Books: The Lost Trail

E >> Edward S. Ellis >> The Lost Trail

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The thought occurred to Otto long before, and more than once he
explored his garments in search of some present for the youngster;
but he possessed nothing that would answer. His pockets were empty
of anything in the shape of coin, bright medals, buttons, or
playthings of any sort likely to attract the eye of the aboriginal
American infant.

He might have handed his hunting-knife to him, but more than likely,
in his blind striking and kicking, he would gouge out an eye or
attempt to scalp himself, and then the mother would turn upon the
donor in her wrath. Otto considered the project of borrowing the
tomahawk of the chief and passing it over to the heir, but feared he
would knock out his own brains or do something desperate, by which
retribution would be visited on the head of Otto.

But Jack Carleton was more fortunate, for in the pocket of his
trousers was an English shilling, worn smooth and shining with the
friction to which it had been long subjected. It was just the thing
to catch the eye of any baby, no matter what its nativity, and he
stepped hastily forward and handed it to the one before him.

The movement interested the parents scarcely less than the child.
They watched Jack closely. The little fellow snatched the bright
coin in his snuffling, awkward fashion, and, when it was clutched in
his fingers, made a furious shove, intending to drive it into his
mouth.

"Hold on," called Jack, in alarm; "I didn't give it to you to eat; I
don't believe you can digest it."

Just then the little fellow began to kick, cough, and fling himself
harder than ever. The mother sprang forward with an exclamation in
her native tongue, and, catching her baby in her arms, began
manipulating him in the most original fashion. Standing upright in
the middle of the wigwam, she inverted him, and, holding him by the
heels, worked him up and down, as though he were the dasher of a
chum.

"If she don't do dot a leedle harder his head vill bounce off,"
remarked Otto.

The shilling flew from the throat of the baby, and Jack, thinking it
had done enough harm, scooped over to pick it up; but, before he
could lay hands on it, the mother snatched it from the ground and
shoved it into one of the capacious receptacles of her dress.
Evidently she identified the coin and knew its value.

"All right," laughed Jack; "I'll be glad to have you keep it, if it
will help to buy your friendship for us."

During this stirring episode, and when the boys feared the heir of
the wigwam was likely to choke himself to death, the father never
ceased smoking, his pipe. His piggish eyes were turned sideways, as
though he thought the performance worth looking at; but, beyond
that, he did not disturb himself.

The infant, after his unpleasant experience, seemed to be as well as
ever, and being tumbled back on the bison skin resumed his kicking
and, crowing, as though seeking to make up for lost time.

The occurrence produced an effect on Jack Carleton similar to that
caused by the sight of the expansive smile of the Osage chieftain:
he felt that no dangerous ill-will could exist wigwam which was the
scene of the incident.

The boys resumed their seats beside each other, where the other
occupants of the lodge were in sight all the time, and then spoke
with freedom.

"I don't think they will, offer any harm," Jack, alluding, of
course, to the squaw and the warrior. I suspect he is an Osage."

"Yaw--dot ish vot he tolds me," said Otto carefully weighing his
words.

"What else did he tell you? But, first of all, let me know how you
came to be his guest."

Thereupon the German related, in his own fashion, the story which
long since became familiar to the reader. Jack Carleton listened
with much interest, glancing from the husband to the wife and back
again, with an occasional look at the baby, that had become so
motionless as to show that he was asleep.

"So you didn't get anything to eat?" remarked the young Kentuckian;
"when I first saw you here I thought you were after food. I am
hungry, but I think the best thing we can do is to leave the lodge."

"Vy not stays till mornings?"

"It might do; but I'm a little too nervous to sleep, for there can
be no certainty about them. I hunted around for other lodges, but
found none, and yet there may be plenty not far off. He may have
visitors, and, if they find us here, there's no telling what they
will do."

"What for you leave your gun ober dere just as I does mit mine?"

"It struck me that that was the best way to show the old fellow that
not only was I friendly myself, but that I took him to be a friend."

"Dot ish so; but it would be as nice as nefet vos if bofe of our
guns had us."

"I will get mine."

"Mebbe he won't lets you."

"I'm almost as close to it as he; I can take a step or two before he
will see what I mean to do, and then, if he undertakes to stop me,
he will be too late."

"Vot musn't I does?"

