Books: The Lost Trail
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Edward S. Ellis >> The Lost Trail
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"My gracious, Otto," exclaimed Jack, "can't you handle English a
little better than that? I thought your father was the crookedest
of speech of any person I ever heard, but he can't be any worse than
you."
"Yaw-don't it?" grinned Otto.
"Try to improve yourself! You ain't much of a fool on other
matters, and you may as well learn to talk like a civilized being.
I have seen Deerfoot shocked more than once at the horrible style in
which you mangle the king's English. I want you to promise to make
an effort to do better; will you?"
"Yaw; I dinks not efery dimes dot I does much better as nefer vos;
vot doesn't you dinks not apout it, eh-don't it? Yaw!"
Deerfoot had taken a couple of steps along the bank with the purpose
of hunting the hoof-prints of the missing horse, but he paused and
half turned about, looking with an amused expression at his friends
who were holding their characteristic conversation.
There was something noteworthy in the fact that while Otto had heard
the English tongue spoken quite correctly, from the hour he was able
to toddle out doors, he could not compare in his lingual skill to
Deerfoot, who had never attempted a word of the language until
wounded and taken prisoner by the whites. What caused all this
difference?
The same thing which distinguishes one man from another, and crowns
failure with success, or reverses it, as the case may be--brains.
The three youths moved down the bank in an irregular Indian file,
for no one saw the need of extra precaution. Deerfoot was about a
rod in advance, walking with a brisk step, for his searching eyes
took in everything in the field of vision, and the trail for which
he was searching was sure to be marked with a distinctness that
could permit no mistake.
It was the same apparently endless forest which met their eyes when
they looked across from Kentucky, and which seemed to encroach on
the borders of the river itself, as though envious of its space.
There was little undergrowth, and they advanced without difficulty.
"I dinks be ish close to vere de colt goomes owet", said Otto, his
words uttered with such deliberation that it was manifest he was
doing his best to heed the appeal of the young Kentuckian.
"That is a decided improvement," Jack hastened to say, with an
approving smile. You don't pronounce very well, but you built up
that sentence better than usual."
"Dot's vot I dinks no times, yaw--I means dot ish vot I dinks mine
Belf."
"Good!" said Jack, reaching out and patting his shoulder; "if you
will devote a few minutes to hard thought before speaking a single
word, you will improve until one of these days you will be able to
speak as well as Deerfoot."
"Yaw, dot ish nodings--yaw, holds on I dinks hard!" exclaimed Otto,
resolutely checking himself until he could gain time to frame the
expression he had in mind. But before he succeeded, a slight
exclamation from Deerfoot made own his discovery of the trail for
which they were hunting.
The others hastened to his side, and looking at the ground, saw the
hoof-prints of the horse that had run away with Otto Relstaub. As
the animal was well shod, there could be no mistaking the trail,
differing from that of the Indian ponies, which, as a matter of
course, were without such protection for their feet.
"Yaw, dot ish him," remarked the German, his effort being to surprise
Deerfoot as well as to please Jack Carleton by the correctness of his
diction.
A brief examination of the foot-prints showed that the colt had
taken matters leisurely after emerging from the Mississippi.
Instead of breaking into a gallop and plunging straight into the
woods, he had halted long enough to eat what little grass grew
within reach, after which he wandered off for more.
The trail was followed several hundred yards, until a rising ground
was reached. It was observed that for the distance named, the colt
was following a course slightly north of west-the very one which, if
persevered in long enough, would take him to the log cabin of his
owner.
Deerfoot said it was likely that the animal had set out of his own
accord to go home, and, provided he was not secured by some
wandering Indians, it was more than likely he would arrive at that
point in advance of the boys themselves.
Jack Carleton held the same views, and Otto, after taking a full
minute to shape up his ideas, said with great impressiveness:
"Dot ish vot I dinks as--yaw, I dinks dot."
"Hold on," interrupted Jack, raising his hand with a laugh; "you
have it straight now; don't spoil it by trying to improve it."
Otto nodded his head and held his peace. He was wise when he did
so.
Deerfoot was on the point of adding an encouraging remark, when his
keen vision detected something a short distance in advance which
claimed his attention. Without a word, he motioned for them to hold
their peace, and then ran rapidly several paces toward that which
had caught his eye.
