the corner of hiseyes, and his musical laugh rang out from the capillary depths. Burt wasproud of his beard, as he well might be. Few people in those days woresuch an ornament, and those who did so were sure to attract attention.

"You talk like a level-headed gentleman, Deerfoot, for all this (here hestroked the glossy whiskers) has grown since then. I shouldn't wonder ifit did change my looks somewhat. You're a blamed smart redskin,Deerfoot," added Burt, who seemed to be in high spirits; "but I don'tbelieve you can beat it."

It was the turn of Deerfoot to laugh, and he did so with muchheartiness, though without any noise.

"No; the hair of Deerfoot grows on his head; he would be sad if itcovered his face."

"So would I, for it would make a confounded queer looking creatur' ofyou. I would like to see an Injin got up in that style; just think ofTec*mseh with a big mustache and whiskers! Beavers!"

The conceit was equally enjoyed by Deerfoot, who fairly shook withmirth. He recalled the time when he confronted the mighty chieftain,with drawn knife and compressed lips, and the picture of that terriblebeing, with his face covered by whiskers, was a drop from the sublime tothe ridiculous, which would have brought a laugh to any one.

Burt Hawkins evidently held his visitor in esteem, for, reaching out hishorny hand, he gently passed his fingers over the cheek nearest him, andthen drew it across the chin.

"No; there's no beard there. It's as smooth as the cheeks of my littlefive-year old Peggy at home. It always struck me as qu'ar that Injinsdon't have beards, but I s'pose it's because the old fellows, severalthousand years ago, began plucking out the hairs that came on the face,and their children have kept it up so long that it has discouraged theindustry in them regions. See?"

To assist Deerfoot to catch the force of his illustration, Burt gave himseveral digs in the ribs. This familiarity would have been annoyingunder most circ*mstances, but it was manifest from the manner of thewarrior that he rather enjoyed the effusiveness of the magnificentfellow.

"Why is my brother in the woods alone?" he asked, when matters calmeddown.

"I can't say I'm exactly alone, Deerfoot, for Kit Kellogg and TomCrumpet ain't fur off, and that meat thar is gettin' cold waiting forthem to come and gobble it; if they ain't here in a few minutes you andme will insert our teeth. We've been trappin' all winter down to thesouth'rd and have got a good pile of peltries; we've got 'em gathered,and loaded, too, and are on our way to St. Louis with 'em; warm weatheris comin', and the furs are beginnin' to get poor, so we shall hang ourharps on the willers till cold weather begins agin."

"My brothers are coming," said Deerfoot, quietly, referring to two otherhunters who at that moment put in an appearance.

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE TRAPPERS.

The new arrivals resembled Burt Hawkins in their dress andaccoutrements. They wore coon-skin caps, hunting dress, leggings, coarseshoes, etc., and each carried a long rifle and hunting knife as hisweapons. They were rugged, powerful fellows, whose long experience inthe wilderness had given them a knowledge of its ways and mysteries,beyond that of ordinary men. They were hardy and active, with thefaculties of hearing, seeing and smelling cultivated to a point almostincredible. They contrasted with Hawkins in one respect; both wore theirfaces smooth. Although far removed from civilization, they keptthemselves provided with the means of shaving their cheeks. Perhapsthrough indifference, their beards were sometimes allowed to grow forweeks, but they made sure they were in presentable shape when they rodeinto the trading post of St. Louis, with their peltries, and, receivingpay therefor, joined their families in that frontier town.

The three men had been hunters and trappers for many years. Sometimesthey pursued their work alone, and sometimes in the company of others.They trapped principally for beavers and otters, though they generallybagged a few foxes and other fur-bearing animals. A hundred years ago,there were numerous beaver runs in the central portions of our country,and for a long time many men were employed in gathering their valuablefurs, hundred and thousands of which were brought from the mountainstreams and solitudes of the West to St. Louis, whence they were senteastward and distributed.

The trapper's pursuit has always been a severe one, for, aside from thefierce storms, sudden changes, and violent weather, the men as a rulewere exposed to the rifles of lurking Indians, who resented theintrusion of any one into their territory. And yet there was anattraction about the solitary life, far beyond the confines ofcivilization, which took men from their families and buried them in thewilderness, frequently for years at a time. It is not difficult tounderstand the fascination which kept Daniel Boone wandering for monthsthrough the woods and cane-brakes of Kentucky, without a singlecompanion and with the Indians almost continually at his heels.

When Burt Hawkins and his two friends left St. Louis, late in summer orearly in the fall, each rode a mule or horse, besides having two packanimals to carry their supplies and peltries. They followed some faintlymarked trail, made perhaps by the hoofs of their own animals, and didnot reach their destination for several weeks. When they halted, it wasamong the tributaries of the Missouri, which have their rise in theOzark range in the present State of Missouri.

The traps and implements which from time to time were taken westward,were not, as a matter of course, brought back, for that would haveencumbered their animals to no purpose. When warm weather approached andthe fur bearers began shedding their hair, the traps were gathered andstowed away until needed again in the autumn. Then the skins that hadbeen taken from time to time through the winter, were brought forth andstrapped on the backs of the animals, and the journey homeward wasbegun. There was no trouble for the trappers to "float their sticks,"as the expression went; for the Northwest Fur Company and other wealthycorporations had their agents in St. Louis and at other points, wherethey were glad to buy at liberal prices all the peltries within reach.

No trapper was likely to accumulate wealth by the method named, but itcost him little to live, and frequently during the summer he found someother employment that brought return for his labor.

Hawkins, Kellogg and Crumpet were on their way home, having started alittle later than their custom, and they had reached the point referredto on the preceding night, when they halted and went into camp. In themorning, when they began to reload their animals, it was found that arifle belonging to Kit Kellogg was missing. It had been strapped on thepackage which one of the mules carried, but had worked loose and fallenunnoticed to the ground. It was too valuable to be abandoned, and Kitand Crumpet started back to hunt for it. They went on foot, leaving theanimals cropping some succulent grass a short distance away.

The quadrupeds underwent a hard time during the winter, when grass wasscanty, so that such halts were appreciated by them. The spot where theywere grazing was far enough removed to screen them from the sight ofDeerfoot, when he was reconnoitering the camp. While two of the companywere hunting for the weapon, the third remained behind, smoking hispipe, and, when the time came, prepared dinner against the return of theother ones. The meat was good, but not so delicate as the beaver tailson which they frequently feasted during the cold season.

It has been said more than once that the Indians along the western bankof the Mississippi were less aggressive than those who so oftencrimsoned the soil of Kentucky and Ohio with the blood of the pioneers.Such was the truth, but those who were found on the very outermostfringe of civilization, from far up toward the headwaters of theYellowstone down to the Gulf, were anything but harmless creatures. Asthe more warlike tribes in the East were pushed over into that region,they carried their vindictive natures with them, and the reader knowstoo well the history of the great West to require anything further tobe said in that direction.

When Hawkins went to the beaver-runs with his friends in the autumnpreceding his meeting with Deerfoot, he had as his companions, besidesthe two named, a third—Albert Rushton, who, like the others, was aveteran trapper. One snowy day in mid-winter, when the weather wasunusually severe, he started on his round of his division of the trapsand never came back. His prolonged absence led to a search, and his deadbody was found beside one of the demolished traps. The bullet holethrough his forehead and the missing scalp that had been torn from hiscrown, told plainly the manner of his death.

This was a shocking occurrence, but the fate of Rushton was that towhich every one of his friends was liable, and they did not sit down andrepine over what could not be helped. The saddest thought connected withthe matter was that one of the three must break the news to the invalidwife, who lived with her two children in one of the frontier settlementsthrough which they passed on the way to St. Louis.

When Deerfoot told Hawkins the others were returning, the trapperturned his head and saw that Kellogg had found the missing rifle. Thecouple looked sharply at the warrior as they advanced, and evidentlywere surprised to see him in camp. Kellogg and Crumpet were men inmiddle life, strong limbed, sinewy and vigilant.

Deerfoot rose from the log whereon he was sitting, and extended his handto each in turn, as Hawkins pronounced his name. Kit Kellogg scrutinizedhim and shook his hand with considerable warmth. Crumpet did the same,though with less cordiality in his manner. It was plain (and plainer tonone than Deerfoot) that he was one of that numerous class offrontiersmen who regard the American Indian as an unmitigated nuisance,which, so far as possible, every white man should do his utmost toabate. He had been engaged in more than one desperate encounter withthem and his hatred was of the most ferocious nature. It was not to beexpected, however, that his detestation would show itself without regardto time and place. Kellogg and Hawkins watched him with some curiosity,as he extended his horny hand and shook that of the handsome Indianyouth.

"You've heard of Deerfoot," added Burt, as he proceeded to divide theenormous piece of meat into quarters; "he is the youngster that helpedColonel Preston and his friends from the Wyandots at the time theblock-house was burned."

"How should we hear of it," asked Crumpet with a growl, "when we was onthis side of the Mississippi?"

"Wasn't I over in Kentucky about three years ago? I rather think I was,and would have been froze to death with Simon Kenton and a few of theother boys if it hadn't been for this copper-colored rascal—ain't thatso, Deerfoot?"

And that the young warrior might not err as to the one who was expectedto impart light on the subject, Burt gave him a resounding whack on theshoulder that almost knocked him off the log. The youth was in the actof conveying some of the meat to his mouth when saluted in that fashion,and it came like the shock of an earthquake.

"Why can't you talk with a fellow," asked Kellogg, "without breaking hisneck?"

"Whose neck is broke?"

"Why that fellow's is pretty well jarred."

"Well, as long as he don't object I don't see what it is to you,"was the good-natured response of Hawkins, who resumed chewing the juicymeat.

"Some of these days, somebody will give you a whack in return when youain't expecting it, and it will be a whack too that will cure you ofthat sort of business. I believe, Deerfoot, that you are a Shawanoe,ain't you?"

"Deerfoot is a Shawanoe," was the answer, his jaws at work on the foodjust furnished him.

"I've heard tell of you; you're the chap that always uses a bow andarrow instead of a gun?"

The youth answered the query by a nod of the head. As he did so, TomCrumpet, who sat further away, vigorously working his jaws, uttered acontemptuous grunt. Kit turned his head and looked inquiringly at him.

"Maybe you think he can't use the bow and arrow. I s'pose, Deerfoot,that's the bow you fired the arrow through the window of the block-housethat was nigh a hundred yards off, with a letter tied around it, andfired it agin out on the flatboat with another piece of paper twistedaround it—isn't that so?"

Despite his loose-jointed sentences, Deerfoot caught his meaning wellenough to nod his head in the affirmative.

"Did you see it done?" asked Crumpet, with a grin at Hawkins.

"How could I see it when I wasn't there?"

"I guess no one else was there," growled Tom; "I've noticed wheneverthat sort of business is going on it's always a good ways off, and thepeople as sees it are the kind that don't amount to much in the way oftelling the truth."

These were irritating words, made more so by the contemptuous manner inwhich they were spoken. Deerfoot clearly understood their meaning, buthe showed no offence because of them. He was not vain of his wonderfulskill in woodcraft, and, though he had a fiery temper, which sometimesflashed to the surface, he could not be disturbed by any slurs upon hisattainments.

Kit Kellogg was impatient with his companion, but he knew him so wellthat he did not discuss the matter. Had not the beard of Burt Hawkinshidden his countenance, the others would have perceived the flush whichoverspread it. He was angered, and said, hotly:

"It might do for some folks to say that other folks didn't tell thetruth, but I don't think you're the one to say it."

Crumpet champed his meat in silence, using his hunting knife for forkand knife, and drinking water from the tin cup which he had filled ashort distance away, and from which the others, excepting Deerfoot, alsodrank. Instead of answering the slur of Hawkins, he acted as though hedid not fully catch his meaning, and did not care to learn. What he hadsaid, however, rankled in the heart of Burt, who, holding his peaceuntil all were through eating, addressed the surly fellow:

"If you doubt the skill of Deerfoot, I'll make you a wager that he canoutshoot you, you using your gun and he his bow and arrow, or you canboth use a gun."

"He might do all that," said Kellogg, with a twinkle of the eye, "and itwouldn't prove that Tom was any sort of a marksman."

Crumpet was able to catch the meaning of that remark, and it goaded himalmost to the striking point.

CHAPTER XIX.

DEERFOOT'S WOODCRAFT.

Neither Deerfoot nor the trapper wished to engage in the trial of skillsuggested by Burt Hawkins. Crumpet feared that if such a test took placehe would be worsted, in which event he would never hear the last of itfrom his friends. He might well shrink, therefore, from such a contest.

The Shawanoe knew he could surpass the trapper if he exerted himself, ashe most certainly would do. Crumpet's ill-nature would be embittered,and matters were likely to take an unpleasant shape. When Hawkins turnedtoward him, therefore, expecting him to bound to his feet and invite thechallenge, he shook his head:

"Deerfoot's arrows are few, and he saves them for game or his enemies."

"And therein is wise," added Kellogg, shrewd enough to see the situationin all its bearings.

Crumpet said nothing, but was greatly relieved, while Hawkins gave asniff of disgust.

"Some folks are very free with their tongues, but when you come down tobusiness they ain't there; howsumever, let that go; we've got our extrarifle, and I s'pose we might as well keep up the tramp toward St. Louis.Deerfoot, can't you go with us?"

He shook his head, and said:

"Deerfoot is hunting for two friends who are lost; he must not sleep nortarry on the way."

"How is that?" asked Burt, while the others listened with interest. Theyoung Shawanoe told, in his characteristic manner, the story which isalready well known to the reader. While doing so he watched eachcountenance closely, hoping (though he could give no reason for suchhope) to catch some sign of a shadowy knowledge of that for which he wasseeking, but he was disappointed.

"One thing is sartin," remarked Burt Hawkins, when the story was fullytold, "them boys ain't dead."

"I agree with you," said Kellogg, with an emphatic nod of the head, inwhich even the surly Crumpet joined. Deerfoot was surprised at thisunanimity, and inquired of Hawkins his reason for his belief.

"'Cause it's agin common sense; when two young men go out in the woodsto hunt game, both of 'em ain't going to get killed: that isn't thefashion now-a-days. One of 'em might be hurt, but if that was so, andthe other couldn't get away, the Injins would take him off and keep him.More than likely the varmints carried away both, and if you make a goodhunt for three or four thousand miles around, you'll get track of 'em."

"I think I know a better plan than that," said Kellogg, and, as theothers looked inquiringly toward him, he said, "both of them chaps havebeen took by Injins who'll keep them awhile. One of these days the boyswill find a chance to give 'em the slip, and they'll leave on some darknight and strike for home."

"It isn't likely both 'll have a show to do that at the same time," saidCrumpet, speaking with more courtesy than he had yet shown, andmanifesting much interest in the matter.

"No; one will have to leave a good while before the other, and then theone that is left will be watched that much sharper, but all he's got todo is to bide his time."

"When one of my brothers comes through the woods to his home, the otherwill come with him," said Deerfoot, confident as he was that neitherJack Carleton nor Otto Relstaub would desert the other, when placed inany kind of danger.

Deerfoot was confirmed in his theory of the disappearance of his youngfriends, for it agreed with what he had formed after leaving thesettlement that morning. But, admitting it was the correct theory, thevast difficulty of locating the boys still confronted him. They might bejourneying far southward in the land of the Creeks and Chickasaws, or tothe homes of the Dacotah in the frozen north, or westward toward theRocky Mountains.

Kellogg and Crumpet now fell into an earnest discussion of the question,for, though agreeing in the main, they differed on minor points, inwhich each was persistent in his views. Deerfoot listened to every word,for, like a wise man, he was anxious to gain all the knowledge he couldfrom others.

But he noticed that for several minutes Burt Hawkins took no part in theconversation. He had sat down again on the log, thrown one leg overanother, and was slowly stroking his handsome beard, while his gaze wasfixed on the ground in front. He was evidently in deep thought.

Such was the fact, and just as the lull came, he reached his conclusion.Deliberately rising to his full height, he walked over to where Deerfootstood, and with another slap on his shoulder, said:

"See here, young man!"

The warrior faced him, earnest, attentive, and interested. Burt shiftedthe weight of his body, so that it rested on his right leg; he lookeddown in the eyes of Deerfoot, his brow wrinkled as in the case when aman is about to deliver himself of the most important and originalthoughts of his life. Then he began wabbling the index finger of hisright hand in the face of the warrior, as a man with the important andoriginal thought is inclined to do. He commenced to wabble quite slowly,gradually increasing the amplitude of the vibrations, and passing hisfinger so close to the countenance of the Shawanoe that it seemedalmost to graze the end of his nose. He spoke slowly, pointing his wordswith his swaying finger:

"Deerfoot, I've got the question answered; listen to me: them boys havebeen tooken away by Injins; I know it; now where have the Injins gone?You ought to know as much about your race as me, but you don't; do whatI tell you; go to the south till you come to some Injin village; makeyour inquiries there; if they haven't got the boys, they'll know whetherthe tribe that took 'em passed through their country, 'cause theycouldn't very well do so without some of their warriors finding it out.If none of them don't know nothing about no such party, you can make upyour mind you're barking up the wrong tree; then take an excursion westand do the same thing; then, if you don't learn anything, try toward thenorth; there ain't any use in going eastward, for common sense willteach you they haint been tooken that way; a chap with your good sensewill pick up some clue that'll show you the way through."

"My brother speaks the words of wisdom," said Deerfoot, who was muchimpressed by the utterances of the trapper: "Deerfoot will not forgetwhat he has said; he will carry his words with him and they shall be hisguide; Deerfoot says good-bye."

And with a courteous salute to the three, the young warrior walked a fewsteps, broke into a light run, and was out of sight before his intentionwas fairly understood. The trappers looked in each others' faces,laughed, made some characteristic remarks, and then turned to their ownbusiness.

Deerfoot the Shawanoe had determined to follow the advice given by BurtHawkins the trapper. It certainly was singular that such anextraordinary woodman as the Indian should profit by the counsel of awhite man, even though he was a veteran; but Deerfoot had studied theproblem so long that his brain was confused, and, having fixed his ownline of conduct, he only needed the endorsem*nt of some sturdy characterlike the hunter. He had received that endorsem*nt, and now he could notuse too much haste.

His intention was to journey rapidly southward, in the direction of thepresent State of Arkansas, until he should reach some of the Indianvillages that were there a hundred years ago. He would push hisinquiries among them, just as Burt Hawkins had suggested, pressing thesearch in other directions, until able to pick up some clue. After that,it would be an easy matter to determine the line of policy that wouldlead to success.

Any one engaged in such a task as that on which the young Shawanoe hadentered, needs to take all the observations he can, for the knowledgethus gained is sure to be of great help. The Indian scanned the countryopening to the southward, and, as was his custom, turned his face towardthe first elevation which would give him the view he was so desirous ofobtaining.

The elevation was similar to those with which the reader became familiarlong ago, and the sun had not yet reached the horizon when the lithewarrior had climbed to the crest of the ridge, and was scanning thewilderness which opened to the south and west. He was in a region wherehe was warranted in looking for Indian villages, and his penetratingeyes traveled over the area with a minuteness of search hardlyimaginable by the reader. The country was so broken by mountain, hill,and wood, that the survey was much less extended than would be supposed.He was disappointed in one respect, however: he could detect no Indianvillage in the whole range of vision.

But, besides the dim smoke from the camp he had left a short timebefore, he observed another to the westward, and a third to the south;he concluded to make his way to the last, though he half suspected itwas the camp of another party of trappers, from whom he could not gatherthe first morsel of information.

Deerfoot pushed toward the valley, less than a mile distant, from whichthe tell-tale vapor ascended, and was quite close to the camp, when hebecame aware that an altogether unexpected state of affairs existed.Despite his usual caution, his approach was detected, and the Shawanoefound himself in no little peril.