"Attend to the squaw: if she makes a dive after me, you grab and
hold her."

"Yaw," was the hesitating response of Otto, who saw what unpleasant
phases the situation was likely to assume.

Before Jack Carleton rose to his feet, he discovered that something
extraordinary was going on in the lodge. Although the chief was
sitting in his lazy attitude, yet his senses were on the alert and
some sort of telegraphy was passing between him and his wife. Both
continued smoking their pipes and did not speak nor move their
bodies. Any one unable to see their faces would not suspect they
were looking at each other.

But they were not only doing so, but, singular as it may seem, were
sending messages mainly by means of the smoke issuing from their
dusky lips. It was puffed forth, in every variety of manner,
sometimes with little short jets, then with longer ones, then from
one corner of the mouth and again from the other, all being
accompanied by a contortion of the flexible lips which doubtless
suggested some of the words in the minds of the two.

"That's very strange," said Jack, in an undertone, after he and Otto
had watched the performance several minutes.

"Yaw, dot ish vot I dinks."

"Why do they affect all that mystery? If they want to say anything
to each other, why not speak in their own tongue? Neither of us can
understand the first word."

"But they doesn't knows dot."

"They ought to know it. However, we can't guess what they're
talking about, though I would give much to know."

Husband and wife were quick to observe they were under scrutiny, but
they continued the curious interchange of thoughts for some time
longer. By and by they ceased and seemed be doing nothing beside
smoking; Carleton was right in his belief that the sachem had heard
something on the outside wigwam which greatly interested them.

CHAPTER XXX

AN UNWELCOME VISITOR

Both Jack Carleton and Otto Relstaub were disturbed by the singular
behavior of the squaw and chief.

"They're talking about something outdoors," whispered Jack; "keep
quiet and listen."

The faint rustling of the leaves, the gentle breathing of the
sleeping infant, and the soft purring of the fire (caused by the
sudden flaring up of one of the brands), were the only sounds that
came to their ears. Wish-o-wa-tum held the stem of his pipe between
his lips, without ejecting any smoke, while his eyes were fixed on
the ground in front of his feet, with that absent expression which
showed he was listening intently to something not visible to the
eye. The attitude of the wife was similar, except that she looked
steadily in the face of Jack Carleton, as though seeking to read his
thoughts.

Hark! both the boys caught a stirring of the leaves, precisely as if
made by the foot of an animal prowling around the wigwam.

"Sh!" warned Jack; "it's a man or beast!"

The words had no more than left his lips, when the flapping deerskin
was silently drawn backward and an Indian warrior entered.

He was powerful and well formed in his war paint, and with his long
rifle in his right hand. He had no blanket thrown over his
shoulders, but he was fully dressed in other respects, with knife
and tomahawk thrust in the girdle around his waist.

The first glance showed that he not only belonged to the Shawanoe
tribe, but he was one of the most dreaded members of the same. Both
Otto and Jack had seen him before, his forehead and cheeks being so
curiously marked as to identify him wherever no one else was
similarly ornamented.

When the boys were making their desperate run for the shelter of the
logs on the other side, of the Mississippi, Otto threw back an
affrighted look, which gave him such a vivid picture of that
particular savage that he felt the memory would remain with him
through life. A few minutes after, as my reader will recall, Jack
deliberately held fast to the upper edge of the rude fort and looked
over upon the fierce warriors outside. The one who particularly
impressed him was the Shawanoe with the hideously painted
countenance. It was this same Indian that flung the bear skin about
his shoulders and, creeping up the inclined tree trunk, surveyed the
astonished youths below, and it was he who now entered the lodge of
Wish-o-wa-tum and confronted the inmates.

The truth flashed upon the boys: he was one of a party that had
followed them across the Mississippi, and had traced them to this
lodge. It was natural the youths should believe that others were
not far off.

It will be remembered that Otto had left his gun on the edge of the
clearing some distance away, while the weapon of Jack stood near the
entrance of the lodge. The instant the Shawanoe stepped inside, his
eye rested on it, and, as if divining the truth, he extended his
hand and picked it up. The act gave him two guns, while neither of
the boys possessed a fire-arm.

Having performed this clever exploit, the Shawanoe, still standing
erect, just within the lodge, turned to the chief and addressed him
in what may be termed a mixture of the Shawanoe and Osage tongues.
He paid no attention to the squaw at the other end of the wigwam,
for to an American Indian the native woman is of little account
under any circumstances.

