The Lost Trail by Edward Sylvester Ellis (small books to read .txt) 📖

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.

The elder Indian seemed to be speculating the probable course of the unconscious fugitives. It could not be supposed that he was familiar with the country (since his home was on the other side of the Mississippi), but like the majority of mankind when in difficulty, he was able to form a theory, but unlike that majority, he proved his faith in it by his works. Instead of following the footprints, he diverged to the right and coursed along the edge of the clearing, where he was almost entirely concealed by the shadow of the trees.

He had not gone far, when Deerfoot silently emerged from the wood. His keen eye revealed what must have been noticed by the other: on that spot the boys had stopped with the intention of encamping for the night. Had they remained, beyond all doubt one or both would have been slain, but from some cause (long since explained to the reader) they passed on.

Deerfoot hurried on with a speed that was almost reckless, for that marvelous intuition seemed to whisper that the crisis was near. His friends could not be far off, and the question of safety or danger must be speedily settled.

Just beyond the clearing, while hastening forward, he caught, the glow of the fire shining through the rents and crevices of the shabby skin of the Osage wigwam. He heard the of voices within, and a few seconds later he was peeping through the same orifice that had a similar purpose for jack Carleton when played the part of eavesdropper.

CHAPTER XXXII TURNING THE TABLES

Although Jack Carleton and Otto Relstaub understood nothing of the conversation (excepting the few words of mangled English) between Wish-o-wa-tum, the Osage chieftain, and the Shawanoe who entered his lodge, little was lost upon Deerfoot.

Without quoting the language, it may be said that Arorara declared the two boys to be thieves and wretches of the worst imaginable degree. They had stolen the horses of the Shawanoes and Miamis, and had treacherously shot, not only the warriors, but the squaws and papooses, when they lay asleep by their camp-fires.

Arorara said he had been sent by his people to follow across the river, and punish them for their many crimes. His purpose in placing the guns as he had done, near the entrance of the lodge, was to tempt the boys to make a rush to escape.

When they did so, Arorara proposed that he and Wish-o-wa-tum should leap upon them with knives.

When this plan was fully explained to the chief, he nodded his head and signified that he would willingly lend his hand. It was a matter of indifference to him, and, but for the coming of the Shawanoe, he probably would have allow the boys to depart without harm. With Wish-o-wa-tum the whole question resolved itself into one of policy. He lived alone and had never been disturbed by the white settlers, who were locating in different parts of the territory. If he should help in the taking off of youngsters, their friends would not be likely to suspect him, and there was little probability of the truth ever reaching their ears.

But, if he refused the request of the guest, the fierce tribe to which he belonged would be sure to go out of their way to punish him. He therefore gave his assent, and added that he was ready do his part whenever Arorara wished.

It was at that juncture that the two red men essayed expression in English, and Deerfoot saw that he must interfere at once. While moving to the front of the lodge, he scanned his immediate surroundings, so far as he could, but neither saw nor heard anything of the other Shawanoe. In short, from what has already been told, it will be seen that it was impossible for him to be in that vicinity.

Throwing back the deerskin, the youthful warrior stepped quickly within the wigwam. His bow was flung over his back, and, being perfectly familiar with the interior, he extended his hand and caught up the weapon nearest him, standing erect and facing all the occupants as did Arorara a short time before. This movement and the entrance itself were made with such deftness that no one observed his presence, with the exception of Otto Relstaub, who by accident happened to look toward him just as he entered.

But the startling words of the German lad, accompanied by the extension of his arm and finger toward the door, turned every eye like a flash in that direction. They were just in time to catch a glimpse of the arms of Deerfoot, as they were raised like the flitting of the wings of a bird, and almost in the same breath the youth was seen to be looking along the gleaming barrel pointed the breast of the astounded warrior.

"Dog of a Shawanoe!" exclaimed Deerfoot, his voice as firm and unwavering as his nerves; "coward! Serpent that creeps in the grass and strikes the heel of the hunter; Arorara speaks with a double tongue; he says he took the scalp of Deerfoot, but the scalp of Deerfoot is here, and he dares Arorara and Waughtauk and Tecumseh and all the chiefs and sachems and warriors of the Shawanoes, to take it!"

The rifle, with the hammer drawn back, was flung to the ground, and whipping out his hunting knife, the youth grasped the handle with fingers of steel and assumed a defiant attitude. His face was aflame with passion, and his breast became a raging volcano of wrath.

In truth, Deerfoot had lost control of himself for the moment. An overwhelming sense of his persecution caused his nature to revolt, and he longed for the excuse to leap upon the Shawanoe who had followed him across the Mississippi. There was a single moment when he gathered his muscles for a tiger-like bound at his enemy, he was restrained only by the pitiful expression on the terrified countenance.

The youth addressed his words to Arorara and his blazing eyes were fixed on him. He had no quarrel with Wish-o-wa-tum and understood his position, but he would not have shrunk from an attack by both. Deerfoot knew that either was more powerful than he, but in cat-like agility there could be no comparison between them.

Man-not-Afraid-of-Thunder, however, showed very plainly that he held the invader of his lodge in great fear. He displayed visible emotion, when listening to the ringing words of defiance; but he possessed sense enough to perceive they were not addressed to him, and he continued to smoke his pipe in silence.

The squaw at the further end of the wigwam started, and with the pipe in her grasp, stared with a dazed expression at the daring intruder; then, like the true mother the world over, she leaned forward, caught up her sleeping infant and held him to her breast, ready to defend him with her life.

Arorara looked in turn straight into the burning countenance of Deerfoot. The elder warrior had unconsciously assumed an admirable pose, his left foot forward, his hand resting on the handle of his tomahawk, his whole position that of a gathering his strength for a tremendous leap. But though his fingers toyed with the weapon at his waist, they did not draw it forth; it was for that precise signal the youth