Books: The Lost Trail

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"Such being the case we must not tarry."

The Shawanoe acted as though he did not intend to enter the canoe
with them, seemingly having some object in remaining on the Kentucky
side; but he changed his mind, probably concluding that his services
were still needed by his friends.

He motioned to Jack, who stepped into the boat and picked up one of
the paddles, Otto having done the same. Deerfoot leaped lightly
after them, the impulse carrying the craft fully a rod from shore.
He laid down his gun and bow, and, seizing the third paddle, made
such a powerful sweep through the water that the others almost lost
their balance. They essayed to help him, but he asked them with a
smile to cease and leave the management of the boat entirely to him.

"We might as well," said Jack, "for we shall only hinder you."

"Dot ish de same as I doesn't dinks."

A few strokes sent the canoe well out from the land, and the
Shawanoe still plied the paddle with extraordinary skill; but, as he
left the shore, he knew that in one respect the danger of himself
and companions was increased. If their enemies were anywhere along
the Mississippi, with a suspicion of the truth, they could not fail
to detect them.

It proved as he suspected. Several whoops echoed from a point a
short distance below, and the quick eye of the leader caught sight
of the Miamis and Shawanoes on the bank.

"Down! Down!" he said, excitedly; "let my brothers lower their
heads or they will be killed."

Both Jack and Otto extended themselves flat on the bottom of the
boat, but Deerfoot remained upright, plying the paddle with might
and main. He headed out in the stream, and used every effort to get
beyond reach of the rifles of his enemies.

"Why don't you duck your head, too?" demanded the alarmed Jack;
"they can hit you as easily as us."

But Deerfoot had his eyes on the party and did not mean to throw
away his life. He saw there were four red men who stood together on
the very edge of the wood. When two of them raised their guns and
sighted at him, he dropped like the loon, which dodges the bullet of
the hunter by the flash of his gun.

A couple of reports sounded like one, and the three on the bottom of
the canoe heard the bark fly. Both balls had pierced it, entering
one side and passing out on the other. The weight of the occupants
caused the boat to sink sufficiently to protect them, so long as
they remained flat on the bottom. One of the bullets was aimed so
low that it struck the water, ricocheting through the bark and
bounding off in space. The other went within an inch of Deerfoot's
figure, he being slightly higher than either of the others.

The echoes of the guns were ringing through the wood, when the
Shawanoe straightened up and dipped the paddle into the waters
again; but he had time for only one sweeping stroke when down he
went once more, barely in time to escape the third shot.

Before using the paddles, he raised his head just enough to peep
over the gunwale. He saw the three warriors deliberately reloading
their weapons, while the other was waiting for his target to present
itself. There were two others, who had been drawn thither by the
calls of the first party.

"I dinks maybe I can does somedings to help," said Otto, timidly
looking over the side of the craft; "mebbe I sees--mine gracious!"

The gun which was fired just then sent the bullet, as may be said,
directly under the nose of the German, who lowered his face with
such quickness that the whole boat jarred from the bump against the
bottom.

"Deerfoot, won't it be a good thing to send a shot at them?" asked
Jack; "it seems to me they would not be quite so ready with their
guns."

The Shawanoe was evidently of the same mind. He had the choice of
two weapons, and need it be said which was the one selected?

Standing erect in the canoe, he fitted an arrow to the string with
incredible dexterity and launched it with a speed that rendered it
almost invisible. The distance caused him to elevate the missile
slightly, but the aim of Simon Kenton or Daniel Boone, with his
long, trusty rifle, could not have been more unerring.

The red men on shore were well aware of his amazing skill, and they
lost no time in adopting the dodging tactics. The instant the form
of the graceful young warrior was thrown in relief against the sky
and wooded shore, they bounded behind the nearest trees, peering
forth like frightened children.

The movement saved one life at least, for the winged missile which,
a second later, whizzed over the spot where they had been standing,
was driven with a force that would have caused it to plunge clean
through the body of any one in its path.

Deerfoot remained erect in the canoe until the shaft had landed,
when he gave utterance to a defiant shout; sat down, and
deliberately took up the paddle again.