Nor did his face indicate that he was aware of the presence of the
boys, who looked at him with dismay; but it was morally certain that
the conversation which opened immediately related almost solely to
them.

"My gracious!" said Jack, when able to recover himself, "this is bad
for us. I never dreamed of anything of the kind."

He spoke very guardedly, with his head close to his friend's though
both narrowly watched the warriors, while giving expression to their
own fears.

"Vie didn't we start sooner don he comes?" whispered Otto, his jaw
trembling with fear; "I don't see vot we doted does."

An absurd scheme of escape suggested itself to Jack.

"I wonder whether we can't dash through the side of the lodge and
get away."

"Wait till I sees."

Otto carefully leaned back with a view of learning bow much
resistance the deerskins would offer. While they were quite strong,
they were not taut, and yielded so much that the boy tipped over
backwards, with his feet in the air, somewhat after the style of the
baby when frolicking on the blanket.

The two warriors, including the squaw, looked stolidly at him, and
there was not the trace of a smile on any countenance. Agitated as
was Jack, he could not repress a slight laugh when he witnessed the
discomfiture of his companion.

"Mine gracious!" muttered Otto, clambering to the sitting position
again; "I dinks dot some one have pulls de lodge away van I don't
leans against him."

Jack shook his head.

"There's no use of trying that; before we could get through they
could catch us both. If they attack us, we'll have to make the beat
fight we can."

"And dot won't be good for nodding," was the truthful remark of
Otto, who looked toward the two warriors again.

The Shawanoe must have felt he was entire master of the situation.
As if to remove any doubt on that point in the minds of the youths,
he now set down the gun he had picked up, leaned his own against the
side of the lodge, close to it, and then seated himself about half
way between the door and the sleeping baby. This placed him
opposite Wish-o-wa-tum and closer to the entrance where were Otto
and Jack. For the latter to pass out, they must rush by both
warriors, a feat utterly impossible, should the Indians object. It
was equally beyond their power to secure the guns, which would have
proven potent factors in settling the question.

"I believe he has left the rifles there on purpose to tempt us to
make a dash for them," said Jack, half inclined to accept the
challenge, hopeless as it was.

"Dot ish vot they does him for," assented Otto.

Jack was strongly of the belief that other Shawanoes were near. It
was unreasonable to suppose that a single warrior would have crossed
the Mississippi alone, when a dozen of them had proven unable to
bring the boys to terms.

"They have found we are in here," was the thought of the boy, "and
becoming tired of waiting for us, have sent this one to talk with
the Osage and to hurry us out. Ah, why did Deerfoot leave us so
soon? If we ever needed him, now is the time."

The name of the wonderful youth gave a new turn to the thoughts of
the lad. He asked himself whether it was probable that the
Shawanoes and Miamis had sent a party over to pursue the boys alone,
or to revenge themselves upon Deerfoot. Their enmity against the
latter must be tenfold greater than it could be against any one
else.

The most natural decision to which the lad could come was that the
hostiles were numerous enough to divide and follow both trails. At
any rate it was improbable, as has already been said, that the task
of running the youths to earth was entrusted to a single warrior.

While Wish-o-wa-tum and his latest visitor were talking in their
odd, granting fashion, the boys carefully studied their
countenances, in the vain effort to read the meaning of the words
that passed their lips. They occasionally glanced at the squaw, who
manifested more interest than was expected. Sometimes she held the
pipe for a minute or two motionless, her eyes on the warriors, as if
anxious to catch every word. Then she would give a snuff or grunt,
lean forward and stir the fire and smoke with great vigor.

To the amazement of the listening boys, the red men all at once
changed their language to the English--or rather they attempted to
do so, for they made sorry work of it.

"Dog Deerfoot--he dog," was the somewhat obscure remark of the
latest arrival.

"Him so," nodded Man-not-Afraid-of-Thunder, who probably had never
beard of the individual until within the last few minutes.

"Deerfoot dog--coward--shoot Injin no more."

Wish-o-wa-tum started a reply in English, but the difficulty was
such that he slid back into his own lingo. Consequently, the
purport of what he said was lost upon the youths. Jack Carleton,
however, was quick enough to suspect the meaning, of the proceeding
which troubled him so much at first. The words in broken English
were intended for the friends of Deerfoot. It was characteristic of
the Shawanoe visitor that he should attempt to play upon the
feelings of the hapless boys.