It is difficult, if not impossible, to make clear how it was Deerfootdiscovered this singular state of affairs; but he was more than ahundred yards from the camp, which was screened by a dense undergrowthand rocks, when he stopped abruptly, warned to do so by that subtleinstinct which is like a sixth sense.

He did not leap behind a tree, nor fall on his face and creep to therear of the large boulder on his right, but he stood erect, using thefaculties of hearing and sight with a delicate power and unerring skillwhich were marvelous in the highest degree.

The black eyes glanced around, as he slowly turned his head from side toside, and he saw everything in front, rear, at his right, left, andabove, among the limbs and on the ground. He heard the silken rustlingof several leaves in the top of a beach overhead, and he knew it wascaused by one of those slight puffs of wind which make themselves knownin that manner.

The inhalation through his nostrils brought the faint odor of the elm,the oak, the hickory, the chestnut, the sycamore, and the resinous pine.He identified them, I say, as well as the peculiar and indescribableodor given off by the decaying leaves, the mossy rocks, and even therotting twigs and branches; but among them all he detected nothing of aforeign nature.

But it was his hearing upon which he mainly depended, though his eyeswere forced to their highest skill. When the pinnated leaf of a hickorywas shaken loose by the wind puff it had hardly floated from its stembefore he caught sight of it, and followed it in its downward courseuntil it fluttered slowly to the ground.

It may be said that the danger which threatened Deerfoot was "in theair," if it be conceivable that there is anything in the expression. Hewas as certain of it as he was of his own existence, and yet he stoodmotionless, displaying an incredible confidence in his ability todiscover the nature of the peril before it could take effective shape.

Had he leaped lightly behind a tree, he might have placed himself on theside which would have left him exposed to the stealthy shot; had hedropped to the ground and crept to one side of the moss-covered boulder,the same fatal mistake was likely to be made. Therefore he stood asrigid as iron, until he could learn the direction from which he wasthreatened.

A rustling no louder than that made by the oscillation of a falling leafcame from a point some distance ahead and on his right. So soft indeedwas the sound that it cannot be explained how the human ear could betrained to the point of hearing it.

But it was that for which Deerfoot the Shawanoe was waiting, and it gavehim the knowledge he sought.

CHAPTER XX.

SAUK AND SHAWANOE.

At the instant the almost inaudible rustling struck the ear of Deerfootthe Shawanoe, he caught sight of a rifle barrel as it was thrust amongthe undergrowth and aimed at him. It was the faintest possible sound,caused by the pushing aside of the leaves which he heard, and which hewas expecting for a full minute to hear. The lightning-like glance casttoward the point showed him the dark barrel, and the ferocious gleam ofthe face of an Indian, crouching on one knee just beyond.

The warrior who aimed the weapon meant to send the bullet through thechest of the youth, whose approach, stealthy as it was, he had detected.The distance was so slight that the briefest possible time was requiredto make his aim certain; but while in the very act of doing so, thesinewy youth vanished like a puff of vapor.

The savage was dumfounded, for nothing of the kind had ever occurred, sofar as his experience went, and it was unexplainable to him. He had usedthe proverbial caution of his people, and he knew from the expectantposition of the youth that his suspicions were excited, but he could notcomprehend by what means he had passed so suddenly from sight. The redman was in the very act of pressing the trigger when he discovered hewas not aiming at any target.

If the Indian tongue contained an execration, it may well be imaginedthat a most vigorous one escaped the lips of the baffled redskin, whowas shut out from his prize at the moment of closing his fingers uponit.

The warrior was a brawny, full-grown Indian, almost in middle life, whohad sunk on one knee and brought his gun to his shoulder, after brieflystudying the form which had approached his lurking place. He had neverseen the stranger until that moment, and he only knew that he belongedto some totem unknown to him. It was probable that his home was on theeastern shore of the Mississippi, and he resented the intrusion upon hishunting grounds as he did that of a white man: consequently he was asquick to take the life of one as of the other.

Finding that his intended victim had disappeared beyond all question,the next step of the fierce assassin was to solve the meaning of theunaccountable occurrence. He noiselessly straightened up, and craninghis head forward peeped through the undergrowth. All that he saw was thehuge boulder or rock, within a few feet of where the youth had beenstanding. It followed, therefore that he had flung himself behind it,and was hiding there at that moment.

The painted visage glowed with a baleful light, for he was assured histriumph was postponed only for a few moments. The boulder might serve asa shelter while the relative positions of the two were the same, but itwas in the power of the savage to change that by putting forth onlymoderate skill.

Taking care not to reveal himself, he began a guarded movement to theright, his course being the same as if starting to describe a circleabout the hiding place. It will be seen that if he could accomplish thiswithout exposing himself to the fire of the other, he would not need togo far before gaining a view of the opposite side of the boulder, andnecessarily of him who was seeking to screen himself from discovery. Todo this, however, the victim must remain where he was, for manifestly,if he shifted his position correspondingly, he would continue invisible,but he counted himself fortunate that he had noticed the peculiarconfiguration of the boulder, which rendered such a man[oe]uvre beyondthe power of an ordinary warrior. As for himself, he had no personalfear, for the trees were so numerous that he could use them to shieldhis body while leaping from one to the other, while in many places hecould steal along the ground without the possibility of detection.

If the fool had but known the woodcraft of the youth against whom he wasso eager to pit himself, he would have turned and fled from the spot asfrom a plague; but he had never heard the name of Deerfoot, and littledreamed of the skill of the extraordinary youth.

The warrior stooped, crept, leaped, and stole through the wood with acelerity that was astonishing. Within a very short time after beginningthe movement, he had described one-fourth of the circle and gained theview he wished. It must be remembered, too, that he had kept the boulderunder such close surveillance as to be morally certain the youth couldnot shift his position without being observed.

But to his amazement he saw nothing of his victim. The flat slope andthe leafy ground were free from anything resembling a human being. Hestood peering from behind the tree, and at his wit's end to know what itmeant. He held his rifle so that the hammer could be raised the momentthe necessity came, and he must have felt that the wiser course was forhim to leave the spot without further search.

Probably such would have been his course had he not heard a mostalarming sound directly behind him. It was the faint cough of a personseeking to clear his throat. The Indian turned like a flash, and saw thedusky youth a rod distant, holding his bow loosely in his right hand,while his terrible left was drawn back over his shoulder, the fingersclenching the handle of his tomahawk. His position was precisely that ofone who was on the very point of launching the deadly missile whichwould have cloven the skull, as though made of card-board. He had takenthe posture, and then uttered the slight cough with a view of "callingthe attention" of the party of the first part to the fact, and hesucceeded. The elder was in the position of the hunter who while seekingthe tiger awoke to the fact that the tiger was seeking him.

The warrior, whose face was daubed with red, black and yellow paint, wasliterally struck dumb. He had been engaged in many an encounter withstrange Indians, but never had the affray been introduced in a morefavorable manner to himself, and never had he been more utterlyoverwhelmed.

He saw that the youth was merely holding his tomahawk; the very secondit was needed, he could drive it into his chest or brain. He was tooproud to ask for mercy, for he had no thought it would be granted. Hecould only face his master and await his doom.

Deerfoot was not the one to prolong the wretchedness of another, nomatter if his most deadly enemy. He stood with his left foot slightlyadvanced and his muscles gathered, so that he did not require theslightest preparation, and, having held the pose just long enough tomake sure it had produced its full effect, he slowly lowered thetomahawk, keeping his eyes fixed on his enemy. When the weapon was athis side, he said:

"The Sauk is a wolf; he steals behind the hunter that he may leap on hisshoulders when he sleeps; but the hunter heard the sound of his claws onthe leaves and turned upon him."

These words were uttered in the mongrel tongue of the Sauk, forDeerfoot, after a careful inspection of the painted warrior, was quitesure he belonged to that restless and warlike tribe. He had encounteredthe people before, though at rare intervals, and he had hunted with apioneer who was familiar with the tongue. The youth detected so manyresemblances to other aboriginal languages with which he was familiarthat he quickly mastered it and could speak it like a native.

The warrior, as has been said, was a brawny savage, well on towardmiddle life. He was attired in the usual fashion among the Indians, hisdress looking slouchy and untidy. His straggling black hair, instead ofbeing ornamented with eagle feathers, was gathered in a knot, so as toform what is often called a scalp-lock, and to proclaim the fact thatthe wearer of the same challenged any one to take it if he could.Besides his long rifle, he carried his knife and tomahawk, after themanner of his people. He would have proved a dangerous foe in ahand-to-hand struggle, but he was deprived of whatever advantage hemight have possessed by being taken at such overwhelming disadvantage.

He caught every word uttered by Deerfoot, who had not mistaken histotem. He had no thought that the youth intended to show him mercy, butbelieved he was indulging in a little preliminary sermonizing—so tospeak—before claiming his scalp for the ridge-pole of his wigwam.

The words of Deerfoot served to awaken the Sauk from his paralysis, and,throwing his head back, he said:

"The Sauk is no wolf; the Shawanoe is the fox that steals upon thehunting grounds of the Sauks."

"The lands that stretch to the rising and setting sun belong not to theShawanoe nor Sauk nor Huron, but the Great Spirit, who loves hischildren to chase the buffalo and hunt the deer and bear where they canbe found; but why should the Sauk and the Shawanoe be enemies?"

And to give point to the question, Deerfoot advanced and offered hishand. The Sauk concealed his surprise and gave the fingers a warm grasp,but while doing so each looked distrustfully in the face of the other.The frightful stains on the broad face of the elder did not alarmDeerfoot, who had seen much more frightful countenances among his ownpeople. He gazed calmly into the eyes of the warrior, as the two stoodclose together with their hands clasped. The Indian is an adept inconcealing whatever emotions may stir him, but Deerfoot saw the savagewas puzzled over his action. He could not but know that the Shawanoeswere the most warlike Indians in the Mississippi Valley, and one of thelast weaknesses of which they could be accused was that of showing mercyto an enemy.

One point was necessary for Deerfoot to establish. If the Sauk wasalone, nothing was to be feared from him; but if he had brother warriorswithin call, the youth had need to be on his guard.

"Why does the brother of Deerfoot hunt the woods alone?" asked theyoung Shawanoe, introducing himself in this characteristic fashion.

"Because Hay-uta fears not to go everywhere alone; from the ridge-poleof his wigwam flutter the scalps of the Shawanoes, the Hurons, theFoxes, the Osages, and the strange red man whom he has met and slain inthe forest."

The old nature in Deerfoot prompted him to take this vaunting warrior totask. The answer of the Sauk was indefinite, but the youth could wait afew minutes for the information he sought.

"Hay-uta, the Man-Who-Runs-Without-Falling, has not taken the scalp ofDeerfoot, and cannot do so!"

The flash of the eye which accompanied these words added to their force.Before they could receive reply the youth added:

"Hay-uta is a brave man when he talks to squaws; less than twenty greatsuns have passed over the head of Deerfoot, but he is not afraid of theMan-Who-Runs-Without-Falling."

Indian nature is quick to resent such taunts, and beyond a doubt the hotblood flushed the skin beneath the paint. Deerfoot noted the glitter ofthe eye, and a twitch of the muscles of the arm whose hand rested on theknife, as he made answer:

"The Shawanoe is a dog that crept up behind the Sauk, without giving himwarning; the rattlesnake speaks, but the Shawanoe does not."

Deerfoot was angered by these words because they were untrue.

"The Shawanoe was walking through the wood, when the Great Spiritwhispered, 'Take care; a snake is crawling through the grass; he iscalled Hay-uta; he will strike his fangs through the moccasin ofDeerfoot, unless he crushes him with his heel; Hay-uta was not brave,because he hid behind a tree, and he pointed his gun through the bushes,meaning to shoot the Shawanoe before he could chant a word of hisdeath-song.'"

This charge was an exasperating one, and instantly raised the anger ofthe warrior to white heat.

"The dog of a Shawanoe holds his tomahawk and bow; let him lay themaside as Hay-uta does his weapon, and then it shall be shown who is thebrave warrior."

It was a curious fact that while this wrathful conversation was goingon, the couple had been steadily backing away from each other. The actshowed that in spite of the token of comity that had just passed betweenthem, they were mutually so suspicious as to be ready to fly at eachother. The last taunt forced the quarrel to the exploding point.Deerfoot slipped the cord which held the quiver of arrows in place overhis head, by a motion so quick as scarcely to be perceptible, flung hisbow a rod from him, tossed his tomahawk a dozen feet away, and whippingout his hunting-knife, grasped it with his left hand, and defiantlyconfronted the Sauk, who was scarcely behind him in taking up the gaugeof battle.

CHAPTER XXI.

CHRISTIAN AND PAGAN.

The North American Indian is treacherous by nature, and will take anyadvantage over a foe, no matter what its nature. The Sauk had failed tobring down Deerfoot by the same unscrupulous means he had employed inother instances, but he was on the watch to repeat his tactics.

When uttering the taunt which brought about the personal collision, heflung his gun from him, and seized the handle of his tomahawk, as ifwith the purpose of throwing that also aside, the manner of hischallenge implying that he meant the battle should be fought with theknives alone. Even the sagacious Deerfoot did not suspect him for themoment, when, on the point of grasping his knife, as he did when defyingTec*mseh, the Sauk drew back his tomahawk and hurled it with incredibleswiftness at the head of Deerfoot. There was a vicious spitefulness inthe act which sent the missile as if fired from a gun.

Nothing could have attested the Shawanoe's miraculous activity andquickness of eye so clearly as did the ease with which he dodged theweapon. The flirt of his head was like that of the loon which divesbelow the path of the bullet after it sees the flash of the gun. Thetomahawk struck the ground, went end over end, flinging the dirt andleaves about, and after ricocheting a couple of times, whirled againstthe trunk of a small sapling and stopped.

The act placed the two on the same footing. Each held only hishunting-knife. The treachery of the Sauk took place without a word beingspoken either by himself or his foe. It was unnecessary, for there couldbe nothing to say.

Having avoided the tomahawk, Deerfoot advanced upon Hay-uta with hisknife grasped in his left hand, while the Sauk did precisely the samething as regarded him.

They were stripped for the fight, and were in deadly earnest. The Saukhad learned of the panther-like agility of the Shawanoe, and he knew nolight task was before him. It would not be child's play to wrench thescalp-lock from the crown of the handsome warrior who was not afraid ofany man, but Hay-uta was warranted in feeling a strong confidence in hisown strength and prowess.

The warriors approached each other with the watchfulness of a couple ofgladiators, seeking each others' lives for the sake of giving amusem*ntto a Roman populace. Both slightly crouched, with their heads bentforward, their eyes fixed, while they stepped softly about, seeking anopening into which the keenly-pointed hunting knife might be driven witha furious vigor, that would render a second blow useless.

The situation was one where the slightest forgetfulness or mishap wouldprove fatal to him who made it. Both realized the fact, and did theirutmost to guard against it.

When a couple of yards separated the combatants, they approached nocloser, but began slowly circling around each other in the same stealthyfashion. The action of the Sauk convinced Deerfoot that his enemy had nofriends in that section, for, if any were within call, he would havesummoned them before the quarrel had gone so far. He could have calledany one to his help by signal, and neglect to do so was proof that therewas none to summon. Had Hay-uta done anything of the kind, Deerfootwould have leaped upon him and ended the battle in a twinkling.

Partly around, and then back again, the two seemed to oscillate, theirmotions corresponding so closely that it was as if both were moved bythe same delicate machinery between them.

Suddenly Deerfoot feinted, like a skillful boxer, with the hand whichgrasped his knife. The vigilant Sauk was equally quick to parry andcounter. He was as spry as a cat, and never once took his burning eyesfrom the face of the hated youth. Then he feinted in turn, and theShawanoe, by his action, showed he was prepared for any demonstration,no matter what.

These preliminaries continued several minutes, when Deerfoot, in movingto the left, caught the toe of his moccasin in some obstruction andstumbled. He threw up his arms, as one will instinctively do, and for asingle second was off his guard, though he recovered with incrediblequickness. Any spectator of the strange combat would have given a gaspof terror, for the instant the stumble took place, the Sauk boundedforward with upraised knife and brought it down with a sweep like thatof a panther's paw.

But what seemed an accident on the part of Deerfoot was done withdeliberate intent. He wearied of the idle circling, and, confident ofhis own ability to outwit his antagonist, he dropped his guard for thevery purpose of drawing out the other. Hay-uta was so certain of his owntriumph that he made the mistake which the skillful fighter never makes;he drew upon his own strength and self-poise by emitting a shout ofexultation; but the downward sweeping arm clove vacancy only, and ere hecould recover he was struck in the chest by the head of Deerfoot, whobutted him with the force of a Japanese wrestler, sending the warriorseveral feet over on his back. The shock was so unexpected, as well astremendous, that the knife flew from his hand, and he nearly faintedfrom sheer weakness.

Inasmuch as Deerfoot was able to butt him in that style, it will beadmitted that it would have been equally easy for him to have buried hisknife to the hilt in the body of his enemy, but he chose not to do so.Instead, he quietly picked up the weapon and held one in each hand,while the Sauk was entirely disarmed. The latter had been frightfullyjarred. The blow in the stomach fairly lifted him off his feet and drovethe wind from his lungs. He lay for a moment, with his lips compressed,his body griped with pain, and with no more ability to defend himselfthan an infant. He kept his black eyes fixed on the youthful conquerorwhile writhing, and the latter stood off several paces and calmlyconfronted him, as though viewing the natural phase of such a contest.

But the Sauk was quick to recover, and his old enmity seemed to blaze upwith ten-fold intensity.

"The Shawanoe is a buffalo," said he, from behind his gleaming paint;"he fights like the buffalo when his foe is stronger and braver thanhe."

Deerfoot flung the knife of the warrior to him.

"The Shawanoe will fight as a buffalo no more; he will now use hisknife; let the Sauk do what he can."

A brave warrior could take no exception to this declaration, accompaniedas it was by such significant action; but it cannot be conceived thatthe Sauk was free from misgiving, when knowing, as he did, that he heldthe position of contestant only through the grace of his youthfulantagonist, who a moment before could have pierced his heart with hishunting knife.

Having displayed the character of a battering ram, Deerfoot now assumedanother.

"The Sauk is afraid of Deerfoot; he dare not attack him until hestumbles; Deerfoot's heart was oppressed with pity when he saw the fearof Hay-uta, and he stumbled that it might give Hay-uta the courage theGreat Spirit did not give him."

These were taunting words, but, convinced they were spoken with thepurpose of disturbing his self-possession, the Sauk only compressed hislips the tighter, and held himself ready to seize the first chance thatpresented itself. His recent experience had taught him a lesson which hecould not forget.

Bending his knees until he assumed a crouching posture, the Sankcentered his burning gaze on the face of Deerfoot, drew back his lipsuntil his white teeth showed like those of a wild cat, and uttered atremulous, sibilant sound, as if he were a serpent ready to burst withvenom.

If he meant to frighten Deerfoot he failed, for the mishap of the Saukwas too recent to allow such impression to be made. The figure of thecrouching warrior was startling in its hideousness, but there was nevera moment from the opening of the singular contest, when the youngShawanoe did not feel secure in his mastery of the situation.

The feinting and retreating went on several minutes longer, when all atonce Deerfoot caught an expression, which the paint on the face of hisantagonist could not hide, that showed he had resolved on forcing thefight to a conclusion. A couple of quick feints followed, and thenHay-uta leaped forward, meaning to force Deerfoot to the earth. Had theShawanoe remained quiet, such would have been the result, but he was toosupple to be entangled in that manner. He withdrew, so that when hisenemy landed on the spot, he found himself still confronted by thedefiant youth, who had recoiled but the single step necessary to escapethe blow. Hay-uta, without a second's pause, bounded toward him again,and brought down his right arm like a flash; but, as before, it cleftthe empty air, and the youth confronted him with his shadowy smile anddefiant expression.

Then, as if feeling he had retreated far enough, the Shawanoe advancedon his muscular foe, who drew back as if to brace himself for theassault. Deerfoot uttered no sound, but when he bounded lightly from theground, Hay-uta knew the crisis had come; the trifling had ended.