It will be borne in mind that the yellow current of the Mississippi
was swollen by freshets near its headwaters, and the canoe not only
danced about a great deal, but was borne swiftly downward, seeing
which the Indians hastened in a parallel course, with the purpose of
holding it within range. Furthermore, other red men continually
appeared at a lower point. It is within bounds to say that there
was not one who did not understand the stratagem by which the young
Shawanoe had outwitted them, and there was no means within their
reach which they would not have put forth to revenge themselves upon
him.

Within a brief space of time the guns of the warriors began popping
from so many different points that Deerfoot dare not attempt to use
the paddle. The blue puffs of smoke were so near that it would have
been fatal to expose himself to the aim of his enemies, but, unless
the canoe could be propelled still further from them, it was likely
to be riddled by the converging fires.

"Things are in a bad shape," remarked Jack Carleton, afraid to raise
his head a single inch, for the boat rode most uncomfortably high;
"we must do something, and yet what can we do?"

Deerfoot made no answer; his fertile brain had extricated other
parties from more critical situations than the one in which he was
now placed, and he was quick to decide upon an expedient for doing
the same in the present instance.

CHAPTER XVII

THE LOUISIANA SHORE

Deerfoot threw himself over the side of the canoe into the river,
holding fast to the gunwale with one hand and keeping the boat
between him and the Indians on shore. With the arm which was free,
he swam toward the Louisiana side, towing the craft after him.

While it seemed absolutely necessary that something of the kind
should be done, yet the reader will perceive that the course of the
Shawanoe was extremely perilous, not only for himself, but for his
friends whom he was so anxious to benefit. His removal from the
canoe caused it to ride higher, and thereby exposed them to the
bullets that were continually skipping about it. Deerfoot himself
was forced to keep his shoulders at such an elevation that he was
liable to be perforated by some flying missiles, but he increased
the distance between himself and enemies with greater speed than
would be supposed.

"I dinks dis ish good style," said Otto to Jack, who moved his head
so as to see what he was doing. The sagacious German had gathered
the three paddles so they were added to that side of the craft which
served as a partial shield against the shots from the shore. The
implements were so arranged that the lad felt safe against harm,
unless the boat should turn half way round before he could
accommodate himself to the changed condition of things.

"It is a good idea," said Jack, admiringly, as he hastened to avail
himself of the defense; "I don't believe one of their bullets can
pierce our shield."

Something cold made itself felt through the clothing of the young
Kentuckian, where his hip pressed the bottom of the canoe. Groping
with his hand he found it was water, which he saw bubbling through a
bullet-hole that was forced below the surface by the vigor of
Deerfoot's arm. The opposite side of the boat was lifted
correspondingly high, so that the sunlight shone through.

It will be understood that the conditions prevented the Shawanoe
from towing the boat directly across the Mississippi. The swift
current rendered a diagonal course necessary, and even that could
not be pushed with enough power to prevent the party drifting down
stream.

The red men kept up a desultory fire, but it was less frequent and
manifestly less hopeful than at first. They could not but see that
the craft was steadily passing beyond range, and the chances of
inflicting injury grew less every moment. Soon the firing ceased
altogether.

A moment later, the dripping form of Deerfoot flipped over the
gunwale again, diffusing moisture in every direction. Without a
word, he seized the paddle and plied it with his old-time skill and
vigor. He looked keenly toward Kentucky, but saw nothing of his
enemies: they must have concluded to withdraw and bestow their
attention elsewhere.

But, convinced that they were still watching the course of the
canoe, he again rose to his feet, and, circling the paddle over his
head, gave utterance to a number of tantalizing whoops. His enemies
had been outwitted with such cleverness that the youth could not
deny himself the pleasure of expressing his exultation in that
characteristic fashion.

When Jack Carleton discovered the water bubbling through the
bullet-hole in the side of the canoe, as though it was a tiny spring
that had just burst forth, he was afraid it would sink the craft.
He inserted the end of his finger to check, in some measure, the
flow; but Deerfoot, observing the act, shook his head to signify it
was unnecessary.

"My brothers shall reach land," he said.

"I have no doubt we shall, since you are using the paddle again, but
a little while ago it looked as though the land we were going to
reach was at the bottom of the river. Deerfoot," added Jack, with a
smile, "they have punctured this boat pretty thoroughly. I cannot
understand how it was we all escaped when the bullets seemed to be
everywhere."