CHAPTER XIX
THE SMOKE OF A CAMPFIRE
Deerfoot identified the object before reaching it. His friends
followed him doubtingly, and while a rod to the rear, saw him gather
it up and hold it aloft.
"It is your blanket," said Jack Carleton to his companion.
"Dot ish what it be."
It was easy to understand why the piece of coarse cloth lay on the
ground. Instead of rolling it up with the smaller one belonging to
Jack Carleton, Otto had made a separate bundle and strapped it
behind the other effects on the back of the horse. The latter in
moving among the trees had displaced it.
It was saturated with water, which dripped from the folds when
raised from the ground. Jack and Otto twisted it between them until
all the moisture it was possible to wring out left it in a dozen
tiny rills. "Deerfoot," said the German, wheeling about, "dot ish
de blanket vot--vot I don't--vot I put on your shoulders ven it
rained."
The Shawanoe bowed his head, smiled and said:
"Deerfoot knows his brother speaks truth."
"I gives him to you--be ish yours."
The Indian made no move to take it, and Jack added:
"We shall soon find the colt and with him my blanket and the other
articles he has with him. We do not need this; you have none, and
you have many miles to traverse before you reach your home; we shall
be glad if you will take it from us."
Deerfoot partly raised his hand to accept the gift, but stepped back
with a shake of his head.
"When my brother goes to the cabin of his father, and, he asks him
for the blanket, what will he say?"
"I vill tells him dot I gives him mit you."
"Then the father of my brother will strike him."
"I dinks dot ish so," said Otto with a grin and shrug of his
shoulders, "but I be glad to take a flogging for him dot does so
much for me--don't it?"
The youth compressed his thin lips and made a single shake of his
head, so positive in its character that nothing more was needed.
"But," added Jack Carleton, convinced from the hesitancy shown at
first by Deerfoot, that he really wished the blanket, "if you are so
desirous of saving Otto from a flogging, it can be easily done. When
we take back the colt and Mr. Relstaub asks for the blanket, we can
tell him that an Indian took it before we found the horse. That
will be the truth."
Deerfoot looked straight in the face of the young Kentuckian, and
his lips parted as if on the point of speaking, but he refrained,
and with his shadowy smile, again shook his head. The gesture said
as plainly as the words could have done:
"What you propose is as much a falsehood as anything can be."
"But I will give Otto my blanket," persisted Jack Carleton, determined
to overcome the scruples of the remarkable Indian, "that will make
things right."
"Where is my brother's blanket?" asked Deerfoot with a grave
countenance.
"I shall soon find it: the horse can't be far off."
"Deerfoot will wait till my brother finds it."
"Well! well", said Jack, with a wondering sigh, "you are the
strangest person I ever saw. It isn't worth while to argue any
question with you. So we'll let it pass."
Such seemed to be the wish of Deerfoot, for, with his silent step,
he moved along the elevated ground, until he arrived at a spot where
the trees were so few and stunted that an extended view was obtained.
There the three halted side by side, and spent several minutes gazing
over the surrounding country.
Looking toward Kentucky, the majestic Mississippi was in plain sight
as it swept southward, while beyond stretched the undulating forest,
until it met the dim horizon in the distance. Far to the southward
was seen the smoke of a campfire. It was unusually murky, and, as
it ascended in a wavy line through the clear atmosphere, it looked
as if the soiled finger of some great ogre had been drawn against
the clear blue sky.
But it was a sight which every one of the party had seen before, and
it excited little interest. It was no concern of theirs what took
place in Kentucky, and Jack and Otto turned to survey the "promised
land," which opened out to the westward.
Woods, patches of natural clearing, hills and misty mountains many
miles away: these were the general features of the immense area
which expanded before their sight. Ordinarily there was nothing
among these of special account, but the eye of Deerfoot, which never
seemed to lose anything, detected almost instantly a "sign" that
signified a great deal to him and his companions.
In a depression, no more than a furlong distant, could be observed
the faintest possible tinge of smoke, slowly ascending from a mass
of dense forest. It was so faint, in fact, that neither Jack nor
Otto noticed it, until Deerfoot pointed his finger in that
direction, and said "The camp of red men!"
The vapor was of a light blue, just above the tree-top's, and it
rose only a few feet more, when it dissolved in the clear atmosphere.
But it showed that a camp-fire was burning beneath, though it may
have been kindled many hours before, and those who started it
possibly were miles away in the depths of the forest.
"Suppose they are Shawanoes or Miamis?" remarked Jack.