The Shawanoe, when close enough to strike, made a dozen circular sweepsof his good left hand, as though he had rested it on the rim of a wheelthat was spinning with bewildering swiftness. No eye could follow theknife in its circlings. There was one smooth gleam like the polishedperiphery of the "driver" of a locomotive.

The foes, as is always the case, looked straight in each other's eyes,but every limb and portion of the body, being in the field of vision,was clearly seen. The peculiar act of Deerfoot produced the effectintended. The vision of Hay-uta became confused and dizzy, and before hecould rally the Shawanoe struck his blow.

He could have killed the other as easily as he would have slain a bear,but he chose not to do so. Instead, he brought his fist down on theupper part of his right wrist with a quick violence, which, for thesecond time, knocked the knife from the grasp of the more sinewywarrior. So deftly was the trick done that the weapon of the Sauk flew adozen feet straight up in the air, turning rapidly end over end andfalling between the two.

Deerfoot's Victory.

If Hay-uta was subject to the will of Deerfoot a minute before, it willbe seen that now he was helpless. He had been again disarmed, while thelithe youth still grasped his own weapon with the power to drive it homewhenever he so willed.

The last act of Deerfoot accomplished its purpose. Hay-uta at first wasself-confident; again, he was hopeful; but the latter time he wasdisarmed, his confidence vanished. He saw that much as he had despisedthe youth whose life he sought, he was his inferior in every respect. Hewas no match for him in a fight, nor could he approach him in hispeerless woodcraft. The question of supremacy was settled forever.

Slowly recoiling a couple of steps, he folded his arms, and, with adignity that was touching, said, in a slow, deliberate voice, with hissoftened gaze fixed on the countenance of his conqueror:

"Hay-uta is a dog whose teeth have fallen out; he can fight no more; heis ashamed to go back to his people; the son of a pale face who isthere, when he learns the truth, will point his finger at him and laugh;Hay-uta cannot go to his lodge; let Deerfoot bury his knife in hisheart!"

"Deerfoot seeks not the life of Hay-uta; had he wished it, he could havehad it long ago; but Deerfoot is a Christian; he will do Hay-uta noharm."

CHAPTER XXII.

AN ABORIGINAL SERMON.

If Hay-uta the Sauk had been astonished by the action of his youthfulconqueror, he was now more astonished by his words; but the former in ameasure prepared him for the latter, and he saw why it was theremarkable warrior had refused to take his life when the opportunity hadbeen his, and when too he knew that he whom he was fighting would showhim no mercy.

Hay-uta, like many of his people, had listened to the words of themissionaries—those strange people who underwent hunger, thirst, andsuffering that they might preach the Word of Life to those who had neverheard of that wonderful Being that died to save a lost world, and whotaught that forgiveness, kindness, and love were the duty of every one.Hay-uta, I say, had listened to the words of those people, but only toturn away with a scornful smile, for he was sure the creed was one towhich the American Indian could never give his faith.

The red man remembered that those priests and missionaries calledthemselves Christians, and lo! the most skillful warrior upon whom hehad ever looked, now stood before him and declared that he too was aChristian. Not only that, but he proved it by his works, for he refusedto tear the reeking scalp from the head of his enemy, when that enemywas vanquished!

Once more Deerfoot picked the knife of Hay-uta from the ground andhanded it (the point toward himself) to the Sauk. The latter accepted itand pushed it back in place behind the girdle that spanned his waist.Then at a signal from Deerfoot he recovered his rifle and tomahawk, asDeerfoot did his hatchet and bow and quiver. Without a word, the twowalked the short distance to camp, Hay-uta slightly in the lead.

The camp was of the simplest character, consisting of a pile of sticks,leaves, and branches which served as a couch, beside furnishing fuel forthe fire when he cooked his food. A long, heavy blanket was partlyfolded and lying on the heap of branches, where it had served as apillow for the warrior, who was different from most of his people inusing that artificial help to slumber.

The water, which is such a necessity for parties halting in thewilderness, was obtained from a tiny stream that trickled down the rocksjust beyond, after which it sank out of sight in the mountain toreappear at some point far removed. The wood and undergrowth thatsurrounded the camp of the Sauk were very close and dense, so that theview in every direction was shut off, unless one should climb thetallest tree and take his survey from that perch.

When Hay-uta halted in front of his camp-fire he turned about andextended his hand to Deerfoot.

"Will Deerfoot tell Hay-uta about the Great Spirit of the white man?"

"He is the Great Spirit of the red man as well as of the white," repliedthe Shawanoe, seating himself on the ground, where he was opposite theSauk, who slowly resumed his seat on the pile of sticks and branches."He loves all his children—him with the face of the night, the Miami,the Huron, the Shawanoe, the Delaware, the Sauk and Fox, the white man,and all those who live far beyond the great water which rolls againstthe shores of our land. He loves them all, and He hides his face withgrief when he sees them quarrel and try to kill each other. If Hischildren will do as He tells them to do, they will be happy in thisworld and in the hunting grounds where they shall live forever."

Hay-uta remembered that this agreed with what he had heard themissionaries say, but he recalled also that there was something more.

"Where does the Great Spirit that Deerfoot tells me about live?"

The Shawanoe pointed reverently upward.

"Far beyond the clouds, the sun, and the stars; He lives there, andthere all shall go who do His will. A long time ago, before the whitemen came across the great water, He sent His Son from Heaven to earth;the Son went about doing good, and died, to save those He loved fromsorrow and death."

"Deerfoot tells me what the Great Spirit says to him; how does he hearthe Great Spirit speak?"

Without changing his half-reclining posture, the Shawanoe drew forth hissmall Bible from the inner pocket of his hunting shirt, the otherwatching with amazement the action. Opening the sacred volume, he readin his low, musical voice:

"'Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth.

"'Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God.

"'Blessed are the peace-makers: for they shall be called the children ofGod.

"'Ye have heard that it has been said, thou shalt love thy neighbor, andhate thine enemy:

"'But I say unto you, love your enemies, bless them that curse you, dogood to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully useyou, and persecute you.'"

Deerfoot read these extracts from the Sermon on the Mount, with which hewas so familiar that he could have repeated it all without looking atthe printed page. Then raising his eyes to the wondering face ofHay-uta, he added:

"Let my brother listen, for these are the words of the Great Spirit,which he speaks to all his children; if they will obey, there shall beno unhappiness in the world:

"'Therefore all things whatsoever ye would that men should do toyou, do ye even so to them: for this is the law and the prophets.'"

The Sauk warrior was never so stirred in all his life. He had seen whitemen read from books, and he held a misty idea of how it was done, but henever knew one of his own race who could interpret the meaning of thecurious figures made by some incomprehensible means on paper.

It was impossible that he should grasp the height and depth of thatsublime utterance, which is of itself the very essence of the Christianreligion; but they were as clear as sunlight to Deerfoot, who hadpondered them many a time since he sat at the feet of good Mrs. Preston,who presented him with the Word of Life.

Closing the Book and putting it away, he proceeded to preach his sermonto the Sauk warrior. Deerfoot assumed the sitting position, and usedboth hands in his frequent gestures. Hay-uta reclined on his side,supporting himself on one elbow, while he fixed his eyes on his teacherand drank in every word.

"The Great Spirit made all people—the white, the red, the black man,and him whose face is the color of the breast of Deerfoot's huntingshirtfor there are men whose skins are yellow, and others who arebrown. He wishes them to live like brothers, but they do not. More ofthe pale faces are evil than good; they use the red men ill, and the redman loves to fight his enemies, but they grieve the Great Spirit. LetHay-uta pray to the Great Spirit; let him never lie down or rise withouttalking to Him; let him stay his hand when it would strike a blow inanger; let him forgive his foes; let him seek to do the will of theGreat Spirit, and a sweet peace shall fill his heart, such as he neverknew before. Let my brother do that; let him tell the good news to hisfriends; let him listen to the words of the missionaries and talk to hispeople.

"The father of Deerfoot was a chief of the Shawanoes, who loved tofight; Deerfoot when a child was a wildcat in his hate of his enemiesand of the pale faces; but the Great Spirit whispered in his ear, and hebecame another being. It was the Great Spirit who told him just now thatdanger threatened him. Hay-uta knows that Deerfoot could have slain himhad he wished to do so; but he never wished him ill; he first showed himhe was his master, that Hay-uta might listen to his words; will mybrother forget what Deerfoot has said to him?"

Every being, whether groping in the night of barbarism or walled in bythe skepticism of an advanced civilization, has felt at one time oranother, an irrestrainable longing to draw aside the veil which shutsout the great hereafter, and solve the mystery of the life that is tocome. Many a time is the heart stirred to its uttermost depths by thechastening hand of affliction, or when gazing on the glories of thestars and firmament, or when listening to the meanings of the vast deep,the soft sighing of the winds in the forest, or the lisping prayer ofinfancy. No proof of the immortality of the soul can equal that of itsvery yearning for immortality, and dim, strange, half-heard whisperingsof the Beyond become voices more convincing than all the scientificscoffing and brilliant ridicule of those whose learning carries thembeyond the trusting faith of childhood, and stops just short of thegrandeur of the light of perfect knowledge.

When Deerfoot addressed his question to the Sauk warrior, the latter didnot answer, but continued gazing into his face as though he heard notthe words, and his thoughts were far away. The Shawanoe was wise enoughto suspect the truth, and refrained from repeating the question. He,too, held his peace, and for several minutes the strange scene lasted.The two Indians looked at each other without speaking.

Meanwhile the afternoon was drawing to a close, and darkness wascreeping through the forest. The camp-fire had burned so low that itgave out no light, and the figures of the warriors began to growindistinct.

Deerfoot felt that he had sowed the seed, and he had only to wait for itto bear fruit. He arose, and stepping closer to the fire, stirred ituntil it gave forth a flame which lit up the surrounding gloom. StillHay-uta remained motionless and silent.

Perhaps it has not escaped the notice of the reader that when the Saukstood with folded arms before his conqueror, and asked him to bury hisknife in his heart, he said that the son of the pale face would pointthe finger of scorn at him. Deerfoot noticed the curious words, and hefelt that the moment had come when he should learn their full meaning.

"Where is the village of my brother?" he asked in his gentle way.

The Sauk aroused himself and slowly rose to his feet. Glancing throughthe firelight at his questioner, he pointed to the west.

"Two suns' journey away is the home of Hay-uta. There are his squaw andpappoose. He left them two suns ago to hunt for the scalps of hisenemies; but he will hunt no more; he will go home, and on his way willthink of the words that Deerfoot has said to him."

"It is well he should do so; but my brother spoke of the son of the paleface. Why is he in the village of the Sauks?"

"He was brought there in the last moon; the Sauks found two pale facesin the woods."

"Where is the other?"

"Some of the Sauks took him by another path; Hay-uta knows not where heis."

"Was harm done him?"

"Hay-uta cannot answer."

"Tell me of the pale face that is in the village of the Sauks with mybrother."

The warrior, assisted by the questions of Deerfoot, who kept down thedeep interest he felt, told all he knew. When he had finished, as thereader may well suspect, Deerfoot was sure he had gained most importantknowledge. He was satisfied beyond all doubt that the prisoner in thevillage of the Sauks was Jack Carleton, whom he had set out to find, andfor whom he feared he would have to hunt for many moons before learningwhether he was alive or dead.

Suddenly the Sauk rose to his feet and stood in the attitude oflistening, as though he had caught some signal. Deerfoot knew he wasmistaken, for had it been otherwise, he too would have noticed it.

"Hay-uta bids his brother good bye," was the abrupt exclamation of thewarrior, who caught up his blanket and, without another word, passedfrom sight in the wood, leaving the astonished Deerfoot alone.

CHAPTER XXIII.

IN THE LODGE OF OGALLAH.

From what has been told concerning Deerfoot, the reader knows that thetribe which held Jack Carleton prisoner were Sauks, or Sacs, as the nameis often spelled. They belonged to the great Algonquin division, and,when first known to Europeans, inhabited the country near Detroit Riverand Saginaw Bay, but were driven beyond Lake Michigan by the powerfulIroquois. They themselves were of a restless and warlike nature and werethe bitter enemies of the Sioux and Iroquois. They were the allies ofthe famous war-chief Pontiac who besieged Detroit so long, and, duringthe Revolution fought on the side of the English. They were closelyassociated with the Foxes, and frequently moved from one section of thecountry to another, in which respect they resembled the majority ofAmerican Indians.

The chief who has been referred to as Ogallah was one of the mostfiery-tempered and quarrelsome members of the Sauk tribe. In one of theexpeditions against the Sioux, he not only performed wonderful deeds ofdaring, but tomahawked several of his own warriors, because, in hisjudgment, they showed a timidity in attacking the common foe. One of theSauks who fell by the hand of the wrathful sachem was the brother of theleading chief. This precipitated a fierce quarrel between the two, theupshot of which was that Ogallah, and a number of followers, drew offfrom the main tribe and began "keeping house" for themselves. Migratingsouthward with the purpose of placing a long stretch of country betweenthem and the parent tribe, they finally erected their lodges on thebanks of a stream on the Ozark region, in what is now Southern Missouriand upper Arkansas.

I have already said the Indians gave the white men little trouble inthat section during the pioneer days. In that respect, no comparison canbe made with Kentucky and Ohio. As early as 1720, the lead deposits inMissouri attracted notice, and its oldest town, Saint Genevieve, wasfounded in 1755. St. Louis became the depot for the fur trade of thevast region beyond, and at the breaking out of the Revolution, was atown of considerable importance.

The warrior Hay-uta with whom Deerfoot had his remarkable interview wasa fair representative of the Sauk nation, and especially of thatdivision which was under the following of Ogallah. Some of the warriorswere constantly roaming through the wilderness in quest of scalps. Whilethey were nothing loth to engage in a scrimmage with the hunters andtrappers, yet they preferred those of their own race above all others.No Sioux or Iroquois could have approached within hundreds of mileswithout the certainty of an encounter with the warlike Sauks.

The Sauk party which appeared so close to the settlement of Martinsvillehad been out for several weeks looking for "game" in the form of Sioux,who lived far to the northward. They had found some of it too, and werereturning home in a leisurely manner. They took a careful survey of thesettlement, and even discussed the wisdom of making an attack on it; butthey saw it could not be destroyed by so small a force, and though theymight have shot several of the settlers before they could know theirdanger, they decided to pass on without making any demonstration atall.

When Jack Carleton and Otto Relstaub walked up to the party, it was nomore than natural that they should be made prisoners. No particularreason can be assigned for the separation of the party, one division ofwhich took Jack and the other Otto, except that a survey of the landpassed over could be better made by that means. However, this point willbe dwelt upon more fully in another place.

Probably no person ever played the part of captive among a tribe ofsavages without devoting most of his thoughts to the question of escape.It is inevitable that he should do so, for the fate is so painful inevery respect that, but for the hope, one would be ready to lie down anddie.

Jack had turned the question over and over in his mind, and had done hisutmost to give his captors the slip while on the road, but misfortuneattended every venture, and at last he found himself in the lodge of thechieftain Ogallah himself, where it looked as if he was likely to remainindefinitely.

"Well, this beats everything," he exclaimed, after finishing the mealand seating himself at the side of the lodge, so as to be out of the wayof the housewife, as she moved back and forth and here and there whileattending to her duties; "I've come a long distance through the woods,and it'll take some time to find my way back to Martinsville, after Ionce make a start."

He could not persuade himself that his captivity might last for monthsand possibly for years. He was confident that no matter how vigilant thewatch maintained, he would gain a chance to give the Indians the slipwithin two or three days at the furthest.

"I did my best to make Ogallah and the others think I wasn't anxious toleave, but the work was all thrown away. These people are not fools, andno matter how well I may act, they know of a surety that the wholeprayer of my life is to part company with them."

The conclusion reached by Jack was common sense, though thestory-writers sometimes make it appear that the keen minded AmericanIndian may be duped in that transparent fashion. The utmost that JackCarleton could hope to do was to show his captors that, while he longedto return to his friends, he saw no means of doing so, and thereforewas not likely to make the attempt. Such he resolved would be hiscourse.

The boy was fatigued in mind and body, and, when he bowed his head inprayer (much to the astonishment of Ogallah and his squaw), and lay downon the bison robe, he sank into a refreshing slumber, from which he didnot awake until morning, and then, when he did so, he came to his senseswith a yell that almost raised the roof.

The Sauks, like all their race, were extremely fond of dogs, and themongrel curs seemed to be everywhere. Jack had noticed them trottingthrough the village, playing with the children and basking in the sun. Anumber sniffed at his heels, as he passed by with Ogallah, but did notoffer to disturb him.

The chief was the owner of a mangy cur, which seemed to have been off onsome private business of his own, when his master returned, inasmuch ashe did not put in an appearance until early the following morning, whenhe trotted sideways up to the lodge and entered, as he could readily do,inasmuch as the "latch string was always out." The canine was quick tonotice the stranger lying on the bison skin with his eyes closed and hismouth open. With an angry growl he trotted in the same sidelong fashionacross the space, and pushing his nose under Jack's legs gave him asmart bite, just below the knee, as though he meant to devour him, andconcluded that was the best part of his anatomy on which to make abeginning.

The foregoing will explain why Jack Carleton awoke with a yell andstared around him for an explanation of the insult. The vigor of hiskicks, and the resonant nature of his cries, filled the dog with apanic, and he skurried out of the lodge with his tail between his legs,and cast affrighted glances behind him.

"Confound the cur," muttered Jack, rubbing the injured limb, "is thatthe style of these dogs when a stranger calls?"

Ogallah was entering the door of his home just as the canine was goingout. Suspecting what mischief he had been committing, he placed hismoccasin under the brute and elevated him several feet in the air, witha force which caused him to turn end over end, with an accompaniment ofyelps and howls which were kept up until he was out of sight andhearing.

The wife of Ogallah was preparing breakfast, which was of the simplestcharacter, consisting of nothing but meat cooked over the coals as onthe evening before. There was nothing in the nature of vegetables,though something of the kind was growing on the cleared land without.

Jack longed for the pure, fresh air of the outside. The smoke of thechieftain's pipe, the smell of burning meat, and the untidiness of theplace and people, left a stale odor, which was nauseating to oneunaccustomed to it.

He wanted a drink of cold water as it bubbled from the earth, and,rising to his feet, passed outdoors. The squaw merely glanced up, whileOgallah addressed several rapidly spoken words to him. Then recollectingthat nothing he said could be understood, he smiled grimly, and turnedhis back on the lad.

Reaching the outside, Jack stood still for a minute, uncertain whatcourse to take. The warriors, squaws, and children were astir; but noone seemed to observe him when he paused in front of the chieftain'slodge.

"I'll try the river," was his conclusion, as he stepped briskly off, hisheart beating rapidly, for he knew from his experience of the previousnight, that much curiosity respecting him was felt, and he was certainto attract annoying attention. But he reached the stream, where hestooped and bathed his face and hands, wiping them on the handkerchiefhe carried, and still heard and saw nothing to cause misgiving.

"I wonder whether they drink from this," he said, rising to his feet,and looking around; "I can't say that I fancy it, for it isn't as clearas it looked to be when I was further off; then the youngsters bathe andplay in it—helloa!"

He saw an Indian woman making her way toward one of the wigwams on theedge of the village, carrying a large gourd of water in her arms. It wasfilled almost to the brim, and slopped over the edge, as it wasdisturbed by her movement in walking. It was fair to conclude that shehad taken it from the spring for which Jack was looking, and heimmediately moved toward her. She stopped abruptly when she saw himapproach, and stared in such open-mouthed amazement that it was evidentthat this was the first glance she had obtained of the captive.

Jack made signs of comity, and sheered off so as to reach the pathconsiderably to the rear of the squaw, who, with a grunt, made anequally wide circuit in the opposite direction, so that the two avoidedeach other by a liberal space of ground.