"The Great Spirit turned aside the bullets," said the Shawanoe.

"No he didn't," was the sturdy response of Jack; "I acknowledge His
mercies, which have followed us all the days of our lives, but that
is not the way He works. You know as well as do I, that if yon get
in the way of a Shawanoe or Miami rifle, you will be hit unless yon
are very quick to get out of the way again; but for all that," the
Kentuckian hastened to add, noticing a reproving expression on the
countenance of his dusky friend, "my heart overflows with gratitude
because we have been saved, when there seemed not the first ray of
hope for us. The bullets came near, but none touched us."

"I dinks different," was the unexpected remark of Otto, who,
assuming the sitting position, took off his cap, and, after fumbling
awhile through his shock of yellow hair, actually found a ball,
which he held up between his fingers.

"Vot don't you dinks ob him, eh?" he asked, triumphantly.

The amazed Jack took the object and examined it. No need was there
of doing so; it was a rifle ball beyond question.

"How in the name of all that's wonderful did that get into your
hair?" asked his friend.

"I 'spose he was shot dere, and my head was too hard for it to pass
through, so he stops, don't it?"

The canoe was so close to shore that Deerfoot stopped paddling for
the moment and extended his band for the missile. He simply held it
up, glanced at it, and then tossed it back to Otto with the remark:

"The head of my brother is thick like the rock, but the ball was not
fired from a gun."

With a bewildered expression, as though some forgotten fact was
beginning to dawn upon him, Otto laid his cap in his lap and began
searching through his hair with both hands. A moment later, his
face beamed with one of his most expansive smiles, and he showed two
more rifle-bullets that had been fished from the capillary depths.

"Yaw, I forgots him; I puts dem pullets in mine hat yesterday and I
dinks dey was lost; dat is looky, ain't it?"

"I don't see anything particularly lucky about it," said Jack, who
suspected that much of the lad's stupidity was assumed. A healthy
youngster never fails to have the organ of mirth well forward in
development, and the promptings of Otto's innate love of fun seemed
to have little regard for time, place or circumstances.

The American Indian is probably the most melancholy of the five
races of men; but even he is not lacking in the element of mirth
which it is maintained is often displayed by dumb animals.

When Deerfoot heard the explanation of Otto, he did not smile, but
with a grave expression of countenance gave his entire attention to
the paddle in his hand. The German sat with his back toward the
front of the canoe, the other two facing him, the Shawanoe being at
the rear. The shore was only a few rods away, the Mississippi being
much less agitated at the side than in the middle.

Without any display of effort, the warrior used the long paddle with
all the power he could put forth. Very soon the craft attained a
speed greater than either of the pale faces suspected.

"No," repeated Jack Carleton, "I can't see where there is any
special luck in finding the bullets in your hair; I shouldn't be
surprised if they had been there for a week. You must use a very
coarse-toothed comb."

"My brother uses no comb at all," suggested Deerfoot, in a solemn
voice, from the rear of the boat, which was speeding like an arrow
over the water.

"Now you have struck the truth," laughed Jack.

Otto rose to a stooping position, steadying himself as best he
could, and extended his hand to shake that of the Shawanoe, as proof
that he indorsed his remark. He placed a hand on the shoulder of
the Kentuckian to steady himself, for he knew that it is a difficult
matter for one to keep his balance in such a delicate structure as
an Indian canoe.

"Deerfoot ish not such a pig fool as he don't look to be, somedimes
I dinks he knows more nodins dan nopody; den van he h'ists sail in
his canoe and sails off mitout saying nodings to nopody, den I don't
dinks."

Otto Relstaub had reached that point in his remark, when the bow of
the canoe arrived in Louisiana. It struck the shore with a violence
that started the seams through the entire structure. The author of
all this of course kept his seat, for he had braced himself for the
shook. At the same time he caught the shoulder of Jack Carleton, as
if to hold him quiet, but it was all pretense on his part. There
was no "grip" to his fingers, and Jack immediately plunged forward,
his head bumping the bottom of the boat with a crash.

As for Otto Relstaub, the consequences took away his breath. As he
was trying to stand on his feet, he had a great deal more of falling
to do it than his friend. He did it most thoroughly, sitting down
with such emphasis that the side of the canoe gave way, and he
continued the act on dry land, being stopped by a small sapling in
his path.