"They are not Shawanoes," said Deerfoot quietly.
"Miamis then?"
"Deerfoot thinks they are not Miamis, but he cannot be sure till he
sees the camp."
And without further remark, he went down the slope with a rapid
step, which, it is hardly necessary to say, gave out no noise at
all. Jack concluded he could not feel much misgiving or he would
not have allowed him and Otto to follow so close on his heels. But
they were some distance off, when he turned about and motioned them
to halt.
"Let my brothers wait for Deerfoot," he said softly.
Knowing he would be obeyed without question, Deerfoot continued his
advance, speedily disappearing from sight among the trees and
undergrowth, while the others did as he requested.
The discovery of the camp-fire not only caused some misgivings about
the personal safety of the little company, but it suggested that the
missing horse was lost beyond recovery. Horse-flesh is the most
"sensitive capital" on the frontier, and he who pilfers it runs more
danger of lynching than does the man who takes the life of a fellow
being. To the Indian, the noble animal is as indispensable as to
the settler, and, if the party who had made the halt in that
neighborhood learned that an unusually fine steed was wandering near
them, they would lose no time in making him captive.
But from the moment our young friends left their elevated position,
they followed a different route from that of the colt.
"Mine gracious!" whispered the disturbed German lad: "I dinks dot if
they don't got de golt then the golt don't got dem, and fader he
won't be as bleased as nefer vos."
"There isn't any hurry, Otto, in putting your words together, and it
is a good time for you to try to string them so they will make a
little sense."
"Yaw; I vill tries."
"Sh! There comes some one!"
It was Deerfoot, who appeared a moment later, and beckoned his
friends to join him. His manner, while not careless, was so
manifestly free from solicitude, that Jack knew there was no ground
for alarm. He and Otto overtook the Shawanoe at the moment he
stepped into the open space where a camp-fire had been burning some
time before.
In fact it was still burning, else the smoke would not have caught
the eye of the Indian youth; but it must have been smoldering for
hours, judging from the thinness of the vapor, and the fact that
little more than a pile of ashes and decaying embers met the sight.
There is naught to be said in the way of description. The fire,
when kindled, had been a large one, and all the burning sticks were
in one pile instead of two or three, as is often the case. The
charred ends protruded irregularly from the white, feathery ashes,
and one solitary brand, smothered almost from sight, sent up the
faint bluish vapor which, creeping through the foliage overhead,
told the vigilant Shawanoe where to look for the camp of his
enemies.
"How long have they been gone?" asked Jack, gazing carefully around
and assuring himself that no strangers were near.
"They went away when the sun first came up from the woods; many
hours have passed since they left."
"Which course did they take?"
Deerfoot pointed toward the south.
"Were you right in saying they were not Shawanoes?"
"They did not belong to my tribe."
"Ah, then they were Miamis. I made up my mind to that."
"My brother is wrong," replied Deerfoot, with a flitting smile;
"they were Osage Indians."
"How don't you know dot?"
"My other brother is wrong: Deerfoot said not he did not know it; he
does know they were Osages."
Jack Carleton poked Otto in the side.
"Even Deerfoot corrects your language."
"All rights," said Otto, bristling up; "I'ven I don't haf a mind to,
I talks mebbe better nor you does; but ven I does, den I don't; so I
shets up my mouth up, mebbe--don't it?"
Deerfoot stepped to a fallen tree, which no doubt had served as a
seat for most of the party, and picked up a strip of blanket, hardly
a foot long and no more than an inch wide. It was not only
cunningly woven, but showed brilliant blue and yellow colors on a
background of black.
"This was the blanket of an Osage warrior," said the Shawanoe,
flinging it to Otto, who turned it over several times in silence,
Jack looking over his shoulder.
"I suppose he caught sight of that before we came up and learned the
truth; don't you think so?"
"I don't dink nodings more," replied Otto, still pouting from the
offence given a few minutes previous.
Bending over, Deerfoot carefully drew some leaves aside and revealed
the upper bone of a deer's foreleg, to which a good quantity of
partially broiled venison was clinging. Judging from this discovery
and the number of bones scattered about, the Osages had more food
than they needed.
"We--that is, you and I, Deerfoot--are hungry. Is the meat in shape
for us to eat?"
The Shawanoe had satisfied himself by examination that it was ready
for the palate, and he so expressed himself.