The boy saw that he was moving over a well-worn path, which he wasconfident led to the spring he wished to find. Nearly every step wasmarked by the drippings of water from the gourd of the woman he had justmet.

Sure enough, he had gone less than a hundred yards beyond the villagewhen he came upon the spring, which bubbled from under the twisted blackroots of an oak, throwing up the sand in a continual fountain-liketumble of melted silver. The lad looked down at it for a moment, andthen sinking to his hands and knees, pressed his lips against the cold,crystal-fluid, the most refreshing element in all nature.

Had not his nose and eyes been so close to the water, Jack Carletonwould have caught the reflection of another face just behind his own—aface which would have driven all thirst away and caused him to bound tohis feet, as though he had heard the whirr of a coiled rattlesnake athis elbow.

But Jack saw and suspected nothing. He had taken three good swallowswhen some one gave the back of his head such a smart push, that the nosewas shoved down among the silver sands, which streamed from his face, ashe sprang to his feet, and stared gasping, blinking, and furious.

"Who the deuce did that?" he demanded, forgetting himself in his anger.

His own eyes answered the question. Three Indian boys were standing,laughing as if ready to hurt themselves over his discomfiture. Two ofthem were very nearly the height and age of Jack, while the third, whohad played the trick on him, was older and taller.

The captive was angry enough to assail all three, and it required asmart exercise of the will to restrain himself. But he saw the folly ofsuch a step. The affray would quickly bring others to the spot, and veryspeedily Jack would find himself attacked by overwhelming numbers, andpossibly would be beaten to death. No; he must use ordinary prudenceand swallow the insult.

He looked in the grinning faces of the homely youths, and made quite asuccessful effort to join their laughter (though precious little mirthwas there in the essay), and then started back toward the lodge ofOgallah.

The youth tried to walk with a dignified step, but he was sadly thrownout by a dexterous trip from one of the moccasins, which sent himstumbling forward with a very narrow escape from falling on his handsand knees.

It was the tallest of the three who had tripped him, and all laughedlike a lot of clowns, as the angered Jack glared at them.

"I wish I had you alone," muttered the boy between his set teeth; "Iwouldn't need more than five minutes to give you a lesson you'd rememberall your life."

CHAPTER XXIV.

A ROW.

Jack Carleton saw that he was caught in an exceedingly unpleasantdilemma. He had a considerable distance to walk to reach the lodge ofOgallah and was sure to be tormented all the way. He could not feelcertain even, that the wigwam of the chieftain would afford himprotection, while nothing could be more manifest than that this was butthe beginning of a series of numberless persecutions to which he wouldbe subjected.

He was allowed to take six or eight steps in peace, when one of theIndian boys slipped up behind and with his foot struck his heel, just asit left the ground. This threw the toe behind Jack's other leg andcaused him to stumble again, though, as he was expecting something ofthe kind, he recovered himself with more ease.

A few seconds later, Jack was passing among the different lodges, andwalking rapidly toward that of the chieftain. His presence became knownto the whole village in a very brief time, and the younger portion cameflocking around him, as though he was some wonderful curiosity, which,under the circ*mstances, was the fact.

Ogallah was among those who came to the front of the lodges to learnwhat caused the uproar. When he caught sight of Jack, he called outsomething and made excited gestures to him. The boy supposed they wereintended to hurry his return, and finding his persecutors closing aroundhim, he broke into a run.

Then the stones and clods began to fly. The whole rabble joined in, andwhen the poor captive dodged into the wigwam, he was bruised and halffrightened to death. He watched the entrance in terror, but histormentors did not dare follow him into the home of their chief, whowould have been quick to resent such an invasion of his dignity andrights.

Jack was panting and frightened, but he had received no serious hurts.What alarmed him, more than everything else, was the foreshadowing thusmade of the treatment in store for him.

"I can't stand this," was his thought, after he had partly regained hiscomposure. "I shall have to stay in here altogether or run the gauntletevery time I go out."

But all this time, Ogallah kept talking and making vigorous gestures tohim. The chief had followed him to the middle of the lodge, where thetwo sat on the ground cross-legged and began eating the meat which thesquaw had prepared. She did not join them, and the boy had littleappetite after his exciting experience. The gestures of Ogallahcontinued so long that it was evident he was seeking to say something ofimportance to Jack.

"I wonder what the old fellow means," muttered the lad, ceasing his mealand studying the gyrating arms and spluttering countenance. Thechieftain was striking the air as if fighting an imaginary foe, andthen, pointing toward Jack he nodded his head vigorously and againpointed to the outside.

Suddenly the meaning of the pantomime broke upon the youth.

"By gracious! if he isn't urging me to sail into those fellows. I say,Ogallah, will you back me up and see that I have fair play?"

Jack raised his voice to a loud key, as though that would help thechieftain understand his words; but it could not be expected that hewould grasp their meaning, as they were not punctuated with any gestureand accompanied only by an eager expression of countenance.

But Ogallah probably saw that the youth had caught his meaning, for henodded his head and grinned with delight.

"If he will only keep the crowd off me," said Jack to himself, "I won'task anything better than a chance to get even with that big fellow andafter him the other two, if they want to take a hand in the fun."

The voices and turmoil in front of the lodge showed that the crowd werethere waiting for Jack to come forth, that they might continue theamusem*nt which was interrupted by his flight. The lad spent a minute ortwo in conversing by means of gestures with the chief, whose meaningseemed plainer now that he had caught the gist of his first proposal.

"I am quite sure he promises to see that I have fair play," thoughtJack; "but, if I am mistaken I shall get into a pretty scrape. Anything,however, is preferable to this state of affairs, and it must be endedone way or another very soon."

Ogallah showed a childish delight when he saw that the youth had made uphis mind to have a bout with the ringleaders who had started out to makelife a burden to him. Even the squaw partook of the general excitementand followed the two out doors.

The chieftain cleared the way for the captive, who was greeted with themost uproarious cries as soon as seen by the company, which numberedover a hundred bucks, squaws and children, exclusive of the dogs whichadded to the unearthly racket by their barking, yelping and howling.

Jack Carleton kept well under the wing of Ogallah until he could seewhat was to take place. The chief talked for a short time with severalof his warriors, who closed around him, the rest holding him in such awethat they refrained from disturbing the prisoner until permission wasgiven.

It was quickly settled: Ogallah and two of his men cleared a space a rodsquare and then beckoned to Jack, who walked defiantly to the middle ofit and folded his arms.

"Something must be done pretty soon," was his thought, as he scanned thescowling, laughing, shouting mob. "They would like to tear me to pieces,and, if they come all at once, they will do it too."

The three Indian youths who had assailed Jack at the spring, leapedabout and were as frantically eager as so many bull-dogs to fly at thepoor fellow, who was never in sorer need of a powerful friend.

Suddenly one of them received the signal, and, with a whoop of delight,he lowered his head and ran at Jack like a Japanese wrestler or a madbull. The boy saw he meant to butt him in the stomach, and if he did sohe would suffer serious injury. Forewarned was forearmed in his case,and, leaping aside, he tripped the Indian as he shot by, and sent himsprawling on his hands and knees. The uproar was deafening, but thecontest, it may be said, had only opened, and the young Sauk bounded tohis feet as if made of India Rubber. His coppery face was aglow withpassion, and, pausing but an instant, he made a second rush, though thistime he kept his head up, and spread out his arms so as to prevent Jackescaping him.

Jack did not want to escape. He seized his assailant at the same momentthat the latter grasped him, and in a twinkling they were interlockedand struggling like tigers. But the dusky youth was not only younger andslighter than Jack, but he was not so strong. Furthermore, his skill inwrestling was less than that of the white youth, who, like all theyouths of the border, was trained in the rough, athletic exercise sopopular with every people.

The contest was as brief as it was fierce. Suddenly a pair of moccasinskicked the air, and the presumptuous young Sauk went to the earth as ifflung from the top of a church steeple. The shock was tremendous andcaused a momentary hush, for it looked as if he had been killed.

The mother of the overthrown wrestler ran forward from the crowd, andwith wild lamentations, bent over him. When she saw him move and foundhe was not dead, she whirled about, and, with a shriek, made for JackCarleton, who dreaded just such an attack; but Ogallah seized her armere she reached the frightened youth, and flung her back with aviolence and a threat which stopped her from repeating the attack.

This incident gave Jack great encouragement, for it confirmed his beliefthat the sachem meant he should have fair treatment, and would allow nodishonest advantage to be taken of him.

The second dusky youth, who was slighter than Jack, was signalled toadvance to the attack, but to the surprise of all, he shook his head indissent and declined to come forward. The manner in which his companionhad been handled was enough to convince him that the most prudent thingfor him to do was to play the part of spectator only.

Not so, however, with the larger and older youth, who had arrived almostat man's estate. He was quite an athlete among his people, and couldscarcely restrain his eagerness to attack the pale face, who hadvanquished an opponent younger and weaker than himself. Ogallah noddedhis head, and, amid a noise which may be called applause, the youngwarrior strode forward and laid his hands on Jack, who, realizing thedifficult task before him, was resolute, watchful, and yet confident.

The young Sauk seemed to be left handed, like Deerfoot, the Shawanoe,for he placed himself on the right of Jack, and slid his arm over theboy's neck, while Jack assumed his favorite hold with his right. TheIndian was slightly the taller, and was naked to the waist, which wasencircled by a girdle, containing no weapons, below which were hisbreech clout, leggings and moccasins. There was nothing on his arms, hiscostume being that of a professional Indian wrestler "stripped for thefray."

When he slid his arm over Jack's neck, he bent his head forward so thathe could look down at their feet. Jack thus found the black hair, partedin the middle and dangling over the coppery shoulders, directly underhis eyes. He noted the large, misshapen nose, the narrow forehead,immensely broad temples, and uncouth lower jaw, and, during the fewseconds they were waiting, reflected what an ugly warrior the youth wascertain to prove if he lived a few years longer.

He was the ringleader among Jack's persecutors, and the lad determinedto conquer him if within the range of the most desperate effort. Thestyle in which he took hold of the pale face told the latter that hepossessed considerable skill, and it would be a mistake to estimate himtoo lightly.

Jack reached over his left hand to grasp the right of his antagonist,but the latter declined to take it, and the free hands, therefore, wereheld, as may be said, in reserve to be used as inclination prompted.

Suddenly the Sauk kicked one of Jack's heels forward and made a quickstrong effort to fling him backward. It was done with great deftness,and came within a hair of laying Jack flat on his back. He recoveredhimself by a fierce effort, and the attempt was instantly repeated, buthe saved himself in better shape than before.

Again the two crouched side by side, each with an arm over the other,and watching like cats for the chance to seize an advantage. As afeeler, Jack tried the same trick his foe had used, but the Sauk was toowatchful and was scarcely disturbed. All at once the pale face slid hisarm down until it rested on the girdle at the waist of the Indian. Thenjoining his two hands and pressing him until he could hardly breathe,Jack raised him like a flash, clear of his feet, and made as if tothrow him forward on his face. At the instant the Sauk put forth hisfrantic efforts to save himself from going in that direction, Jackreversed the enginery, and sent him backward on his head with a shockthat made the ground tremble.

The fall was terrific, and looking down at the motionless figure, Jackbelieved he had broken his neck.

"I hope I have," he muttered in the flush of his excitement, "but thatkind are tough—helloa!"

The prostrate youth began to gasp and make spasmodic movements of hislimbs—enough to prove he was alive.

While Jack stood surveying him, as if waiting another attack, the mobbroke into the most frightful yells and made a rush for him. He hadoverthrown those that had been matched against him, and now they meantto kill him; but Jack's faith in Ogallah was not misplaced. He and hisbrother warriors interfered in such a vigorous manner that not a hair ofthe boy's head was harmed, and, turning around, he walked into the lodgeof the chieftain, conscious that he had won a great victory.

CHAPTER XXV.

THE WAR FEAST.

Jack Carleton's triumph over the Indian youth was complete. In a fairwrestling bout he had flung him to the ground with a force that drovethe breath from his body, and gave him a more vivid idea of the whiteman's views of that athletic amusem*nt than he had ever entertainedbefore. But what was to be the outcome of this affair was more than theboy could guess. Physical prowess always commands respect whether thespectators be civilized or savage; but it does not insure againstpersecution.

"I have made them more revengeful than before," was the thought of theyouth, after he hurried back into Ogallah's lodge, and sat panting fromhis exertion: "they hate me because I am of another race and am in theirhands. They are afraid of the chief and, therefore, they will be morecareful and I must be the same."

There could be no mistake as to the sentiments of the sachem and hissquaw. They were delighted with the ability shown by the pale-facedyouth who had evidently overthrown the young champion of the village.Ogallah grinned and chattered with his wife who grinned and chattered inturn. Then the former patted Jack on the back and talked very fast. Theboy could not doubt that he was uttering the most high flown complimentsand he did a great deal of smiling and bowing in response. The squaw wasmore demonstrative, for, after bustling about the half-expired fire forawhile, she brought forward a piece of meat which she had taken extrapains in cooking and placed it at his disposal. Jack was not sufferingfrom hunger, but he very gladly ate the food and nodded inacknowledgment.

The crowd around the entrance became so noisy that the chieftainsuddenly lost patience, and, springing to his feet, he dashed the bisonskin door aside and speedily scattered them.

As Jack sat on the lodge floor, rapidly recovering from his severeexertion, he became conscious of a peculiar feeling which manifesteditself at intervals. When he moved, he was slightly dizzy and his heartgave several throbs that were more rapid and spasmodic than usual. Heremained quiet, wondering what it could mean, but feeling much inclinedto lay it to the exciting scene through which he had just passed. Whenhe began to feel alarmed it passed off.

But if Jack counted on finding all the hours dull and monotonous, frombeing compelled to stay within the tepee or wigwam of the Saukchieftain, he was greatly mistaken. Shortly after eating hissupplementary breakfast, Ogallah went out, leaving the youth alone withthe squaw. This caused Jack some misgiving, for he feared his enemiesmight take advantage of the warrior's absence to punish him for hisvictory over the Indian youth. For some minutes he was in muchtrepidation, and the feeling was not lessened when he caught sight ofseveral coppery faces peeping through the door. However, they venturedon no greater liberties and after a time went away.

All at once a great uproar rose through the village. Shouting, whooping,screeching and all sorts of unimaginable noises rent the air. The soundof hurrying feet was heard, and it was evident that something of anextraordinary character was going on. Jack looked inquiringly at thesquaw, but, though she must have known the explanation, she failed forobvious reasons to make it clear to the captive.

Suddenly Ogallah came into the lodge. He uttered a few hurried words tohis wife and then beckoned Jack to follow him. The latter had shoved hisknife back in place, but did not venture to take his rifle which stoodat the other side of the lodge.

"I wonder what's up now," was the natural thought of the lad, as hehastened after him; "have they erected a stake in the middle of thevillage where I am to be roasted for the amusem*nt of the rest, or am Ito be put to a test which I won't be able to stand?"

But fortunately the boy was mistaken in both his theories. The hubbubhad no reference to him whatever.

Beginning the night before, a party of bucks and squaws had beenemployed until long after daylight in cooking the carcass of a bear,that was plump, oily and in the best condition. It was not very large,but where there was so little waste, it can be seen there must have beenconsiderable in the way of food.

The animal was now fairly roasted and the time for feasting had come.Jack understood that much when he ventured outside the lodge and saw thenumbers gathering around the "festive board." Naturally he clung closeto his protector, but one of the singular features attending hiscaptivity among this offshoot of the Sauk tribe of Indians, was thereadiness with which they transferred their attention from one object toanother. No one showed any curiosity in him when he appeared on thestreet—so to speak—but all pushed their way toward the one point ofinterest.

The shouting and uproar ceased when fourteen warriors marched forth inIndian file, and, arranging themselves around the brown crisp mass ofmeat, made ready to fall to work, the others watching them. They wereall fine looking fellows, their faces painted and their preparationscomplete for hostilities, with the exception that their rifles were leftaside, merely for convenience sake, until the end of the festivities.

Jack Carleton knew he was looking upon a war feast, as they are termedby the Indians, and which were more common among those people at thattime than they are to-day. The bear had been carefully cooked expresslyfor them, and looked grotesquely tempting, as the crisped, browned, andoily carcass dripped over the pile of branches and green leaves to whichthe cooks had carried it.

The American Indian is ridiculously superstitious, and he has as muchterror of an odd number at a war feast, as we have of being one ofthirteen at an ordinary dinner party. Under no circ*mstances would theSauks have permitted such a defiance of fate itself.

When the fourteen warriors had ranged themselves around the table, theystood for a minute or two, while the others held their breath inexpectancy. The tallest Indian, who was the leader of the littlecompany, suddenly whipped out his hunting knife and looked at theothers, who imitated him with military promptness. Then he muttered somecommand, and immediately the whole number sprang upon the waitingcarcass, which was carved up in a twinkling. Each cut himself anenormous slice, and, stepping back, began eating with the voracity of awolf, while the others looked admiringly on. The spectators had heldtheir peace so long that they broke forth again, not so loud as before,but grunting, chattering, and gesticulating like so many children, whileJack Carleton, taking good care to keep close to Ogallah his protector,furtively watched the scene.

The capacity of the red man for fasting and feasting is almostincredible. He will go for days without a mouthful, and then, when anabundance of food is presented, will gorge himself to an extent thatwould be sure death to an ordinary human being, after which he willsmoke, blink, and doze for several days more, just as the famous boaconstrictors of Africa are accustomed to do.

Such, however, is his habit only when driven by necessity. The Saukslived too far south of the frozen regions to suffer such hardships, butone of the requirements of the war-feast was that each one of the partyshould eat all that he had cut from the carcass. To fail to do so was asign of weakness sure to subject him to ridicule.

So resolutely did the warriors address themselves to the task, as it maybe called, that they succeeded with the exception of a single one. Twoor three, however, found it all they could do, and another mouthful ofthe coarse, oily meat, would have raised a rebellion within theirinternal economy, which would have caused general wreck and desolation.

The youthful warrior who failed was the one who was the most eager atthe first for the feast. He toiled like a hero, and all went well untilhe reached the last half pound. The others, grinning queerly throughtheir grease and paint, watched him as did the group on the outside ofthe circle, while he, fully alive to the fact that he was the center ofattention, went to work as if resolved to do or die.

It took several vigorous swallows to keep down the installment which haddescended, while he held the last piece in his hand and surveyed it withdoubtful eye. It finally rested uneasily on the stomach, and he lookedmore hopefully than ever at the remaining portion, suspended on thepoint of his hunting knife.

Evidently he was not afraid of that, if what had preceded it would onlykeep quiet. Finally he made a desperate resolve and quickly crammed hismouth with the oleaginous stuff, upon which he began chewing with savagevoracity. Possibly, if he could have got it masticated enough to forcedown his throat with only a few seconds' delay, all would have beenwell, but suddenly there was an upward heave of the chest, a sort ofgeneral earthquake; the eyes closed, and the mouth opened with a gape soprodigious that it seemed to extend from ear to ear, and threatened tobisect his head. That which followed may be left to the imagination ofthe reader.

General laughter and taunts greeted the failure, in which Ogallahheartily joined; but the warrior took it in good part, and doubtlessfelt better than did any of the others participating in the scene ofgluttony, inasmuch as his stomach was in its normal condition.

The war feast finished, the fourteen resumed the form of a circle, stoodmotionless a few minutes, and, all at once, began dancing in the mostfurious manner. The spectators joined, Ogallah as before being among themost vigorous in the lead, and in a brief while the strange scene waspresented of warriors, squaws, and children bounding about, swingingtheir arms and splitting their throats in the wildest excitement.

"I don't suppose it will do for me to be the only idle one," said JackCarleton with a laugh and a quick thrill, "so here goes!"

