A SURPRISED FISHERMAN
It may be said that Deerfoot the Shawanoe never lost his senses
excepting when slumber stole them away. Young as he was, he had
been through some of the most terrific encounters the mind can
conceive, and yet, when he stood erect in the full glare of the
noonday sun, not a scratch or scar spoke of those fearful affrays in
the depth of the forest, among the hills and mountains and along the
Shores of the rivers of Kentucky and Ohio.
I have said that he was so hated by his own people that he felt his
presence near the settlements to the eastward was more to the
disadvantage than the help of his friends, and that was one of the
causes which led him to bid adieu forever to his friends.
It has been intimated also that still another reason actuated him,
and that reason shall appear in due time.
When Deerfoot assured Jack Carleton and Otto Relstaub that they
might slumber in peace, he spoke the truth; it has been shown that
not the first breath of danger touched them during the darkness, and
the morning meal was partaken in the same enjoyable fashion.
But before the subtle young Shawanoe reached the spot where he left
his canoe, he was disturbed by discovering the imprint of moccasins
along shore. They led away from his friends and toward the canoe.
A few minutes showed the latter had "received" some visitors since
its owner left it.
It was utterly destroyed. The knives and tomahawks of several,
warriors had hacked be bark structure to pieces. Even the paddle
had been broken into a half dozen parts. Nothing was left of which
use could be made, the blanket of the owner of course being absent.
Deerfoot looked on the wreck with something like dismay, which
speedily turned to anger. The wantonness of the act roiled his
feelings and stirred up the "old Indian" in his nature.
He surveyed the destruction for a minute or two, and then made a
careful examination of the signs the perpetrators could not avoid
leaving behind them.
There had been three Indiana engaged in the mischief, and the first
supposition of Deerfoot was that they were the Shawanoes whom Jack
Carleton saw the day previous; but a few minutes' study of the
footprints betrayed a certain peculiarity (a slight turning outward
of the left foot so slight, indeed, as almost to be imperceptible),
which identified them as Miamis. Deerfoot had noticed the "sign
manual" years before, so there was no room for mistake on his part.
The party had come down from the northward, most likely with other
warriors, and had stumbled by mere chance upon the partially hidden
canoe. They probably investigated matters enough to learn that it
was in charge of two white persons and one red one--enough to
satisfy them that the single Indian was friendly to the settlers,
and therefore one to be despised and harried in every way possible.
It was that discovery which undoubtedly caused them to destroy the
property and steal the blanket. They were not enough interested to
seek the lives of the others, though it may be they were restrained
by fear from doing so.
When Deerfoot came back to the boys, he purposely displayed some
excitement in order to amuse them. He quickly explained what he had
learned, and then, in the most indifferent voice and manner, said
"The Miamis shall pay Deerfoot for his canoe."
"How will you make them do that?" asked Jack, who noticed the
peculiar sparkle which the friends of the warrior always observed
when his feelings were stirred.
"I doesn't not believes dot you and dem cannot agrees mit de price,"
said Otto; "derefore you sends for me and I tells you what de price
ain't, and if dey don't agrees, den I knocks 'em ober de head--don't
it?"
"Deerfoot will not need his brother," said the Indian, gravely; "but
he asks his brothers to wait till he comes back."
"We'll do that," said Jack; "that is, as long as there is a prospect
of your return. When shall we expect you?"
"Deerfoot will be with his brothers before the sun reaches yonder."
He pointed to the place in the sky which the orb would touch about
the middle of the afternoon. Then, warning the two to be very
careful, and to keep continual watch against detection, he moved
away, vanishing from sight in the woods behind them, instead of
keeping close to the shore.
He wept to the southward until he once more reached the spot which
contained the remains of his canoe. He spent another minute in
grimly surveying the ruins, and then, glancing down at the
footprints, followed their direction. He had determined to call the
scamps to account for the injury done him.
As they belonged to the Miami tribe, it was quite likely they had a
boat with them, though their hunting-grounds were east of the
Mississippi, and possibly they had other property upon which the
offended Shawanoe meant to levy.
He followed the trail for nearly a furlong, when it divided; two of
the warriors turned to the left and went deeper into the woods,
while the third continued down stream in the same general direction
as before.
The sagacious Shawanoe suspected the truth; the single Indian had
gone to look after a canoe or something which lay close to the
river, while the others were about to engage in a hunt of so kind.
The discovery pleased Deerfoot; for, beside indicating that there
was a boat for him to take it showed that he had but a single red
man to meet.