"That is good; there is just enough to make as a good dinner. Otto
doesn't look as though he cared about any, and he can wait till
tomorrow."
This statement of the situation quickly loosened the tongue of the
sturdy German, whose hunger had reached a ravenous point.
"I speaks mit myself luf ven I vishes," he hastened to say; "I vos
as hungry as nefer could be, and what for you dinks I ain't, eh?"
Jack laughed, and, sitting on the same tree which had served the red
men, all three used their keen hunting-knives upon the rarely-cooked
meat. They could have enjoyed much more had it been at their
disposal; but as it was, they made a substantial meal, receiving
enough nourishment to last them till the morrow.
"How many warriors were here?" asked Jack of their leader.
"Seven," was the prompt reply.
"What brought them to this place?"
"They were hunting; an Osage village is not many miles off yonder,"
said Deerfoot, pointing to the southwest; "and they have gone there.
They spent the night here."
"Did they get my horse?" asked Otto, whose face was aglow with good
nature and grease.
"My brother shall soon know."
CHAPTER XX
"GOOD-BYE!"
Deerfoot directed his course toward the elevation where he and his
friends stood when they first caught sight of the smoke of the
camp-fire. It was an easy matter to determine, whether the Osages
had discovered the horse while in that section. If they had not
done so, the probabilities were against their finding him at all.
An interesting question had already been answered by Deerfoot,
respecting the degree of hostility of the Osage Indians. There was
comfort in the thought that they were not active and malignant in
their enmity. They were not likely to trail a white man for the
sake of taking his life, as their fierce brethren across the
Mississippi loved to do, nor did they possess the courage of the
warlike Shawanoes, whose encounters with the early pioneers of the
West form the most thrilling episodes in its history.
But, like the vagabond red men of to-day, the Osages were of that
character that a white man would much prefer not to meet them in a
lonely place, unless help was present or within call. If they
should come across the two boys, their treatment of them would
depend very much on the mood in which they happened to be. They
would be inclined to rob them of everything worth taking, and might
end the matter by shooting both or turning them adrift without guns
or ammunition.
Had Deerfoot been alone, he would have given them no thought. He
had visited their villages more than once, and though the questions
of several of their warriors showed that they regarded him with
suspicion, they offered no indignity, and made no objection to his
departure.
Had the Osages found the wandering they would refuse to give him up
on the demand of the owner. In that case, as in one already
related, he could be regained only by strategy, in which the boys
were sure to need the help of Deerfoot.
But all this speculation speedily ended. An examination revealed
the fact that the trail of the steed and that of the warriors
crossed, but the latter was fully two hours older than the former,
and from the point of intersection they diverged. Thus it was
proven that the colt had been grazing for a considerable time close
to the Indians without them suspecting it.
The Osages had continued traveling in a southwesterly direction,
while the stray horse had kept on in a course slightly to the north
of west. There could be no doubt that the warriors were making
their way homeward, while the animal seemed guided by an instinct
that promised to place him in the possession of his owner, without
any assistance from the son.
The discovery was most gratifying to all parties, Deerfoot
expressing his pleasure that Otto was not likely to suffer at the
hands of his irate parent for the disaster which was unavoidable on
his part.
"Good fortune awaits my brother," said he; "he may not meet any red
men on his way home, where Deerfoot hopes the horse will greet him
when he arrives."
"Did you see any Indians on this side the Mississippi when you were
riding him?" asked Jack.
Otto shook his head, as he was sure that style of answer could not
be criticized by either of his companions.
"The outlook is a good one indeed," said Jack, heartily; "and what
you have done, Deerfoot, is more than we can ever repay. You need
not be, told that if it ever comes within our power to give you
help, it will not be denied."
To their surprise the young Shawanoe extended his hand to Otto.
"Good-bye, brother."
The lad shook it warmly, and said:
"Ish you going not--I means, will you leave us?"
"Deerfoot must go; good-bye, brother."
The second farewell was addressed to Jack Carleton, who fervently
pressed the soft hand, an said with much feeling:
"Sorry are we to part company, but you your own master. I hope we
shall soon meet again!"
"We shall," was all that the Shawanoe said as he released his hand
and moved off, vanishing almost instantly among the trees.
The boys stood several minutes, silent and thoughtful, looking
toward the point where the Shawanoe was last seen, as though they
expected him to return; but the silence around them continued as
profound as at "creation's morn." They knew that when the young
warrior took such a step, he was in earnest.