And with a "loud whoop" he leaped high in air, and began shouting in asdiscordant tones as those around him. In truth, there was no moreenthusiastic member of the company than young Carleton, who jumped,yelled, and conducted himself so much like an irrestrainable lunaticthat a spectator would have supposed he was setting the cue for theothers.

Ogallah and several of the warriors glanced at the pale face with somecuriosity, and probably a few comments were made upon the performance ofthe youth. Their precise tenor, as a matter of course, can only beconjectured, but Jack was confident they were of a complimentarycharacter, for the heartiness which he showed must have pleased them.

While going about in this hilarious fashion, there were many collisionsand overturnings. Once Jack bumped so violently against some one thatboth turned their heads and glared at each other. The offender was theIndian youth whom Jack had beaten so handsomely in the wrestling bout.For an instant the dusky lad held his hand on the knife in his girdle,and was on the point of rushing at Jack; but the latter meaninglygrasped the handle of his weapon, and returned his glare with equalfierceness.

It was enough, and the revelry continued. Had the Sauks been inpossession of firewater, the excitement would have intensified, untilweapons would have been drawn and a general fight precipitated,accompanied with loss of more than one life. Such is the outcome of mostof the similar feasts held among the red men all through the west: butthere was not a drop of intoxicating stuff within reach of the village,and thus the murderous wind-up of the festival was averted.

The dance lasted until many dropped from exhaustion. Jack Carleton wascompelled to cease from sheer weakness, and staggering to one side, satdown on what he supposed was a log, but which proved to be a very liveIndian who was also in quest of rest. Being extended on his face, hethrew up his back, much after the manner of a mustang when "bucking,"and Jack was sent sprawling.

"It don't make any difference," muttered the boy with a laugh, "for I'mso tired that I can rest in one place as well as another, and I'll waithere till the show is over."

And wait he did for the conclusion, which came very speedily.

CHAPTER XXVI.

AN ALARMING DISCOVERY.

When the war party grew weary of the furious dance, they stopped, formedthemselves in Indian file, and with the leader at the head, marched tothe tepee, where they had left their rifles. They reappeared a momentlater, each bearing his weapon in hand, and quickly reformed as before.Then all uttered several loud whoops, to which the enthusiasticsupporters responded with equal vim, and they marched in the same fileand with the same steady step toward the forest on the other side theclearing. Right soon they vanished from view among the trees. They hadgone in quest of scalps, but in the hunt more than one proud spiritedbrave was to lose his own natural head-gear, and of those who wentforth, the majority never came back again.

Now that the main cause of the hullabaloo was removed, the Sauks gainedmore time to view their immediate surroundings. When Jack tottered toone side to obtain the needed rest, he separated himself from Ogallah,who showed no signs of wearying of the terrific exercise.

"I guess it will be as well for me to hunt him up," was the decision ofthe youth, "for he may need my care."

But when the boy rose to his feet and looked around he saw nothing ofthe sachem, though all the rest of the village appeared to be in theimmediate neighborhood. None of them had offered to molest Jack, but hefelt great misgiving. Fortunately the lodge of the chieftain was notdistant.

While the dance was going on, an experience befell young Carleton whichhas not been told, but which should be given. In the bright glare of themorning sun, the countenance of every one was distinctly visible, andJack was impressed by the fact that one heavy, squat redskin was viewinghim with peculiar interest. He passed in front of the boy several times,and on each occasion cast a piercing glance at him.

This of itself might not have been so noticeable but for the impressionwhich deepened on Jack that he and the warrior had met at some othertime and in some other place.

He was impatient with himself because he could not recall thecirc*mstances. Had it been on the other side of the Mississippi, itwould have been no wonder, for, from his earliest boyhood he had beenaccustomed to seeing red men, and it would be impossible to rememberthem all; but he was convinced he had met the Indian since he and Ottohad immigrated to Louisiana.

Possibly Jack might have answered the question had he been given time tothink over it without disturbance; but he had scarcely begun to lookaround for Ogallah, when he was alarmed by the demonstrations of thecrowd around him. They began pushing forward, and the squaws andchildren showed an unpleasant disposition to lay hands on him.

There was no use of standing on dignity. In a few minutes he would behemmed in so he could not move, and the lodge of the chieftain was notfar away. Shoving a little screeching girl from his path, Jack boundedaway like a deer, straight for the shelter. The act was so sudden thatit threw him in advance of the rest, but there were plenty of runners asfleet as he, and despite the start he gained, several were at his heels,and one of them came very near tripping him. Jack pressed on, and,within a rod of the entrance to the kingly wigwam, the Indian who madethe attempt to trip him appeared at his side, and then threw himselfdirectly in front.

One glance showed the fugitive that it was the youth whom he hadoverthrown in the wrestling bout.

"Oh, it's you, is it?" exclaimed Jack; "you haven't had enough yet!"

And, quick as a flash, he drove his fist straight into the grinningvisage with all the force he could concentrate in his good right arm.The amazed youth described a back somerset, his moccasins up in the air,and his ugly nose flattened to the shape of a crimson turnip. Thenleaping over the prostrate figure, Jack made several bounds, and doveinto the lodge just in time to avoid colliding with Ogallah, who hadapproached the door from the inside to learn the cause of the newtumult.

The chief went far enough to obtain a good view of the audacious youthwho was in the act of climbing to his feet, and groping for his nose andprincipal features in a blind way, as though doubtful whether any ofthem were left. The clamoring rioters were scattered once more, Ogallahadding a few words, probably meant as a warning against theirpersecuting his ward, for it may as well be stated that from that timeforward the demonstrations against Jack were of a much less seriousnature.

"I suppose I've got to fight every time I go out of the lodge," saidyoung Carleton, with a dogged shake of the head; "they mean to kill mewhenever they gain the chance, and more than likely I'll have to go, butI'll make it cost them more than they count on. When I can't use myfists I'll use my knife."

The mistress of the establishment, seating herself at the other end ofthe lodge, lit her pipe with as much indifference as though nothingunusual had taken place. Her mongrel pup came trotting along the spacein his sidelong fashion and lay down with his nose against her slouchymoccasins, thereby proving his bravery, so far as any offense againsthis olfactories was concerned. Ogallah having made his speech andscattered the rabble, turned about and came slowly after the dog,seating himself near the middle of the lodge, where he also lit hislong-stemmed pipe.

Just then some one pushed the bison skin aside, and stepped within theresidence. Despite his sluggish manner, Ogallah flirted his head like aflash, probably suspecting that one of Jack's tormentors had dared tofollow him within his shelter. But the individual was a full-grownwarrior, who would not have descended to such business, and the grunt ofthe sachem was meant as a cordial welcome to him who grunted in return.

Jack Carleton also glanced at him, and was astonished not a little toobserve that he was the same warrior who had scrutinized him so closelywhile the war feast was going on, and whom, the youth was wellconvinced, he had met elsewhere.

There could be no mistake as to the interest which the visitor felt inthe captive, for his black, penetrating eyes were not removed from himduring the several minutes which followed his entry into the lodge. Notonly that, but halting in front of the lad, he began talking andgesticulating with useless vigor, inasmuch as Jack could not gain aninkling of what was meant. Indeed, had the youth attempted afterward todescribe the gestures, he would have referred to them all as pointless,excepting the series which consisted of a violent sweep of both arms tothe westward, after pointing his finger at the wondering Jack Carleton.Altogether at a loss as to their significance, it was fortunate (as willappear hereafter), that the lad was able to recall and describe themotions to another, who had a hundred fold more woodcraft and mentalacumen than he.

Poor Jack could only shake his head and smile sadly by way of reply tothis performance, and, after Ogallah had added something, the warriorceased, took his seat beside the chief and employed himself in smokingand talking.

"Who can he be? He knows me and I—ah! I remember!"

Sure enough, and why had he not thought of it before? He was one of thefive Indians who had left the other five and gone off with OttoRelstaub, on the day that he and Jack Carleton were captured by the bandso near their own home. More than that, Jack had seen the others thatsame morning in the village at the war feast, though the recollection ofthem was so shadowy that it had not caused him the perplexity producedby the appearance of the warrior before him.

With the truth came the startling question—Where was Otto? While hiscaptors were in the village, he certainly was elsewhere. What had becomeof him?

The question fairly took away the breath of Jack and made him faint atheart.

"He can't be at home, for Otto never could have made his escape fromthem; he must be dead!"

The first declaration of the youth my reader knows was true, for thevisit of Deerfoot, several days later to Martinsville, as has beendescribed, proved it. As to the second theory, that will be investigatedin due time.

One of the most trying features of this occurrence was the certaintyJack felt that the Indian visitor was trying to tell him something aboutOtto. Those swinging arms, swaying head and apoplectic grunting carrieda message within themselves, which, if translated would be found ofgreat importance; but alas! the interpreter had not come.

While the lad sat on the bison robe, reflecting over the matter, hebecame aware of the peculiar sensations that alarmed him some timebefore. His head was dizzy, a curious lightness took possession of hislimbs, and he felt that if he should undertake to cross the lodge, hewould stagger and fall like a drunken man.

"I'm going to be ill," he said, pressing his hand to his forehead;"something is wrong with me."

The shock which came with the conviction was deepened by the belief thathe was about to go through the experience that had befallen poor OttoRelstaub.

"He fell sick while tramping through the woods with the Indians, andthey have either tomahawked or left him to die. These people with alltheir Medicine Men and Women know nothing about curing sick folks, andif I do become ill that will be the end of me."

The boy was in anything but a cheerful frame of mind, but he faced theposition like a hero. He did not lose heart, though he was sure that hissituation was worse than ever before, and he did not forget any of theincidents of the journey from Kentucky to Louisiana, when many a timethere seemed not the slightest ground for hope.

After smoking awhile Ogallah and his visitor got up and went out doors.The chief was gone but a short time when he came back, and, as heresumed his seat, grunted out something to his squaw, who immediatelylaid down her pipe, tenderly shoved the nose of her dog aside and leftthe place.

While Jack was wondering what the meaning of these movements could be,the attack of weakness which had alarmed him passed off, like thefleeing shadow of a cloud. It was followed by a natural rebound ofspirits, and he too rose to his feet and walked toward the door.

The sachem looked inquiringly at him, but showed no objection to hisdeparture. The boy placed his hand at his waist to make sure his huntingknife was there, and at the entrance paused a moment in doubt.

"I wonder whether they will set on me again," he said to himself; "ifthey do I will use my weapon—that's certain, and then there will be abigger rumpus than before."

The knowledge that the chief who had served so many times as friend wasnear at hand added much to Jack's courage, when he finally let thebison-skin door drop behind him.

The explanation of the squaw's departure was manifest at once. She had along sharpened stick in her hands, with which she was stirring the eartharound some hills of corn growing on a small plot near their lodge.Extending his gaze, Jack saw many other squaws engaged in the samemanner, but among them all was not a single man. They were lolling intheir wigwams, smoking or dozing, or hunting in the woods for game orscalps.

The younger members of the community seemed to be the happiest of all. Anumber were playing by the river, and some were plunging into thestream, swimming, diving, and disporting themselves like porpoises;others were deep in some kind of game, on the clearing near the woods,and all were as shouting and demonstrative as so many civilizedyoungsters engaged in a game of ball.

Anxious to learn whether his last affray with his persecutors was likelyto lessen or increase their hostility, Jack Carleton gradually advancedfrom the lodge until he was close to the group playing on the largecleared space, while those by the river were much nearer his refuge thanhe.

This was assuming considerable risk, as all must admit, but the boy tookit with much caution and with his eyes wide open, meaning to make themost hurried kind of retreat the instant it might become necessary.

CHAPTER XXVII.

"GAH-HAW-GE."

Naturally enough, when Jack Carleton found himself standing close to thefrolicking Indian boys on the clearing, he became interested in the gamethey were playing, which he saw was systematic, and in which all tookpart.

Like amusem*nts of that sort, it was simple in its character and hequickly caught its drift. The boys divided themselves into two partiesequal in numbers, one of which was ranged in line at the right of theclearing near the wood, while the other did the same at the other goal,which was a stump close to the stream. Each boy held a stick with aforked end in his hand, that being the implement with which the game isplayed.

When all was ready, one of the youthful Sauks walked out from the partynear the woods, holding the stick with the crotch of a small branchsupported at the point of bifurcation. This crotch was four or fiveinches in length, and as it was carried aloft, it looked like aninverted V, raised high so that all might see it.

Pausing in the middle of the clearing, the dusky lad with a flirt of thestick, flung the crotch a dozen feet in air and uttered a shout whichwas echoed by every one of the waiting players. Both sides made afurious rush toward the middle of the playground, where they cametogether like two mountain torrents, and the fun began. The strife wasto get the crotch of wood to one of the goals, and each side fought asstrenuously to help it along toward his own, as a side of foot-ballplayers struggle to do the opposite in a rough and tumble fight for thecollege championship.

Inasmuch as the only helps to be employed were the long, forked stickscarried in their hands, it will be seen that the game offered aboundless field for the roughest sort of play, mingled with no littledexterity and skill. Some swarthy-hued rascal, while on a dead run,would thrust the point of his stick under the crotch, and lifting ithigh above his head, start or rather continue with might and main towardhis goal. At that time, as, indeed, at every minute, each young Americanwas literally yelling like so many "wild Indians." Desperately as theyouth ran, others more fleet of foot speedily overtook him, and one,reaching forward while going like a deer, lifted the crotch from theother stick, and circling gracefully about, sped for his own goal. Butsome youth at his heels leaped in air and with a sweep of his own stickstruck the other and sent the crotch spinning and doubling through theair. A dozen other sticks were plunged after it, but it fell to theground, and then the fight reached its climax. The parties became onewild, desperate, shouting, yelling, scrambling mob. Legs and arms seemedto be flying everywhere, and the wonder was that a score of limbs andnecks were not broken. But it rarely hurts a boy to become hurt, andthough bruises were plenty, no one suffered serious harm. After a fewminutes' struggle, the crotch would be seen perched on the stick of oneof the boys, who, fighting his way through the mob, ran with astonishingspeed, with friends and foes converging upon him, and the certainty thathe would be tripped and sent flying heels over head, before he couldreach safety.

After awhile, when the prize had been gradually worked toward the goalof the stronger party, some youth, by a piece of skill and daring,would make a dash for home and bear down all opposition. It followed, ofcourse, that his side had won, and, after a brief rest, the game wasrenewed and pressed with the same vigor as before.

This Indian boy's game is still played by many Indian tribes. Among theSenecas it is called "Gah-haw-ge," and I make no doubt that more thanone reader of these pages has witnessed the exciting amusem*nt, which sothrilled the blood of Jack Carleton that he could hardly restrainhimself from taking part in the fun. But he had no crotched stick,without which he would have been a cypher, and then, as he had neverattempted the game, he knew he possessed no skill. The venture wouldhave been rash, for in the excited state of the Indian youths, and armedas they were with sticks, it is almost certain that at some stage of thegame they would have turned on the pale face and beaten him to death.

The rough amusem*nt lasted fully two hours, during which Jack Carletonand many of the warriors were interested spectators. At last theyoungsters became weary and the sport ended. As the stumpy youthsstraggled apart, the perspiration on their faces caused them to shinelike burnished copper. All at once one of them emitted a whoop and brokeinto a swift run, the rest instantly falling in behind him, and speedingwith the same hilarious jollity.

The heart of Jack Carleton stood still, for the leading Indian wascoming straight toward him.

"They're aiming for me," was his conclusion, as he gripped the handle ofhis knife and half drew it from his girdle.

But the whooping youth swerved a little to the right, and was ten feetaway from the terrified captive when he dashed by with unabated speed.He did not so much as glance at Jack, nor did the procession ofscreeching, bobbing moon-faces, as they streamed past, give him theleast attention.

The lad who set off with the lead, kept it up with undiminished speed,until he reached the edge of the river. Then he made a leap high upwardand outward. Jack saw the crouching figure, with the head bent forward,the arms crooked at the elbow, and the legs doubled at the knees, duringthe single breath that it seemed suspended in the air. Then describing abeautiful parabola, he descended, and striking the water, sent the sprayflying in every direction, while the body went to the bottom. The othersfollowed, so fast that the dusky forms dropped like hailstones, tumbledover each other, splashed, dove, frolicked, shouted, and acted with thesame abandon as before.

It is by such sports and training that the American Indian acquires hisfleetness, high health, and powers of endurance.

But Jack had grown weary of watching the antics of the youngsters, andturned about and walked homeward. He saw from the position of the sunthat it was near noon, and he was hungry; but he was more impressed bythe change of treatment since his last affray than by anything else. Hewalked past five separate wigwams before reaching the imperialresidence, which for the time being was his own. There were warriors,girls, and squaws lounging near each one. They raised their repellantfaces and looked at the captive with no little curiosity, but offeredhim no harm.

When half way home, the flapping door of one of the conical wigwams waspushed aside, and the stooping figure of a large Indian boystraightened up and walked toward Jack, who, with an odd feeling,recognized him as the youth whom he had overthrown in wrestling, andafterwards knocked off his feet by a blow in the face.

"I wonder whether he means to attack me?" Jack asked himself, in doubtfor the moment as to what he should do. At first he thought he wouldturn aside so as to give the young Sauk plenty of room; but that struckhim as impolitic, for it would show cowardice.

"No, I won't give him an inch; he is alone, and if he wants another row,I'm agreeable."

It was hard for Jack to restrain a smile when he looked at the face ofthe Indian. It was exceptionally repulsive in the first place, but theviolent blow on the nose had caused that organ to assume double itsoriginal proportion, and there was a puffy, bulbous look about the wholecountenance which showed how strongly it "sympathized" with the injuredpart.

Although the American Indian, as a rule, can go a long time, like theeagle, without winking his eyes, this youth was obliged to keep up acontinual blinking, which added to his grotesque appearance, as withshoulders thrown back and a sidelong scowl he strode toward the river.Jack returned the scowl with interest, and it scarcely need be said thatthe two did not speak as they passed by.

Feeling some fear of treachery, the captive kept his ears open, andwatched over his shoulder until he reached his own wigwam, where hestood for a moment and gazed in the direction of the river, which waspartly shut out by one of the intervening lodges. He was just in time tosee the young Sauk of the battered countenance leap into the river,where, doubtless, he was able to do much toward reducing theinflammation of his organ of smell.

When the captive entered his home as it may be called, he saw thechieftain stretched flat on his back and snoring frightfully. The dogwas asleep on the other side the fire, and the squaw, after toiling solong in the "corn field," was preparing the mid-day meal. She was a typeof her sex as found among the aborigines, as her husband, even though amonarch, was a type of the lazy vagabond known as the American warrior.

At the side of the queen lay the gourd which usually contained water.Peeping into the round hole of the upper side, she shook the utensil,and the few drops within jingled like silver. She snatched it up, lookedtoward Jack, and grunted and nodded her head. If the lad could notunderstand the language of the visitor sometime before, he had no suchdifficulty in the case of the squaw. With real eagerness he sprangforward and hastened out of the wigwam to procure what was needed.

The one visit which he made the spring in the morning had rendered himfamiliar with the route, and it took but a minute or two for him to fillthe gourd and start on his return. He found that a number of young girlshad followed him, and were at his heels all the way back; but, thoughthey talked a good deal about him, and displayed as much curiosity astheir brothers, they did not molest him. Once, when they ventured rathertoo close, Jack whipped out his knife, raised it on high, and made aleap at them, expanding his eyes to their widest extent, and shouting inhis most terrifying tone, "Boo!"

It produced the effect desired. The young frights scattered with screamsof terror, and hardly ventured to peep out of their homes at the ogrestriding by.

When Jack entered the lodge he found Ogallah awake. Evidently he was notin good humor, for his manner showed he was scolding his much betterhalf, who accepted it all without reply or notice. No doubt she receivedit as part of the inevitable.

The chief, however, refrained from following the civilized custom ofbeating the wife, and when the meat and a species of boiled greens werelaid on the block of wood which answered for a table, his ill-moodseemed to have passed, and he ate with his usual relish and enjoyment.