Otto whirled over on his face, and scrambling to his feet, stared
around to learn the extent of the calamity. He gathered up his gun
and hat, and then, stooping, passed his hands over the bark and
attentively examined it.

"I dinks it ish split a good deal mit my head," he remarked, with a
grave countenance.

Meanwhile, Jack Carleton had regained his upright position and
shaken himself together. When he saw Otto in an inverted position,
he broke into hearty laughter, hastened, no doubt, by the fact that
Deerfoot was shaking from head to foot with mirth. His black eyes
glistened with tears, caused by his amusement over the performance
of the German. He was laughing all over, though he gave out not the
slightest sound.

As for Jack Carleton, he chuckled and gurgled with a noise like that
of water running out of a bottle, while the main victim of all this
merriment was as solemn as an owl. After rubbing and adjusting
himself, as may be said, he turned slowly about and gazed inquiringly
at his friends in the boat, as if puzzled to understand the cause of
their emotions.

"Vot ish dot you seem to laugh mit?" he demanded, in an injured
voice; "I see nodings."

When the others had somewhat recovered from their mirth, Otto began
laughing with scarcely less heartiness than they showed. The absurd
occurrence seemed slow to impress itself upon his consciousness.

Deerfoot did not allow himself to remain idle many minutes. The
fractured front of the craft being immovably fixed in the bank, he
leaned his head over the side and washed the paint from his face.
He disliked to disfigure himself in that fashion, though he always
carried the stuff with him, to be used in such an emergency as has
been described.

The blanket stolen from him had been carried away by one of the
warriors, so that Deerfoot held only the rifle and ammunition in the
way of a reprisal; but they were more than sufficient to replace the
property he had lost, and he had no cause for complaint.

Stepping on solid land again, with the water dripping from his
clothing, the handsome warrior stood erect, and looked at Kentucky
across the "Father of Waters." Instead of the villages and towns
which now grace the locality, he saw only the lonely woods
stretching north and south until lost to view.

But he knew enemies were there, and the keen vision of the youth was
searching for them. They must have become discouraged over what had
taken place, for not the first sign of the red men could be discerned.
They seemed to have "folded their tents," and stolen off as silently
as the Arabs.

But far down the Mississippi, a canoe put out from the Kentucky side
and approached the opposite bank. It kept out of sight until
Deerfoot the Shawanoe had withdrawn, and then it advanced with the
care and stealth of the trained Indian on the war-path.

The craft was full of Miamis and Shawanoes, armed to the teeth, and
impelled by the greatest incentive that can inflame the passions of
the American Indian--revenge.

CHAPTER XVIII

ON THE LOUISIANA SHORE

At last the little party were across the Mississippi. The Indian
canoe, so injured that it was useless until repaired, was pushed
back into the turbid current and went spinning down the river,
sometimes bumping against the bank and then dancing further from
shore, until striking broadside against a nodding "sawyer," it
overturned, and thereafter resembled an ordinary log, on its way
toward the Gulf.

It was the first time that Jack Carleton had placed foot on
Louisiana soil, and be stood for a moment gazing backward at
Kentucky, amid whose confines he was born and beyond which he never
strayed, except when on an occasional hunting excursion into Ohio.

"I wonder whether I shall ever tread those forests again," he said
to himself; "I can't say that I'm anxious to do so, for there have
always been too many Indians for comfort. They killed my father and
broke the heart of my mother. No, Kentucky, good bye," he added,
turning his face toward the west, with a feeling that in that
direction lay his future home.

Meanwhile Deerfoot and Otto took but a few minutes to prepare for
their journey. The Indian having lost his blanket, held only the,
rifle and ammunition by way of superfluous luggage, and it could not
be said that his companions were unduly burdened, since the runaway
colt had relieved them in that respect.

Deerfoot slung his long bow back of his shoulders, as he was
accustomed to do when he wished the unrestrained use of both arms,
and carried the rifle as the others did theirs.