"Deerfoot dead," he added, with a sidelong glance toward the latter,
which confirmed the suspicion of the young Kentuckian.

Otto started on hearing the words, but whispered, as he hitched
closer to his friend:

"I don't dinks so."

"Nor do I--hark!"

"How die?" asked Wish-o-wa-tum again struggling with the tongue to
which he was a subject rather than of which he was master.

"Arorara threw him down," replied the visitor, striking his fist
against his breast to signify the name was his own; "jump on
him--take scalp. Deerfoot dog!"

"I know how deceitful the Indians are," said Jack in the same low
tone, "but that fellow don't know bow to lie in English. I should
like to see the warrior that can throw Deerfoot down and take his
scalp."

The Shawanoe seemed to have overheard the expression, or at least
suspected its meaning, guarded though the words were in their
utterance, for he leaped to his feet and again striking his fist
against his chest, exclaimed in hot anger:

"Deerfoot dog--Deerfoot dead! Arorara take scalp."

To the amazement of Jack Carleton, Otto also sprang to his feet, and
struck his chest a resounding thump.

"Arorara ish one pig liar!" he shouted; "he is a liar as never vos!
He says dot Deerfoot is dead, and dere stands Deerfoot now!"

And as the German lad thundered the words, he pointed toward the
deerskin, which had been flung back once more.

CHAPTER XXXI

PURSUER AND PURSUED

When Deerfoot the Shawanoe encountered his enemy in the path and
turned over the rifle to him, he knew that his leniency toward his
implacable foe had not softened his heart in the least. He only
awaited the opportunity to turn like a rattlesnake on his
magnanimous master, and the youth therefore took particular care
that such opportunity should not be given him.

Deerfoot held his tomahawk tightly grasped and poised, determined to
hurl it with resistless and unerring aim on the very first move of
the warrior against him. He remained as rigid as bronze until the
other was a couple of rods distant. Then he noiselessly shoved back
the tomahawk in his girdle, picked up his bow and vanished like a
shadow. When the warrior turned, as the reader will recall, he saw
no one.

Deerfoot was confident that after such a meeting, the one whom he
had spared would not follow him. He would be glad enough to escape
altogether without arousing the wrath of him who would not show
mercy a second time. Nevertheless, the matchless youth sped along
the path in the gathering gloom, with that swiftness which earned
him his expressive name while he was yet a mere boy. No man,
American or Caucasian, could hold his own against him in his
phenomenal fleetness. He swept through the forest, never pausing,
but darting forward like a bird on the wing, that eludes by the
marvelous quickness of eye the labyrinth of limbs and obstructions
which interpose almost every second across his line of flight.

Not until he had sped fully a half mile did slacken in the slightest
his astonishing pace, and then there was not the least quickening of
the pulse or hastening of the gentle breath. Had chose, he could
have maintained the same for hours without discomfort or fatigue.

While, in one sense, Deerfoot was fleeing a Shawanoe, he was, in the
same sense, pursue another, in whom his chief interest centered.
The night deepened, and the moon, climbing above the tree tops,
penetrated the gloomy recesses in few places with its silvery beams.
When a mile had been passed, the young warrior paused and listened.

"He cannot follow me when his eyes see no trail," he said to
himself, alluding to the Shawanoe whom he had spared.

It followed as a corollary that the same difficulty confronted him
in pursuing his friends and the enemy who clung so close to their
footprints. He stopped and softly passed his hand over the leafy
ground. Not the slightest artificial depression was there; he had
lost the trail of the party.

As it was utterly out of the question to learn how far he had
diverged from the path, it was also beyond his power to return to
it--that is, so long as the night lasted. The hoof-prints of the
horse were cut so deep in the yielding earth that, with considerable
trouble, he could have traced them among the trees; but even then he
would lack the great help which the scout is generally able to
command. In following a trail at night, he needs to possess a
thorough knowledge of the country, so as to reason out the probable
destination of his enemies, and consequently the general route they
will take. More than likely they will aim for some crossing or
camping ground, many miles in advance. The knowledge of the hunter
may enable him to take a shorter course and, by putting his horse to
his best, reach of them. About all he does, when engaged in this
hot chase, is to take his observations at widely separated points,
with a view of learning he is going astray.