Jack Carleton crossed his legs like a tailor at his side of the board,but before he could eat a mouthful a violent nausea seized him, his headswam, and he was on the verge of fainting. Ogallah and his squaw noticedhis white face and looked wonderingly at him.

"I'm very ill!" gasped Jack, springing to his feet, staggering a fewsteps, and then lunging forward on the bison skin, where he flunghimself down like one without hope.

The violence of the attack quickly subsided, but there remained afaintness which drove away every particle of appetite, and it was wellthat such was the case, for had he taken any food in his condition theresult must have been serious.

Meanwhile the squaw had assumed her place at the table by her liegelord, and both were champing their meal as though time was limited, andthere was no call to feel any interest in the poor boy who lay on hisrude couch, well assured that his last illness was upon him.

"What do they care for me?" muttered Jack, his fright yielding to afeeling of resentment, as the violence of the attack subsided. "I wonderthat they spared my life so long. They would have been more merciful hadthey slain me in the woods as they did Otto, instead of bringing me hereto be tormented to death, and as I know they mean to do with me."

Lying on his arm, he glared at the couple with a revengeful feeling thatwas extraordinary under the circ*mstances. A morbid conviction fasteneditself upon him that Ogallah had taken him to his lodge for the purposeof keeping him until he was in the best physical condition, when hewould subject him to a series of torturing and fatal ceremonies for theamusem*nt of the entire village.

In the middle of these remarkable sensations exhausted nature succumbed,and the captive fell asleep.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

A PATIENT OF THE MEDICINE MAN.

When Jack Carleton awoke, it was night and the rain was falling. He wasfeverish and his brain was so overwrought that it was a full minutebefore he could call to mind where he was. His slumber had beendisturbed toward the latter part by dreams as wild, vague andunimaginable as those which taunt the brain of the opium eater.

When he remembered that he was in the wigwam of Ogallah, the chieftain,he turned upon his side and raised his head on his elbow. The fire atthe other end of the apartment that had been burning brightly, had gonedown somewhat, but enough remained to light up the interior so that thefamiliar objects could be seen with considerable distinctness.

He observed the figure of the sachem stretched out in the dilapidatedslouchiness peculiar to himself. He did not bother to remove any of hisclothing, and, though the place was quite chilly he drew none of thebison robes over him. He had lain down on one, but had managed in someway to kick it half way across the lodge, and his couch, therefore, wasthe simple earth, which served better than a kingly bed of eider downcould have done.

The favorite posture of the queenly consort was not a prone one, butthat of crouching in a heap near the coals, where, with a blanket thathad never been washed since it was put together years before, gatheredabout her shoulders, her skinny arms clasping her knees and her headbowed forward, she would sleep for hours at a time. The reflection ofthe flickering flames against her figure caused it to look grotesque inthe fitful light, and the captive gazed at her for a long time, led todo so by an infatuation which was not strange under the circ*mstances.

There, too, was the dog which, could he have been given his way, wouldhave done nothing all his life but sleep and eat. As was his custom, hewas at the feet of his mistress, a position which he seemed to preferabove all others. Then the blankets, deer and bison skins, and rudearticles hanging about the room, the two columns in the centersupporting the clumsy roof, the craggy logs and sticks at the side, thehanging skin which served as a door and was barely visible, the tumbledown appearance of everything, and withal the solemn stillness whichbrooded within the lodge: all these made the scene weird and impressivein a striking degree.

The fire burned so fitfully that it threw ghostly shadows about theapartment, sometimes flooding it with light, and again falling so lowthat the other end of the lodge could not be seen at all. Without, thenight could not have been more dismal. There was no thunder orlightning, and the rain fell with that steady patter on the leaves,which at ordinary times forms the most soothing accompaniment of sleep,but which to Jack Carleton only added to his dismal dejection ofspirits.

The roof of the lodge was so thick and diversified in its compositionthat the music of the patter on the shingles was lost. At intervals thewind stirred the limbs, and, though none of the trees were very close,the lad could hear the soughing among the branches, as the hunter hearsit in early autumn when the leaves begin to fall.

Could the melancholy croaking of frogs in the distance have fallen onthe ears of the boy, he would have had all the factors that go to bringon the most absolute loneliness of which a human being is capable.Unfortunately Jack did not need that addition to render his miserycomplete, for it was furnished by his own condition and situation.

"I am many long, long miles from home," he reflected, as a sharp paingyrated through his brain, and the flickering fire seemed to be bobbingup and down and back and forth in a witches' dance; "and little hope isthere of my ever seeing mother again. Ah, if I was only there now!"

He let his head fall back and heaved a deep sigh. He recalled his plainbut comfortable bed, which became the most deliciously comfortable themind can conceive, when his mother shoved the blankets in about him, or"tucked him up," as she never failed to do every evening he was at home;the good-night kiss from those affectionate lips; the magic touch ofthose fingers which pushed back the hair from his forehead, ere shebent over him with the last salute; the loving, caressing care when hewas threatened with the slightest illness, which made the boy long forillness for the sake of such care: these and other blessed memories cameback with a power which caused the eyes to overflow with sorrow.

Ah, fortunate is that boy, even though his years carry him to the vergeof full manhood, who has his mother to watch over his waking andsleeping hours, and her prayers to follow his footsteps through life.

The pattering rain, the sighing wind, and the ghostly, semi-darknesssoothed the sachem and his wife, but Jack Carleton was as wide awake aswhen pushing across the Mississippi in the half overturned canoe, withthe fierce Shawanoes firing at him and his friends. Probably, in theentire Indian village, he was the only one who was awake. Had a band ofSioux or Iroquois stolen through the woods and descended on the Sauksthey would have been found defenceless and unprepared.

Through one of the crevices behind Jack, came a draught of wind which,striking him on his shoulders, caused him to shiver. He moved a littledistance away, and drew the bison robe closer about him, for though araging fever was coursing through his veins, he knew the danger ofsubjecting himself to such exposure.

He was consumed with thirst, and seeing the clumsy gourd by the side ofthe sleeping squaw, he crawled forward on his hands and knees in thehope of finding water in it. Fortunately there was an abundance and hetook a long, deep draught of the fluid, which was not very fresh norcold, but which was the most refreshing he had ever swallowed.

Creeping back to his primitive couch, he continued a deep mentaldiscussion of the question whether the best thing he could do was not tosteal out of the lodge and make a break for home. There could be little,if any doubt, as to the ease with which such a start could be made. Hehad only to rise to his feet, pass through the deer-skin door, which wasmerely tied in position, and he could travel miles before morning andbefore his absence would be noted. The falling rain would obliterate histrail, so that the keen eyes of the Sauks would be unable to follow it,and he could make assurance doubly sure by taking to the water until abloodhound would turn up his nose in disgust. Furthermore, he wasconfident that he would be able to obtain possession of his rifle andenough ammunition with which to provide himself food on the way home.

This was what may be called the rose-colored view of the scheme, whichhad a much more practical side. While under ordinary circ*mstances Jackwould have been able to take care of himself at a much greater distancefrom home, and in a hostile country, yet the alarming fact remained,that he was seriously ill and such exposure was almost certain to drivehim delirious, with the certainty of death to follow very speedily.

Though he took such a gloomy view of his own position among the Sauks(whose tribal name, of course, he had not yet learned), he was notwithout a certain degree of hope. He had suffered no harm thus far andit is always the unexpected which happens. While he had declared tohimself that Ogallah was simply training him for the torture, as it maybe expressed, yet it might be the chieftain being without children,meant to adopt him as a son. If such was his intention, manifestly, thebest thing for Jack to do was to lie still and prayerfully await theissue of events. No doubt if you or I were in his sad predicament, thatis the course that would have been followed, but Jack could not bringhimself to submit to such inactivity when the prospect of liberty wasbefore him. Allowance, too, must be made for the condition of the boy.He was scarcely himself, when, compressing his lips, he muttered,

"I won't stay here! They mean to kill me and I may as well die in thewoods! I will take my gun and go out in the night and storm, and trustin God to befriend me as He has always done."

Aye, so He had; and so He will always befriend us, if we but use ouropportunities and fly not in His face.

Carefully he rose to his feet, and, gathering the bison robe around hisfevered frame, glanced at the two unconscious figures, and then at theform of his rifle leaning against the side of the lodge and dimlyrevealed in the flickering firelight.

As he stepped forward to recover his gun, everything in the room swambefore his eyes, a million bees seemed to be humming in his brain, and,clutching the air in a vague way, he sank back on his couch with agroan, which awakened Ogallah and his squaw. The chief came to thesitting position with a surprising quickness, while the wife opened hereyes and glared through the dim firelight at the figure. The dogslumbered on.

Ogallah seeing that it was only the captive who was probably dying, layback again on the bare earth and resumed his sleep. The woman watchedthe lad for several minutes as if she felt some interest in learningwhether a pale face passed away in the same manner as one of her ownrace. Inasmuch as the sick boy was so long in settling the question, sheclosed her eyes and awaited a more convenient season.

From the moment Jack Carleton succumbed, helpless in the grasp of thefiery fever, he became sick nigh unto death. Those who have been soafflicted need no attempt to tell his experience or feelings. Why heshould have fallen so critically ill, cannot be judged with certainty,nor is it a question of importance; the superinducing cause probably layin the nervous strain to which he was subjected.

He instantly became delirious and remained so through the night. Hetalked of his mother, of Deerfoot, of Otto, and of others; was fleeingfrom indescribable dangers, and he frequently cried out in his fright.The chief and his squaw heard him and understood the cause, but neverraised their hands to give him help.

Jack became more quiet toward morning and fell into a fitful sleep whichlasted until the day was far advanced. Then, when he opened his eyes,his brain still somewhat clouded, he uttered a gasp of dismay andterror.

Crouching in the lodge beside him was the most frightful object on whichhe had ever looked. It had the form of a man, but was covered with skinslike those of a bear and bison, and a long thick horn projected fromeach corner of the forehead. The face, which glared out from thisunsightly dress, was covered with daubs, rings and splashes of red,white and black paint, applied in the most fantastic fashion. The blackeyes, encircled by yellow rings, suggested a resemblance to some serpentor reptilian monster. The figure held a kind of rattle made of hollowhorn in either hand, and was watching the countenance of the sick boywith close attention. When he saw the eyes open, he made a leap in theair, began a doleful chant, swayed the rattles and leaped about thelodge in the most grotesque dance that can be imagined. Ogallah and hissquaw were not present, so Jack had the hideous creature all to himself.

Enough sense remained with the boy for him to know that he was theMedicine Man of the tribe, whom the chieftain had been kind enough tosend to his help. Instead of giving the youth the few simple remedies herequired, he resorted to incantation and sorcery as has been theircustom for hundreds of years. The barbarian fraud continued to chant andrattle and dance back and forth, until Jack's eyes grew weary offollowing the performance. The mind, too, which was so nigh its ownmaster in the morning, grew weaker, and finally let go its hold.Sometimes the waltzing Medicine Man suddenly lengthened to the height ofa dozen yards; sometimes he was bobbing about on his head, and again hewas ten times as broad as he was long, and hopping up and down on oneshort leg. From the other side of the lodge he often made a bound thatlanded him on the bison skin, which lay over the breast of the sick boy,where he executed a final tattoo that drove the last vestige ofconsciousness from him.

It was all a torturing jumble of wild and grim fancies, with occasionalglimmerings of reason, which led Jack to clutch the air as if he wouldnot let them go; but they whisked away in spite of all he could do, anda black "rayless void" descended upon and gathered round about him,until the mind was lost in its own overturnings and struggles, and allconsciousness of being departed.

CHAPTER XXIX.

CONVALESCENCE.

As nearly as can be ascertained, Jack Carleton lay the major part offour days in the Indian lodge, sick nigh unto death, with his braintopsy turvy. During that time he never received a drop of medicine, andscarcely any attention. The chief was gone most of each day, and thesquaw spent many hours out doors, looking after her "farm." When thepatient became unusually wild, she would give him a drink of water andattend to his wants. A few of the Indians peeped through the door, butas a whole they showed surprising indifference to the fate of thecaptive. Had he died, it is not likely he would have been given evenIndian burial.

Several times the Medicine Man put in an appearance, and danced andhooted and sounded his rattles about the lodge, after which he tookhimself off and would not be seen again for many hours.

On the fourth day, while Jack was lying motionless on his bison skin andlooking up to the composite roof, his full reason returned to him.Indeed, his brain appeared to have been clarified by the scorchingordeal through which it had passed, and he saw things with crystallineclearness. Turning his head, he found he was alone in the lodge, and, asnearly as he could judge, the afternoon was half gone. The fire had diedout, but the room was quite warm, showing there had been a rise oftemperature since the night of the rain. Peering through the crevicesnearest him, he observed the sunlight was shining, and could catchtwinkling glimpses of Indians moving hither and thither; but there wasno outcry or unusual noise, and business was moving along in itsaccustomed channel.

With some trepidation and misgiving, Jack rose on his elbow and thencarefully assumed the sitting position. Every vestige of dizziness hadfled, and his head was as clear as a bell. He was sensible, too, of afaint and increasing desire for food; but he was equally conscious thathe was very weak, and it must be days before he could recover his normalstrength.

After sitting for a few minutes, he threw the bison skin from him, androse to his feet. Having held the prone position so long, he feltdecidedly queer when he stood erect once more. But he walked back andforth, and knew within himself that the crisis of his illness had passedand he was convalescent.

Of course it was Jack's vigorous constitution and the recuperating powerof nature which, under Heaven, brought him round. The medicine man hadno more to do with his recovery than have many of our modern medicinemen, who, sit beside the gasping patient, feel his pulse, look at histongue and experiment with the credulous dupe.

Jack Carleton possessed enough sense to appreciate his condition. Verylittle sickness had he ever known in life, but there had been plenty ofit around him, and his mother was one of those nurses, whose knowledgefar exceeded that of the ordinary physician, and whose presence in thesick room is of itself a balm and blessing.

The boy knew, therefore, from what he had learned from her, that thetime had come when he must be extremely careful what he ate and how heconducted himself. Moving over to the unattractive table, he found somescraps of meat left. They were partly cooked, but likely as good for himas anything could have been. He ate considerable, chewing it finely, andfinding his appetite satisfied much sooner than he anticipated.

But that for which Jack longed above everything else was a plunge in thecool water. His underclothing sorely needed changing, and he would havebeen absolutely happy could he have been in the hands of his tidy motherif only for a brief while.

However, there was no help for him, and he could only wait and hope forbetter things. After he had resumed his seat on the bison skins, aproject took shape in his mind, which was certainly a wise and prudentone, with promises of good results. Knowing he was recovering rapidly,he resolved to keep the fact from his captors. While still gainingstrength and vigor, he would feign weakness and illness, on the watchfor a chance that was sure to come sooner or later, and which he wouldthus be able to improve to the utmost.

Convalescence revived with ten-fold force the desire to end his Indiancaptivity and return home. Uncertain as he was of the time that hadpassed since starting on his hunt, he knew that it was long enough toawaken the most poignant anguish on the part of his loved mother, whomust suffer far more, before, under the most favorable circ*mstances, hecould return.

When it was growing dark, Ogallah and his squaw entered. The latterquickly had the fire going and, as its glow filled the room, both lookedinquiringly at the patient on the other side the lodge. He in turnassumed, so far as it was possible, the appearance of a person in thelast collapse, and took care that the expression of his countenanceshould show no more intelligence and vivacity than that of an idiot.

The couple exchanged a few words, probably referring to Jack, but theyseemed to care little for him, and he was glad that he excited so slightinterest, since they were less likely to suspect the deception he waspracticing upon them. The squaw, after cooking the meat, brought a pieceover to Jack, who stared in an absurd fashion before shaking his head,and she turned about and resumed her place by the table, after whichshe lit her pipe and squatted near the fire.

The patient soon fell into a refreshing sleep, which lasted until itbegan growing light, when he awoke, feeling so well that it was hard tokeep from leaping in the air with a shout, and dashing out doors. He wassure that he could hold his own in a game of gah-haw-ge, if the chancewere only given.

But he resolutely forced down his bounding spirits, though he could notsuppress the feeling of hunger which was fast assuming a ravenousintensity. When the squaw offered him a half cooked piece of meat, hesnatched at it with such wolf-like fierceness that the squaw recoiledwith a grunt of dismay. Jack made sure he had secured the prize, when hedevoured every particle, which luckily was enough fully to satisfy hisappetite.

Whenever the boy saw the chief or his squaw looking at him, he assumedthe role of a dunce, and it must be confessed he played it withunquestionable fidelity to nature. He probably afforded considerableamusem*nt to the royal couple who could have had no suspicion that thehopeful youth was essaying a part.

When the forenoon was well along, the chief and his squaw went out, thelatter probably to do the manual labor, while the former occupiedhimself with "sitting around" and criticising the style in which she ranthe agricultural department of the household. The dog rose, stretched,yawned and then lay down again and resumed his slumber. Jack wasmeditating what was best to do, when the door was pushed aside, and thefrightful-looking Medicine Man crouched to the middle of the lodge andglared at the patient, who looked calmly back again, as though he feltno special interest in him or anything else, but all the same Jackwatched him with more entertainment than he had ever felt before.

First of all, the man with the horns and rattles, took amazingly longsteps on the toes of his moccasins around the apartment between the two"columns" which supported the roof, as though afraid of awaking thebaby. At the end of each circumambulation, he would squat like a frogabout to leap off the bank into the water, and glare at the boy, thecorners of whose mouth were twitching with laughter at the grotesqueperformance.

When tired of this, the Medicine Man stopped in the middle of theapartment, and all at once began using his rattles to the utmost, anddancing with the vigor of a howling dervish. He accompanied, or ratheradded to the racket, by a series of "hooh-hoohs!" which were not loud,but exceedingly dismal in their effect.

The sudden turmoil awoke the canine, which raised his head, andsurveying the scene for a moment, rose, as if in disgust, and started totrot outdoors to escape the annoyance. As he did so, he passed directlybehind the Medicine Man, who, of course, did not see him. At the propermoment he made a backward leap, struck both legs against the dog, andthen tumbled over him on his back, with his heels pointing toward theroof. The angered pup, with a yelp of pain and rage, turned about,inserted his teeth in the most favorable part of the body, and thenlimped out of the wigwam with a few more cries, expressive of hisfeelings. The Medicine Man gave one frenzied kick and screech as theteeth of the canine sank into his flesh, and, scrambling to his feet,dashed out of the lodge with no thought of the dignity belonging to hisexalted character.

Jack Carleton rolled over on his back and laughed till the tears randown his cheeks and he could scarcely breathe. It was the funniest sceneon which he had ever looked, and the reaction, following his long mentaldepression, shook him from head to foot with mirth, as he had never beenshaken before. He could not have restrained himself had his life been atstake. After awhile, he would rub the tears from his eyes, and breakforth again, until, absolutely, he could laugh no more.

Laughter is one of the best tonics in the world, and that whichconvulsed Jack Carleton was the very medicine he needed. Though stillweak, he felt so well that he could not have felt better.

"I've no business here," he exclaimed, coming sharply to the uprightposition and running his fingers through his hair in a business-likefashion; "every nerve in my body is just yearning for the cool breath ofthe woods, and I feel as though I could run and tumble over themountains all day and feel the better for it. But I must keep it up tillthe way opens."

After thinking over the matter, he decided to venture outside. Rising tohis feet, he walked briskly to the door, pulled the skin aside andpassed out, immediately assuming the manner and style of a boy who wasbarely able to walk and then only with the greatest pain.

He expected a crowd would instantly gather around him, but he actuallylimped all the way to the spring without attracting any specialattention. It was inevitable that a number should see him, and twoyoungsters called out something, but he made no response and theyforebore to molest him further.