The belief obtained with all three that in leaving Kentucky they
bade good-bye to most of the personal peril to which they bad been
subjected. The reader knows that that section was ravaged by the
fierce Shawanoes, Miamis, Hurons and other tribes who were
implacable in their hostility to the white men, and who did so much
to give it the name of the Dark and Bloody Ground by which it was so
long known. There were thousands of red men ranging through the
immense province known as Louisiana, and the crack of the hostile
rifle, the war-cry of the dusky chieftain, and the shock, of mortal
combat marked the meeting of the races, whether on the clearing, in
the forest, or in the lonely defile in the mountain.

In that section to which I have referred more than once, as now
bearing the name of Missouri, the fighting between the whites and
Indians was much less than on the eastern bank of the Mississippi.
It will be understood, therefore, why, when the little company of
friends stood on the western shore, they felt much less concern than
while on the other side.

Less than two days' tramp to the westward lay the young settlement
where dwelt the mother of Jack Carleton, the parents of Otto
Relstaub and a dozen other families who had emigrated thither from
Kentucky. Far beyond and to the southward among the wildest
fastnesses of the Ozark mountains the young Shawanoe had taken
refuge, where he felt secure against those of his race who hated him
with irrestrainable ferocity.

As it would require no great digression on the part of Deerfoot, and
as it was not to be supposed that time was very valuable to him,
Jack and Otto supposed he would go with them the entire distance to
the log cabin of Jacob Relstaub. To their surprise, however, he
quietly said be could keep them company only a short time longer.

"I had no doubt you would be with us to the end," said the
disappointed Jack.

"It would make the heart of Deerfoot glad if he could go with his
brothers whom he loves; but he cannot."

"Vot ain't de reason?" asked Otto, unrestrained by the sense of
propriety which held the tongue of Jack silent.

"Deerfoot is called yonder," was the reply, pointing south of the
path which lay before the others.

They were silent a minute or so, in the hope that, he would explain
his meaning, but he did not, and even Otto saw that he had no right
to question him further.

Aware that his friends were waiting for him to add something,
Deerfoot continued:

"The path of my brothers is straight, and they will not get down on
their knees to look for the trail. There are no Shawanoes among the
trees to fire when they are not looking, and Deerfoot can may no
words that will do good."

"It is not that which causes us to hope for your company," replied
Jack, who was standing several feet away from the youthful warrior
and looking in his serious countenance; "but it is because we like
you, not only for what we have heard from others, but for what we
have seen with our own eyes, and for what you have done for us, that
we are loath to part with you."

"Deerfoot will go part of the way," the Indian hastened to say,
perceiving the feeling of his friends, "but it cannot be long."

"Far be it from me to question what you do; no right belongs to me,
but I could not let you go without telling bow much we appreciate
what you have done for us, and how much we admire your noble
character."

It was one of the peculiarities of Deerfoot that he never accepted
the most pointed compliment. When forced to reply to a direct one,
he turned it aside with an indifference which showed he placed no
value upon it. As Jack Carleton remarked later on, praise ran from
Deerfoot like water from a duck's back.

But another matter forced itself upon the attention of the boys, who
were on their way to the settlement. It has been stated already
that the father of Otto Relstaub was penurious, miserly, and cruel.
The colt on which the boy had ridden to Coatesville, Kentucky, and
part of the way back again, was the better of the two horses owned
by him. Its loss was certain to throw him into a great rage, and
doubtless would bring down the severest punishment on the back and
shoulders of the son.

Jack Carleton understood this prospect as well as did Otto himself,
and he was of the belief that a resolute effort should be put forth
to recover the horse. When the matter was stated to Deerfoot, his
own knowledge of the ill-tempered German caused him to urge the
attempt. In fact he would have done so, had the case been otherwise,
for the value of the animal was considerable. Furthermore, Deerfoot
was of the opinion that the colt could be regained without serious
difficulty, and he told them they had little to fear from hostile
Indians.

Had the Shawanoe seen the canoe, loaded to the gunwales with red men
in their war paint, which at that very moment was stealing close
under the Louisiana shore, be would have modified his remarks to a
very considerable extent.

The peculiarly original manner in which the boys crossed the
Mississippi had resulted in carrying them some distance below the
trail that trended to the westward. As the runaway horse had
undergone the same experience, and as Otto had descried him when he
emerged from the river, it was easy to locate quite closely the
point where he entered Louisiana.

"It ish below vere we don't stands not dis moment," he said, when
they were ready to move off.

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