It was precisely in this manner that the greatest scout of modern
days, Kit Carson, led a party on the heels of a party of Mexican
horse-thieves, with his steeds on a fall gallop the night thoroughly
overtook the criminals at daylight, chastised them and recaptured
the stolen property.

Deerfoot was lacking in that one requisite--familiarity with the
country. He had journeyed up and down the shores of the Mississippi,
had visited the settlement further west, and had gain much knowledge
of the southwestern portion of the present State of Missouri; but
this member of our Union occupies an immense area, and years would
be needed to enable him to act as guide through every section of it.
He had never traveled in many parts, and it will be perceived,
therefore, that it was out of his power to theorize in the wonderfully
brilliant manner which often made his successes due to an intuitive
inspiration that at times seemed to hover on the verge of the
unknowable sixth sense.

But strange must be the occasion in which Deerfoot would feel
compelled to fold his, arms and say, "I can do no more."

He had stood less than three minutes in the attitude of deep
attention, when he emitted a peculiar fluttering whistle, such as a
timid night bird sometimes makes from its perch in the up most
branches, while calling to its mate. It was still trembling on the
air, when a response came from a point not far away and to the
right. Could any one have seen the face of the youthful Shawanoe,
he would have observed a faint but grim smile playing around his
mouth.

He had uttered the signal which the Shawanoes rarely used. When
members of their scouts became temporarily lost from each other,
while in the immediate neighborhood of an enemy, and it was
necessary they should locate themselves, they did so by means of the
signal described. They refrained from appealing to it except in
cases of the utmost urgency, for if used too often it was likely to
become known to their enemies and its usefulness thus destroyed.

Deerfoot had secured a reply from the Shawanoe for whom he was
hunting, and thus learned his precise whereabouts. He instantly
began stealing his way toward him.

The usage among this remarkable tribe of Indians required him to
repeat the peculiar cry after hearing it, and the party of the
second should respond similarly. When the call had been wafted back
and forth in this fashion, Shawanoe law forbade its repetition,
except after a considerable interval, and then only under the most
urgent necessity.

Deerfoot held his peace, though he knew warrior was awaiting his
answer. Failing to call the response, the other would conclude that
the signal was in truth the call of a bird; but to guard against any
error, he repeated the tremulous whistle, when the stealthy Deerfoot
was within a few rods.

The latter could have taken his life with suddenness almost of the
lightning bolt, but he had no wish to do so. If Jack Carleton and
Otto Relstaub were in danger it would be from this warrior alone,
and so long as Deerfoot could keep him "in hand" no such danger
existed.

In the open forest, where the moonlight penetrated, a shadowy figure
assumed shape, and the pursuer recognized it as that of the Indian
whom he was so anxious to find. He had concluded to wait no longer,
and was advancing in a blind way along the trail of the lads.

Deerfoot stooped and passed his hand over the ground. One sweep was
enough to, identify the prints of the horse's hoofs, and the more
delicate impressions made by shoes and moccasins. The young Shawanoe,
by a careful examination of the trail, did that which will scarcely
be believed: he ascertained that one pair of moccasins went forward
and the other took the opposite course. Consequently, the Shawanoes
had parted company at a point slightly in advance (it could not be
far), and the warrior whom he saw must have waited where he was
while the night was closing in.

A few rods further and a second examination revealed the trail of a
single pair of moccasins, the line of demarcation had been passed.

All this time the elder was pushing among trees, Deerfoot catching a
glimpse of him now and then, so as to be able to regulate his own
pace that of his enemy. It was needful also that much
circumspection should be used, for when one person can trace the
movements of another, it follows that the possibilities are
reciprocal and the law vice versa obtains. The youth therefore held
resolutely back, and so guarded his movements that he was assured
against detection by any glance the warrior might cast behind him.

The trees in front diminished in number and soon ceased altogether.
The Shawanoe had reached the edge of a natural opening or clearing.
Pausing a moment, he stepped out where the moon shone full upon him,
and then halted again. Having the advantage of cover, Deerfoot
slipped carefully forward, until he stood within a few yards of the
red man, who little dreamed of the dreaded one that was within the
throw of a tomahawk.

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