"If I should meet that chap that has found out he can't wrestle as wellas he thought he could, he will hardly be able to keep his hands off me.Maybe he would find he had made another mistake, and maybe it would be Iwho was off my reckoning. However, I've my knife with me, and I will usethat on him if there is any need of it, but I hope there won't be."

The water tasted deliciously cool and pure, and he bathed his hands andface again and again in it. He longed to take a plunge into the river,but that would have been impolitic, and he restrained the yearning untila more convenient season should offer.

Jack finally turned about and began plodding homeward, his eyes andears open for all that could be seen and heard. It was a clear warm day,and the village was unusually quiet. Some of the squaws were workingwith their primitive hoes, the children were frolicking along the edgeof the wood, where the shade protected them from the sun, and thewarriors were lolling within the tepees or among the trees. More thanlikely the major part of the large boys were hunting or fishing.

Sure enough, Jack was still beyond the limits of the village, when hesaw his old antagonist walking toward him. The Indian lad was alone, butseveral squaws and warriors were watching his movements, as though hehad promised them some lively proceedings. Jack noticed that his nosehad assumed its normal proportions, from which he concluded that moretime than was actually the case had elapsed since he himself wasprostrated by illness. The pugnacious youth advanced in his waryfashion, gradually slackening his gait until nearly opposite the paleface, who felt that the exigencies of the situation demanded he shouldbrace up so as to impress the youth with the peril of attacking him.

While several paces separated the two, the Indian came to a halt, as ifwaiting for the other. It would not do to show any timidity, and,without changing in the least his pace, the pale faced youth partly drewhis knife from his girdle and muttered with a savage scowl:

"I'm ready for you, young man!"

CHAPTER XXX.

OUT IN THE WORLD.

It cannot be doubted that the Indian youth intended to make an assaulton Jack Carleton. He must have known of his prostrating illness andconcluded that he was a much less dangerous individual than when theyfirst met; but there was something in the flash of the captive's eye anda meaning in the act of drawing his knife part way from his girdle,which caused the young Sauk to hesitate. Evidently he concluded thatmuch could be said for and against the prudence of opening hostilities.

Jack strode forward, with his shoulders thrown back and a scowl, asthough he preferred that the youth should make the attack. He kept hisgaze on the savage until some distance beyond him, the latter turning asif on a pivot and narrowly watching him to the very door of the lodge.Jack then withdrew his attention and took a survey of matters in front.

The same quiet which he had noticed a short time before held reign. Thefew Indians moving about paid no attention to the lad, with theexception, perhaps, of one: that was Ogallah, the chieftain who had justnoticed him on his return from the spring. The noble head of the bandwas lolling in the shade of one of the wigwams, discussing affairs ofstate with one of his cabinet, when he observed the youth. Summoning allhis latent energy, he rose to his feet and strolled in the direction ofhis own home. The moment Jack saw him, he assumed the most woe-begoneappearance it was possible to wear. The defiant attitude and manner,which were a challenge of themselves, vanished: the shoulders droopedforward: the step became slouchy and uncertain, and the poor fellowlooked as if about to sink to the ground in a final collapse.

Pretending not to see the sachem, Jack feebly drew the bison skin asideand pitched into the lodge. Glancing around, he found he was alone,whereupon he strode straight across the space, lay back on his couch,and kicked up his heels like a crowing infant.

"I must work off some of this steam or I shall burst," he said tohimself, rolling and tumbling about in the very abandon of rapidconvalescence: "It's hard work for me to play sick, but it must be donefor the big prize that is at stake."

He kept close watch on the entrance, and, when a hand suddenly drew theskin aside and the bent figure of the chieftain came through andstraightened up within the lodge, young Carleton had the appearance of aperson whose sands of life were nearly run out.

Ogallah walked forward and examined him closely. He saw a youth who wasunquestionably a "pale face," staring vacantly at him for a few seconds,and who then rolled on his face with a groan that must have been heardsome distance beyond the lodge. Restless flingings of the limbsfollowed, and, when the sachem turned away, he must have concluded thatit would never be his privilege to adopt the young gentleman into hisfamily.

Toward night the squaw and dog appeared and the domestic economy of theaboriginal residence went on as before. When a piece of cooked meat wasbrought to Jack, he devoured it with a ferocity which threatenedincurable dyspepsia, and he swallowed a goodly draught of water freshlybrought from the spring.

Recalling the mistake he made while on the journey through the woods tothe village, Jack Carleton resolved he would not fail through anysimilar forgetfulness. He fell asleep at that time on account of hisexhaustion, but now the case was different: he had had enough slumber tolast two days, while his brain was so clear and full of the scheme thatit was impossible for him to rest until after it had been tested.

Nothing is more weary than the waiting which one has to undergo whenplaced in his position. The hours drag by with scarcely movingfootsteps, and before the turn of night comes, one is apt to believe thebreak of day is at hand. From his couch, Jack furtively watched howthings went, which was much the same as he had seen before.

The pup ate until they would give him no more and then stretched out atthe feet of the squaw, who, having finished her meal, lit her pipe andpuffed away with the dull animal enjoyment natural to her race. Thechief himself led in that respect, and the two kept it up, as it seemedto Jack, doubly as long as ever before. At last they lay down andslept.

The captive had noted where his rifle was placed. It leaned against theside of the lodge where it had stood every time he saw it, so that, ifhe could steal out of the place in the night without arousing theinmates, it would be easy for him to take the gun with him.

The fire flickered and burned up, then sank, flared up again, and atlast went into a steady decline, which left the room filled with a dullglow that would have failed to identify the objects in sight had not theboy been familiar with their appearance.

When convinced that the two were sound asleep, Jack repeated the prayerthat had trembled so many times on his lips, rose as silently as ashadow, and began moving across the lodge on tip-toes to where hisinvaluable rifle leaned. Lightly would that warrior have need to sleepto be aroused by such faint footfalls.

The boy had not yet reached his weapon, when he was almost transfixed bythe vivid recollection of the attempt he made to get away when on thejourney to the village. He believed his liberty was secured, when hesuddenly awoke to the fact that Ogallah and his warriors were triflingwith him.

Could it be the chief had read in the captive's face the evidence of hisintention?

This was the question which for the moment held life in suspense, whileJack Carleton stood in the middle of the dimly lit wigwam and gazeddoubtingly toward the figures near the smoldering fire.

"Likely enough he is only pretending he's asleep, and, just as I am surethe way is clear, he will spring to his feet and grab me."

It was a startling thought indeed, and there were a few moments when thelad was actually unable to stir; but he quickly rallied and smiled athis own fears.

"If I once get my gun in hand, he won't be able to stop me——"

He was reaching forward to grasp it, when one of the embers fell apart,and a yellow twist of flame filled the apartment with a glow whichrevealed everything. Jack stopped with a faint gasp and turned his head,sure that the chief was on the point of leaping upon him; but he was asmotionless as a log, and the hand of the boy was upraised again as hetook another stealthy step forward. A half step more, and his fingersclosed around the barrel. The touch of the cold iron sent a thrillthrough him, for it was like the palpable hand of Hope itself.

The powder horn lay on the ground beside the weapon, the Indian havingmade no use of either since they came into his possession. The stringwas quickly flung over the shoulder of the boy, who then began moving inthe same guarded fashion toward the door, throwing furtive glances overhis shoulder at the king and queen, who did not dream of what was goingon in their palace.

Jack Carleton "crossed the Rubicon" when he lifted the rifle and powderhorn from the ground. Had he been checked previous to that he would haveturned back to his couch, and made the pretense that what he did was theresult of a delirium. But with the possession of his weapon came aself-confidence that would permit no obstruction to divert him from hispurpose. He would not have fired on the chief or his squaw (except tosave his own life), for that would have been unpardonable cruelty, buthe would have made a dash into the outer air, where he was sure ofeluding his pursuers, so long as the night lasted.

But the slumber of the couple was genuine. They did not stir or doanything except to breathe in their sonorous fashion. Jack took hold ofthe bison skin to draw it aside, when he found the door was locked. Itwas an easy matter, however, to unfasten it, and a single step placedhim outside the wigwam.

Instead of hurrying away, as his impatience prompted him to do, theyouth stood several minutes surveying the scene around him. The Saukvillage was asleep, and the scrutiny which he made of the collection ofwigwams failed to show a single star-like twinkle of light. The nightwas clear, and a gibbous moon was high in the sky. Patches of cloudsdrifted in front of the orb, and fantastic shadows whisked across theclearing and over the wigwams and trees. The dwellings of the Indianslooked unsightly and misshapen in the shifting light, and Jack felt asthough he were gazing upon a village of the dead.

Turning to the southward, he faced the narrow, winding river. From thefront of the chieftain's lodge, he caught the glimmer of its surfaceand the murmur of its flow, as it swept by in the gloom on its way tothe distant Gulf. A soft roaring sound, such as we notice when asea-shell is held to the ear crept through the solitude like the voiceof silence itself.

Jack was impressed by the scene, but when he saw a shadowy figure flitbetween two of the wigwams, and was certain he heard a movement in thelodge behind him, he hastily concluded it was the time for action andnot meditation. With a start that might have betrayed him, he quicklyleft his position and hastened away.

It was natural that the many hours devoted by Jack during hisconvalescence, to forming his plan of procedure, should have fixed theplan he meant to follow. Thus it was that the few minutes spent in frontof the chieftain's lodge were not occupied in debating the proper courseto take, and, when he once made a start, he went straight ahead withoutturning to the right or left.

The reader will readily see how great were the advantages on the side ofthe fugitive. He was certain of a fair start, which ought to have madehis position absolutely safe, for if the American Indian isphenomenally skillful in following the trail of an enemy through thewilderness, that enemy, if he suspects such pursuit, ought to be able tothrow him irrecoverably from the scent.

Furthermore, it is scarcely conceivable that the trail of Jack Carletoncould be taken at the door of Ogallah's wigwam and followed as thewarriors trailed a fugitive through the woods; for the ground whereon hewalked had been tramped hard by multitudinous feet, and the faintimpressions of the boy's shoes could not be individualized among thethousand footprints. It was far different from fleeing from a camp inthe woods, where his trail crossed and was interfered with by no other,and where the slightest depression or overturning of the leaves was likethe impression on the dusty highway.

The fugitive's first intention was to take to the woods, and guiding hiscourse by the moon and sun, travel with all the speed and push at hiscommand. Fortunately he was enabled to see that such a course was almostcertain to bring disaster. Instead of doing that, he went directly tothe river side, where he had seen the Indians frolicking in the water,and he himself had so often sighed for the same delicious privilege.

There were five canoes partly drawn up the bank and waiting the will oftheir owner. They were made of bark with curved ends, fantasticallypainted, and each was capable of carrying, at least, six or eightable-bodied warriors. They were so light that the lad found no troublein shoving the first clear of the shore, and sending it skimming outinto the stream. As it slackened its pace, it turned part way round,like a bewildered swan, as if uncertain which way to go. Then it sailedtriangularly down current, much after the manner of Ogallah's dog whenon a trot.

It was not more than fairly under way, when the second glided out afterit, then the third, the fourth and finally the fifth and last. Thiscontained Jack Carleton who took the long ashen paddle in hand and beganplying it with considerable skill. He was paying less attention to hisown progress than to the manipulation of the other canoes, which he hadset free for a special purpose.

He kept the five in the middle of the current until a fourth of a milewas passed. Then he gave one such a violent push that it ran its snoutagainst the bank and stuck fast. Some distance down stream he repeatedthe man[oe]uvre with the second boat against the opposite shore,continuing the curious proceeding until he was alone in the singlecanoe, floating down stream.

CHAPTER XXXI.

JOURNEYING EASTWARD.

Jack Carleton reasoned in this wise:

In the morning Ogallah would notice his absence from the lodge and wouldmake immediate search for him. He would quickly learn that the entirenavy of his nation had vanished as completely as has our own, and theconclusion would be warranted that it had either run away with the paleface or the pale face had run away with the navy: at any rate they hadgone off in company and the hunt would begin.

A quarter of a mile down stream, the first installment of the fleetwould be found stranded on the southern shore, as though it was used toset the fashion followed by our country a century later. The conclusionwould be formed that the audacious fugitive had landed at that point andplunged into the interior; but a brief examination would show the Saukstheir mistake and they would rush on along the banks until the secondcraft was discovered, when the same disappointment would follow.

This would continue until every one of the five canoes had been foundand examined. Inasmuch as the fifth contained Jack himself, it will beseen that more care was required in his case; but the programme had beenlaid out to its minutest details while the enemy was a guest in thelodge of the king.

After the fourth canoe had been stuck against the bank, the number lyingon alternate sides, Jack removed his clothing and letting himself overthe stern, plunged into the cool, refreshing current, where he dove,frolicked, sported, and enjoyed himself to the full—his happiness suchthat he could hardly refrain from shouting for very joy. He kept this upas long as prudent, when he clambered into the boat again, donned hisclothing, floated a short distance further, and shot the craft into landwith a force that held it fast.

A brief calculation will show that the boy had gone something more thana mile from the Indian village, and he had secured what may well betermed a winning lead; but much still remained to be done. He was nowabout to leave the element where even the trained bloodhound would be atfault, and step upon the land, where the keen eye of the Sauk warriorwould follow his footprints with the surety of fate itself. Hence itdepended on his covering up the tell-tale trail, unless chance, againstwhich no one can guard, should direct his pursuers to it.

Both shores of the stream were covered with forest which grew to theedge of the water. In some places there was undergrowth which overhungthe river, but it was not very plentiful. The position of the moon inthe sky was such that most of the time the middle of the streamreflected its light, while the shores were in shadow. These lookedindescribably gloomy, and but for bounding spirits which set the wholebeing of the lad aglow, he would have been oppressed to an unbearabledegree. The course of the river for the first mile was remarkablystraight, but it made a sweeping bend just before Jack ran his canoeinto shore. His aim now was to quit the water without leaving anytell-tale traces behind. If he stepped ashore and walked away never socarefully, he would fail to do what was absolutely necessary. Hebelieved he accomplished his purpose, by running the boat under someoverhanging undergrowth, where he laboriously pulled it up the bank,until it could not be seen by any one passing up or down stream, andcould be found by no one moving along the shore itself, unless he pausedand made search at the exact spot. The probability of any Indian doingsuch a thing, it will be conceded, was as unlikely as it could be.

But, on the other hand, the first step the fugitive took would leave animpression which would tell the whole story, and it now depended on themanner in which he overcame that special danger. Carefully sounding thewater, Jack found it was quite shallow close to land. He therefore wadeda full hundred yards from the canoe before leaving the stream, and then,with his clothing saturated to his knees, he stepped ashore, took ascore of long careful steps straight away, and his flight, it may besaid, was fairly begun.

"I don't know that I have done so much after all," said he, when he hadreached a point a hundred yards from the stream, "for some one of theIndians may strike my trail before sunrise to-morrow morning; but I havedone all I can at the start, and if I can have a few miles the lead,it'll be no fun for them to overtake me."

There was no reason why such an advantage should not be secured, for,although the moon was of no help to him in determining his course, hehad studied the whole thing so carefully while lying in the lodge of thechieftain Ogallah, that he was as sure of the direction as if he held amariner's compass in his hand.

Jack, it will be borne in mind was in the southern portion of thepresent State of Missouri, the frontier settlement of Martinsville lyingat no great distance westward from Kentucky, and north of the boundaryline of Arkansas, as it has existed since the formation of thatTerritory and State. The Sauk party of Indians who made him captive hadpursued an almost westerly direction, taking him well toward the Ozarkregion, if not actually within that mountainous section. It followed,therefore, that he should pursue the easterly course, for the streamalong which he had been borne, had carried him almost due north, and itwas not necessary for him to diverge in order to leave it well behind.

The fugitive lost no time, but pushed through the wood as fast as hecould. It was hard to restrain his desire to break into a run, but hedid so, for nothing could have been gained and much was likely to belost by such a course. Despite the bright moon overhead, few of its raysfound their way through the dense vegetation and foliage. Though heencountered little undergrowth, yet he was compelled to use his hands aswell as his eyes in order to escape painful accidents.

The hours of darkness were valuable to Jack, yet he longed for daylight.He wanted to be able to see where he was going, and to use what littlewoodcraft he possessed. So long as he was obliged to keep one handextended in front in order to save his face and neck, he could adopt noprecautions to hide his footprints from the prying eyes of his enemies.He knew he was leaving a trail which was as easy for his enemies tofollow, as though he walked in the yielding sand. Much as he regrettedthe fact, it could not be helped so long as the darkness lasted, and hewasted no efforts in the attempt to do so. It would be far otherwisewhen he should have daylight to help him.

Fortunately perhaps, he had not long to wait. He had not gone far whenhe observed the increasing light which speedily announced the rising ofthe sun; but he was shocked to find that despite his care and previousexperience in tramping through the wilderness, he had got much off hiscourse. Instead of the orb appearing directly in front of him, as heexpected it to do, it rose on his right hand, showing that instead ofpursuing an easterly course he was going north—a direction which tookhim very little nearer his home than if he traveled directly opposite.

As may be supposed, Jack had no sooner learned his mistake than he facedabout and corrected it.

"I've got my bearings now," he muttered confidently, "and I know toomuch about this business to drift off again. Hurrah!"

He could not deny himself the luxury of one shout and the toss of hiscap in the air. This completed, he strode forward with more dignifiedstep, and settled down to work, after the manner of a sensible youth whoappreciates the task before him. He calculated that he was two or threemiles from the Indian village, much closer than was comfortable, and hecould not stop to eat or rest until it should be increased. He felt thatthis day was to be the decisive one. If he could keep beyond the reachof his pursuers until the setting of the sun, he would throw them offhis trail so effectively that they could never recover it.

"And why shouldn't I do it?" he asked, confidently: "Deerfoot taught mehow to hide my tracks, and I never can have a better chance than now,where everything is in my favor."

He alluded to the number of streams, the rocky and diversified surfaceand the general rugged character of the country through which hisjourney was leading him.

In such a region there must be numerous opportunities for covering histrail from the penetrating glance of those who had spent their lives instudying the ways of the woods. The stealthy tread of the shoe ormoccasin over the flinty rock left no impression, but it was hardlypossible to find enough of such surface to prove of value; but when hecaught the gleam of water through the trees, his heart gave a leap ofpleasure.

"This is what I wanted," he exclaimed, coming to a halt on the bank ofa rapidly flowing creek, some fifty feet wide: "here is something thatwill wipe out a fellow's trail."

The current was fairly clear and rapid. It was evidently deep, and itseemed to the lad that it was the compression of a considerably widerstream into a space that added velocity to its flow. Its general course,so far as he could learn, was eastwardly, and was therefore favorable tohim.

There was but the one way of utilizing the creek, and that was byfloating over its surface. Jack could have strapped his gun to his backand swum a considerable distance, but that would have been a uselessexertion attended by many discomforts. His purpose was to build a raftor float which would allow the current to carry him for a mile or so,when he could land and continue his journey.

Better fortune than he anticipated awaited him. While moving along theshore in search of logs and decayed wood from which to construct hisfloat, he was astonished to run plump upon an Indian canoe, which wasdrawn up the bank beyond the probability of discovery.

"Well, now that is lucky!" exclaimed the gratified lad, who quicklyadded the saving clause, "that is, I hope it is, though where youfind canoes, it is best to suspect Indians."

He looked for them, but no sign greeted eye or ear. He supposed the boatbelonged to the tribe which he had left the night before, though it wassomewhat singular that it should have been moored such a distance fromhome. Possibly this was a much used ferry where something of the kindwas found convenient.

Nothing was to be gained by speculating about the ownership of thecraft, but the part of wisdom was to make use of the means that was sofortunately placed within his reach. Without any delay, therefore, heshoved the frail structure into the water, leaping into it as it shotfrom shore. No paddle could be found on or about the vessel, and he usedhis rifle for the implement, as he had done more than once before.Holding it by the barrel, he swung the stock through the current andfound it served his purpose well. A slight force is sufficient to propelan Indian canoe through or over the water, and the task was easy enoughfor Jack Carleton.