He would have been glad to keep them company, but some good reason
took him in another direction.
"We shall meet him again," said Jack Carleton, with a slight sigh of
regret, recalling the last words of Deerfoot; "from all that was
told me about him in Kentucky, he is such a friend to the whites
that he was never away from their settlements for a very long time.
I have been anxious to know him."
"They used to dell von great shtories apout him," said Otto,
speaking with great care.
"And I never believed one half of them. The idea of a young Shawanoe
reading his Bible every day, and being able to write the prettiest
kind of a band, was something that made us laugh, but every word of
it was true, as he proved to us."
"Den vot pig dings be doos in de woods!"
"I should say so. Just think of it, Otto! There we were among a
pile of logs, surrounded as you may say by Indian warriors, bent on
having our scalps, and yet he delivered a letter to us, explaining
the plan he had formed, and then alone scared away the whole lot, so
we could out. When you get back home and tell parents this story,
what will they say?"
"Mine fader will say nodings, but he vill cut pig stick and bang me
as bard as nefer vos lying."
"And I can't wonder much at it," said Jack with a laugh, "but it
will be truth, nevertheless, and it is no more wonderful than many
things he has done."
"Vy doesn't dey calls him Deerfoot--dot ish, why does dey?"
"On account of his fleetness; he is the swiftest runner ever known
in Kentucky. A year or two ago, he was captured by the Wyandots,
who hate him worse than poison. He pretended he was lame, which put
the idea in the head of his capture to have some fun with him. They
took him out on a long clearing and placed him in front of the
swiftest warriors, and then told him to run for his life. Well, he
ran."
"Did they cotch him and kill him, or didn't he get away?"
"Those Indians," said Jack, ignoring the absurdity of Otto's
question, "saw such running as they never looked upon before.
Deerfoot just scooted away from them, as though he had wings. One
of the Hurons had treated him very bad and Deerfoot paid him."
"How vosn't dot?"
"He drove his tomahawk through his skull."
"Yaw; I dinks he doesn't bodder Deerfoot not much more."
"I never heard that he did, but you can't understand why the Indians
hate him as they do. I've heard that Tecumseh offered a dozen
horses, and I don't know how much wampum and other presents, to the
warrior who would bring back his scalp. But I've no doubt he had to
send out a proclamation taking back the offer."
"Vy vosn't dot?"
"I've been told that the rule was when a Huron or Shawanoe went out
to hunt for Deerfoot, that was the last heard of him. He never came
back, and you see that Deerfoot still wears his scalp."
"Vere didn't them goes to vot didn't comes back?"
"To their happy hunting-grounds. Sometimes, their bodies were found
moldering in the woods. And sometimes no one ever knew where they
perished. Deerfoot is a Christian (and, Otto, made me feel ashamed
of myself), but he isn't the kind to sit down and allow any one to
walk off with his scalp. Tecumseh is a young chief, who's is ambitious
to make war upon the whites. He must have concluded that if he didn't
stop his warriors hunting Deerfoot there would be none left for him!
I can't understand, Otto, how it was your father turned him away from
his door, when he stopped there at night in a storm."
"Ah, Jack, you doesn't know how mean mine fader ish," said the
German with a grin though proud of his parent.
"He couldn't have known that it was Deerfoot," said Jack,
reflectively.
"Dot wouldn't make no difference; he treat all Indians de same. One
dimes they stole a pig vot didn't pelongs to him and he whipped me
as hard as nefer vos, and he hates all Indians for dot."
"It is a great mistake," added Jack thoughtfully, "for you know how
revengeful they are, and one of these days some trumping redskin
that he has abused will steal up to his house and shoot him dead."
"Dot is vot I tolds him," said Otto; "and he will be as sorry as
dunderation ven it afift too late."
"Well," added Jack, looking around him, "it isn't worth while to
stand here, when we have such a long ways to travel, and there is no
certainty the colt hasn't changed his course and gone away from the
settlement instead of toward it."
Otto agreed with his friend, and, picking up his damp blanket, he
threw it over his shoulder, and each with his gun in his hand,
resumed the pursuit of the stray, which they hoped was at no great
distance.
The hoof-prints showed that the horse continued to take matters very
philosophically. His fastest gait was a leisurely walk, and often
he stood still and nibbled the buds of the vegetation not yet fully
developed.
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