"It may be this boat belongs to some other Indians who do not live veryfar off, and if they should come down and find me sailing away with it,I don't know what would follow."

However, the opportunity was the very one he was anxious to secure, andhe was too wise to allow any fancy that might cross his mind to frightenhim from turning it to the best account. Guiding the canoe to the middleof the creek, he faced down current, and used his improvised paddle withall the skill and strength at his command. The stream, as I have said,ran rapidly, so that with his exertions he made good progress.

He was struck with the similarity of the shores to those of the largerstream which ran by the Indian village. The wood was dense, and atintervals was so exuberant that it looked difficult for a rabbit topenetrate. Then came long spaces where the forest was so open that hecould look far into its depths. The course of the creek was so windingthat he could see only a short distance ahead, and several times his ownmomentum carried him close into land before he could accommodate himselfto the abrupt curve around which he shot with no inconsiderable speed.

There remained the comforting thought that every minute thus occupiedwas taking him further from his captors, who were without the means offollowing his trail; but at the very moment when Jack was felicitatinghimself on the fact, he was startled by a most alarming discovery.

CHAPTER XXXII.

A MISCALCULATION.

The youth had stopped paddling for a few minutes' rest, when he observedthat he was close upon a broad clearing which came close to the water'sedge. He had scarcely time to notice that much when he saw several largeconical objects, and before he knew it, he was floating in front of anIndian village, numbering some twelve or fifteen wigwams. Squaws,children, and even warriors were lolling about very much as in the Saukvillage, from which he had fled only a short time before.

It fairly took away the breath of Jack. In all his fancies he had notonce thought of anything like this, or he would have avoided runninginto what promised to prove a fatal trap.

"My gracious!" he gasped, "this is a little too much of a good thing;it'll never do at all."

The settlement was on the right hand bank of the stream, which justthere had a northerly course. It was, therefore, on the shore where thefugitive desired to land. Dipping his improvised paddle, he drove theboat ahead with all the power he could command, and drew a breath ofpartial relief, when another sweeping curve shut him from sight.

It was apparent that the Indians failed to grasp the situation in itsentirety. They were accustomed to see white men hunting and trapping inthat region, and they may have felt no wish to molest one of theirnumber, though tempted so to do by his unprotected situation. At anyrate, they stared at the canoe without offering to disturb its occupant.The black-eyed youngsters gaped wonderingly, and Jack saw several pointin his direction, while they doubtless indulged in observationsconcerning him.

But it need not be said that he was frightened almost out of his wits,and filled with self-disgust that he should have gone blindly into aperil against which a child ought to have mounted guard. The moment hefelt he was out of sight of the redmen, who showed far less curiositythan he expected, he sprang ashore and shoved the canoe back into thecurrent, which speedily carried it out of sight. Having landed, Jackhastened among the trees at the fastest gait possible. He was close tothe village, although beyond sight. Glancing over his shoulder heexpected every minute to see some of the dusky warriors, and to heartheir whoops as they broke in pursuit.

It must have been that this particular Indian village felt little if anyinterest in the white youth who paddled in front of their door, for notone of the number made a move by way of pursuit.

When Jack had pushed through the wilderness for a couple of miles heformed the same conclusion, and dropped to a deliberate walk. The faceof the country was rocky and broken, and he was confident that in manyplaces he had left no trail at all. But, with that conviction came twoothers: he not only was tired but was excessively hungry. He had caughtsight of game more than once while on the march, as it may be called,but refrained from firing through fear that the report of his gun wouldguide others who were hunting for him. At the same time he had twiceheard the discharge of rifles at widely separated points. Probably theywere fired by Indians on the hunt, or possibly some of the trappers ofthat section had not yet started on their long journey to St. Louis. Atany rate when the sun had passed the meridian and the afternoon was welladvanced, he made up his mind that he would take the first chance tosecure food, no matter in what shape it presented itself.

He smiled to himself, when within the succeeding ten minutes he caughtsight of a young deer among the trees less than one hundred feet inadvance. It bounded off affrighted by the figure of the youth, who,however, was so nigh that he brought it to the ground withoutdifficulty.

When he ran forward to dress it, he was surprised to find it had fallenwithin a rod of a ravine fifty feet deep.

This ravine, which had evidently been a cañon or ancient bed of somemountain stream, was twenty yards or more in width, the rocky wallsbeing covered with a mass of luxuriant, creeping vines, through whichthe gray of the rocks could be seen only at widely separated intervals.The bottom was piled up with the luxuriant vegetable growth of a soilsurcharged with richness.

Jack Carleton took only time enough to comprehend these points when heset to work kindling a fire against the trunk of a tree which grew closeto the ravine. When that was fairly going, he cut the choicest slicesfrom his game, and it was speedily broiled over the blaze. There was nowater, so far as he knew, closer than the creek, but he did notspecially miss it. Seasoned by his keen hunger, the venison was the veryacme of deliciousness, and he ate until he craved no more.

Then as he sat down on the leaves with his back to the tree opposite theblaze, he probably felt as comfortable as one in his situation couldfeel. He had pushed his strength almost to a dangerous verge, when restbecame a luxury, and as he leaned against the shaggy bark behind him, itseemed as though he could sit thus for many hours without wishing tostir a limb.

"I suppose," he said to himself in a drowsy tone, "that I ought to keepon the tramp until night, when I can crawl in behind some log and sleeptill morning. It may be that one or two of the warriors from that lastvillage are on my trail, but it don't look like it, and a fellow can'ttramp forever without rest. I'll stop here for an hour or two, and thengo ahead until dark. There's one thing certain,—I've thrown Ogallah andhis friends so far off my track that they'll never be able to find itagain."

If any conclusion could be warranted, it would seem that this was ofthat nature, and yet by an extraordinary chain of circ*mstances the verydanger which was supposed to have ended, was the one which came upon thefugitive.

As he had anticipated, the method of his flight was discovered veryearly the succeeding morning, and many of the warriors and large boysstarted in pursuit. The hunt was pressed with a promptness and skillscarcely conceivable. It was inevitable that they should be puzzled bythe singular proceeding with the canoes, and the pursuers becamescattered, each intent on following out his own theory, as is the casewith a party of detectives in these later days. The last boat was notfound, but the identical youth who had fared so ill at the hands ofJack, came upon his trail where it left the river. His black eyes glowedwith anticipated revenge, which is one of the most blissful emotionsthat can stir the heart of the American Indian.

The young Sauk might have brought a half dozen older warriors around himby uttering a simple signal, but nothing could have induced him to doso. He had his gun, knife, and tomahawk,—all the weapons he could carryand all that were possibly needed. He had learned long before to trailhis people through the labyrinthine forest, and in a year more heexpected to go upon his first war trail. He hated with aninextinguishable hatred the pale face who had overthrown him in thewrestling bout and then had struck him a blow in the face, which,figuratively speaking, compelled him to carry his nose for several daysin a sling. Ogallah had protected the sick pale face from molestation,but now the chief was the most eager for his death.

The fugitive evidently believed he was safe against all pursuit, and itwould therefore be the easier to surprise him. What greater feat couldthe young Sauk perform than to follow and secretly slay the detestedlad? What a triumph it would be to return to the village with his scalpdangling at his girdle!

Holding his peace (though it was hard to keep down the shout of joy thatrose to his lips), he bounded away like a bloodhound in pursuit.

Despite the precautions taken by Jack Carleton, the pursuer foundlittle trouble in keeping to his trail, until it abruptly terminated onthe bank of the creek, where advantage had been taken of the canoe.There he paused for a time at a loss what to do.

Of course he knew of the Indian village at no great distance down streamand on the other side. Familiar as he was with the creek, he kept onuntil he reached a place where it broadened and was so shallow that hewaded over without trouble. The red men whom he visited were friendlywith the offshoot of the Sauk tribe, so that no risk was run in goingamong them. When he did so, as a matter of course, he gained the veryinformation he was seeking; the canoe with the fugitive in it went bythe village early in the morning. The pursuer declined the offer of helpand went on alone. He was hardly outside the village when he struck thetrail again, and, knowing he was at no great distance from the youth, hefollowed with a vigor and persistency that would not be denied.

But during most of the time he was thus employed, Jack Carleton wassimilarly engaged, and, despite the energy of the young Sauk, the hoursslipped by without bringing him a sight of the pale face, whose scalp hemeant to bring back suspended to his girdle. The fugitive had aboutrecovered his usual health, and he improved the time while it was his.Had he pushed forward until nightfall before halting for food or rest,he never would have been overtaken.

But the signs showed the dusky youth that he was close upon theunsuspicious pale face, and he strode along with the care and skill of aveteran warrior. Finally his trained senses detected the smell ofburning wood, and a moment later he caught sight of the camp-fire ofJack Carleton. The Indian stopped, and after some reconnoitering,concluded he could gain a better view from the other side the camp. Withincredible pains he moved around to that side and was gratified by asuccess which glowed in his swarthy countenance and through hiswell-knit frame.

He saw the pale face sitting on the ground, with his back against atree, his mouth open, and his eyes closed. His gun rested on the groundbeside him, and the wearied fugitive was asleep, and as helpless as aninfant.

The Sauk had only to raise his gun, take a quick aim, and shoot himdead, before he awoke or learned his danger. He could leap upon andfinish him with his knife, but that would involve some risk to himself.He decided to drive his tomahawk into the skull of his victim, and toscalp him immediately after.

As the first step toward doing so, he leaned his rifle against thenearest tree, so as to leave his arms free, and then, without any moreado, grasped the handle of his tomahawk and poised himself with thepurpose of hurling it with resistless force and unerring aim. He was nottwenty feet distant from Jack; but while in the very act of raising themissile above his head, his arm was struck a side blow so violent asalmost to break the bone. The tomahawk flew from his grasp to the earth,and in a twinkling some one caught him around the waist, lifted himclear of the ground, ran rapidly the few paces necessary, and flung himover the rocks into the ravine!

The Sauk struggled desperately to save himself, but he could not check,though he retarded his descent. He landed with a force that knocked thebreath from him, but the abundance of vines and vegetable growth savedhis life. After a time he slowly gathered himself together, and seeingnothing of the enemy who had handled him so ruthlessly, he slowlyclimbed to his feet and began picking his way out of the ravine.

He was compelled to walk a long distance before reaching a place wherehe was able to clamber to the level ground above. When at last hemanaged to do so, he sat down on a fallen tree to rest and indulge in aretrospective survey.

His rifle and tomahawk were irrecoverably gone, and nothing would haveinduced him to go back to look for them. If his right arm was notbroken, it was so injured and lamed that a long time must elapse beforehe could use it, and altogether his enterprise could only be regarded asa disastrous failure.

"It was an Indian that struck the tomahawk from my grasp," reflected thevictimized Sauk; "he was a terrible warrior!"

The youth was right in each respect, for the name of the Indian who madesuch short work with him was Deerfoot the Shawanoe.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

CONCLUSION.

Jack Carleton was in the middle of a pleasant dream of home and friends,when a light touch on his shoulder caused him to open his eyes and lookup with a quick, inquiring glance.

"Helloa! Deerfoot, is that you?" he exclaimed, springing to his feet andgrasping the hand of his old friend, on whose handsome features lingeredthe shadowy smile which told of the pleasure he felt in finding hisbeloved friend after such a long search.

"Deerfoot is glad to take the hand of his brother and press it; he hashunted a good while for him and his heart was sad that he did not findhim."

"How, in the name of conscience, did you ever find me at all?" demandedJack, who slapped him on his back, pinched his arm, and treated himwith a familiarity which few dared show toward him.

"I've had a very curious time, I can tell you, old fellow—helloa! wheredid that gun come from, and that tomahawk?" exclaimed the wonderingyouth, catching sight of the weapons.

"'Twill be well if my brother does not stay here," replied the youngShawanoe, who, while he felt no particular fear of the Sauk whom he hadflung into the ravine, saw the possibility of his procuring friends andcoming back to revenge himself. Prudence suggested that the two shouldsecure themselves against such peril. Deerfoot, therefore, picked up thetomahawk, shoved it into the girdle around his waist, grasped the riflein his right hand, and strode forward with his free, easy, swinginggait. As there was no call for special caution, he told the story of hisencounter with the young Sauk who had raised his tomahawk to brain hissleeping friend. Deerfoot's first intention was to drive an arrowthrough his body, but he chose the method already described offrustrating his purpose.

To make his story complete, it was necessary for the young Shawanoe tobegin with his visit to Jack's mother, and to describe the mental agonyof the good parent over the unaccountable absence of her boy. Then hetold of his meeting with the Sauk warrior, Hay-uta, who made such adetermined effort to take his life. From him he learned that a whiteyouth was a captive in the village, and he concluded, as a matter ofcourse, that there were to be found both Jack and Otto, though noreference was made to the latter. The sagacious Shawanoe, however,discovered an important fact or two which I did not refer to in tellingthe incident. The first was that Hay-uta was one of the five Sauks whoseparated from the other five directly after the capture of the boys.With his company was Otto Relstaub, the Dutch youth, while Jack Carletonwas with the other. Hay-uta and his friends were on their way to thevillage, and were almost within sight of it, when Hay-uta felt suchdissatisfaction over their failure to bring back any scalps or plunder,that he drew off and declared he would not go home until he secured someprize of that nature. His encounter with Deerfoot followed. When he leftthe latter he went straight to his village. Deerfoot could have trailedhim without trouble, but, inasmuch as the Sauk had departed in thatmanner, and the Shawanoe knew where his village lay, he purposelyavoided his trail, and followed a course that diverged so far to theright that he first reached the village passed by Jack in his canoe. Hisarrival, as sometimes happens in this life, was in the very nick oftime. From the red men, who showed a friendly disposition toward him, helearned that not only had a pale face youth passed down the stream in acanoe, but a young warrior aflame with passion was close behind him.

The wise Deerfoot was quick to grasp the situation, and he set outhot-footed after the aforesaid flaming young warrior, and followed himwith such celerity that he came in sight of him long before the Saukarrived at the camp-fire. Little did the furious young Sauk dream, whilepanting with anticipated revenge, and aglow with exultation, that one ofhis own race was close upon his heels, ready to launch his deadly arrowat any moment, and only waiting to decide in what manner the Sauk shouldbe "eliminated" from the whole business.

Seated around the camp fire late that night, the two friends talked overthe past. Jack gave full particulars of what befell him since hiscapture by the Indians, up to the hour when Deerfoot joined him. Theyoung Shawanoe listened with great interest to the story, for it will beadmitted that in many respects it was an extraordinary narrative. Hetold Jack that the people with whom he had passed more than a week wereSauks, under the leadership of the chieftain whose lodge had shelteredthe prisoner during his captivity. The Sauks were a brave, warlikepeople, and this offshoot, which had located in that portion of UpperLouisiana, was among the most daring and vindictive of the tribe. Theirleniency toward Jack was remarkable, and could only be accounted for onthe supposition that Ogallah took a fancy to the youth and meant toadopt him into his family. It was not at all unlikely that Jack'ssuspicion that they were "training" him to figure in a scene of torturewas correct. His escape, therefore, could not have been more opportune.

Let not the reader accuse the two of indifference, because so little hasbeen recorded in their conversation, concerning Otto Relstaub, thecompanion of both in more than one scene of peril, and held by them instrongest friendship. They had talked more of him than of any one else,though Jack's heart was oppressed by a great sorrow when he thought ofhis mother and her grief over his continued absence. Jack had askedDeerfoot over and over again as to his belief concerning their absentfriend, but the Shawanoe, for a long time, evaded a direct answer.

"I can tell you what I think," said Jack with a compression of hislips and a shake of his head: "Otto is dead."

"How did my brother meet his death?" calmly asked Deerfoot.

"Those five warriors started by another route to the village and theymeant to take him there as they took me. After Hay-uta, as I believe youcall your friend, left, they made up their minds that it wasn't of anyuse to bother with poor Otto, and so they tomahawked or shot him."

Having given his theory, Jack Carleton turned toward the young Shawanoefor his comment, but he sat looking intently in the fire and remainedsilent. Resolved that he should say something on the painful subject,Jack touched his arm.

"Deerfoot, do you think I am right?"

The Indian looked in his face and still mute, nodded his head to signifyhe agreed with him.

"Poor Otto," added Jack with a sigh, "I wonder how his father and motherwill feel when they learn that their boy will never come back."

"They will mourn because the horse was not found," was thecharacteristic remark of Deerfoot.

"You are right," exclaimed Jack, with a flash of the eye; "if old JacobRelstaub could get his horse, I believe he and his wife would go on andsmoke their pipes with as much piggish enjoyment as before, caringnothing for their only child. How different my mother!" he added in asofter voice: "she would give her life to save mine, as I would givemine to keep trouble from her. I say, Deerfoot, Otto and I were a coupleof fools to start out to hunt a horse that had been lost so many daysbefore and of which we hadn't the slightest trace—don't you think so?"

The young Shawanoe once more turned and looked in his face with amournful expression, and nodded his head with more emphasis than before.

"I knew you would agree with me," assented Jack, "though, to tell thetruth, I had very little hope myself that we would ever get sight ofthe animal, but old Jacob Relstaub really drove Otto out of his houseand compelled him to go off on the wild goose hunt. I couldn't let himgo alone and, with mother's consent, I kept him company."

"My brother pleased the Great Spirit, and Deerfoot will pray that heshall ever act so that the Great Spirit will smile on him."

"I shall most certainly try to do so," said Jack with a resolute shakeof his head: "He has shown me a hundred-fold more mercies than I deserveand I mean to prove that I have some gratitude in me."

The conversation went on in this fashion until the evening was faralong, when Jack lay down near the fire, intending to sleep for the restof the night. Deerfoot assured him there was no danger and as was hiscustom, the young Shawanoe brought forth his Bible to spend an hour orso in studying its pages. Before he had fixed upon the portion, JackCarleton came to the sitting position and, with some excitement in hismanner, said:

"Deerfoot, I forgot to tell you something: I don't know how it came toslip my mind."

The Indian looked in his face and quietly awaited his explanation.

"One of those Sauks that belonged to Otto's party came into the lodge ofOgallah when I was there, and I think he tried to tell me somethingabout Otto, but I couldn't understand his words or gestures."

"Let my brother show Deerfoot what the movements were," said the other,manifesting much interest.

They were so impressed on Jack Carleton that, springing to his feet, heplaced himself in front of Deerfoot and reproduced most of the gestures,the words, of course, being gone. The Shawanoe fixed his eyes on hisfriend, and scrutinized every motion with eager eyes. Suddenly he sprangup with more feeling than he had shown in a long time. And well might hedo so, for he had translated the sign language, as given to him by JackCarleton, and it told a far different story than the one which both hadadopted some time before.

"Otto is alive," was the startling declaration of Deerfoot.

"He is!" exclaimed the amazed Jack, "I should like to know who told youthat."

"That was what the Sauk warrior said to my brother; that was what hetried to tell him, but my brother did not understand his words."

"Are you really sure Otto is alive?"

"Deerfoot cannot be sure of that which his eyes do not behold; but suchwere the words of Hay-uta the Sauk; they did not kill Otto."

"Then where is he?"

"He is a long ways off; we will hasten to the settlement that the heartof the mother of my brother shall be lightened. Then Deerfoot will leadhis brother on the hunt for him who is so many miles away toward thesetting sun."

Within the following three days, Jack Carleton arrived home and wasclasped in the arms of his mother, who rejoiced over his return asthough it had been a very rising from the dead. Deerfoot had conductedhim swiftly through the forest and not a hair of the head of either washarmed.

The limits of this work having been reached, it will be impossible inthese pages to give an account of what befell Otto Relstaub, after hiscapture by the little band of Sauk Indians; but all that, as well asthe eventful hunt for him by Deerfoot the Shawanoe and young JackCarleton, shall be fully told in "Footprints in the Forest," which willform Number Three of the Log Cabin Series.

THE END.

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