Within less than a hundred yards this solitary warrior was found. A
large canoe, evidently belonging to the three warriors, or possibly
a larger party, lay against the bank, with one end on the land,
while the other projected several yards into the river. In the
stern sat an Indian, after the fashion of a civilized man; he was
astride of the end, his moccasins banging over, one on either side,
his back toward shore, while he leaned forward and sleepily watched
a fish-line, one end of which rested in his hand, while the other
was far out in the Mississippi.
His attitude was as lazy and contented as though he were a white
man. It looked as if he had chosen the sport while his companions
were off on a hunt that required more effort and exertion.
Deerfoot stood only a few seconds, when he smiled more fully than he
had done for along time. He saw his opportunity, and he proceeded
straightway to "improve" it.
He stole forward, as quietly as a shadow, until he had gone the few
yards intervening. All that he feared was that the aboriginal
fisherman might obtain a bite before the boat was reached. If he
could catch a fish on his bone hook, he would be likely to fling him
into the canoe behind him and to turn himself around.
From the moment Deerfoot placed eyes on the motionless figure, he
felt he was master of the situation; but, with his usual quickness,
he had formed his plan and was desirous of carrying it out in spirit
and in letter.
Reaching the canoe, he laid his long bow on the ground beside it;
then, stooping over, he seized the gunwale with both hands and,
quickly as the blow of a panther, he jerked the craft slightly more
than a foot further up the bank.
The result was inevitable. The astonished Miami sprawled forward
from his seat and went down into the muddy Mississippi out of sight,
doubtless frightening away the fish that was nibbling at his bait.
"Hooh!" he groaned, ejecting the water from his mouth as he came to
view, and following it with an expression much in the nature of an
expletive.
Only a couple of strokes were needed to bring him into the shallow
water, when he rose to his feet and walked out upon dry land. Up to
that moment he did not know the cause of his mishap, for the author
stooped down on the upper side of the craft; but as the Miami
stepped out, Deerfoot rose to his full height, with his keen
tomahawk grasped in his left hand--that being his best one.
The dripping warrior, to put it mildly, was astonished, when he
found himself confronted by the stranger. He stood staring and
speechless, while the mouth of Deerfoot again expanded.
"Does my brother's heart grow weary that he seeks to urge the fish
to bite his hook before they are ready?" asked the Shawanoe in the
Miami tongue.
It was all clear to the victim, and, when he understood the trick
that had been played upon him, his anger showed through the paint
daubed on his face.
"The Shawanoe is a fool," he replied. "His heart is filled with joy
when he acts like a papoose."
"But he will now act like a warrior," said Deerfoot, in a sterner
manner. "The dogs of the Miamis broke the canoe of the Shawanoe and
stole his blanket."
"The Shawanoe is the friend of the white man," said the other with a
sneer, though not without some misgiving, for, to use the language
of the West, the young warrior "had the drop on him." He had only
to make one movement in order to drive the glittering weapon through
the skull of the Miami, as though it were mere card-board.
It must be confessed that he looked very much as if such was his
intention.
"Deerfoot is the friend of the white man," repeated the Shawanoe;
"he hoped to paddle them across the great river. The Miami dogs
have broken his canoe, so Deerfoot will take their boat."
The warrior showed that he was astounded by the daring of the youth.
Within the canoe lay the blanket of Deerfoot, beside the rifle;
powder-horn, and bullet pouch, doubtless owned by the moist
fisherman. The latter looked at his property as if he could not
believe any one would dare molest that; but Deerfoot settled the
question in his terse fashion.
"Let the dog of a Miami seat himself on the ground like a squaw, and
watch his Shawanoe master while he takes the canoe and all that it
holds."
The Miami stared at his conqueror as if uncertain whether he had
heard aright. The conqueror enlightened him.
"The dog of a Miami longs to go to the happy hunting-grounds of his
fathers."
As he uttered the words, he quickly feinted with the hand grasping
the tomahawk. The warrior made such a sudden start to obey that his
moccasins slipped on the wetter earth, his feet spread apart, as
though he were learning to skate, and he sat down with such a sudden
bump that it forced a grunt from him. He hastily scrambled up, and,
with a frightened glance over his shoulder, sprang forward and sat
down again, though the last time was according to instructions.
It required all the self-restraint of Deerfoot to suppress his mirth
over the ridiculous performance of his captive, if such he may be
called. When, the Miami seated himself with a grotesque effort at
dignity, the Shawanoe placed his bow in the front of the canoe and
then shoved the boat into the stream.
As it shot from the shore, he leaped in, and caught up one of the
long three paddles with which it was navigated. Dipping it beneath
the surface he made one prodigious sweep, which drove the craft
swiftly ahead.
While thus employed the Miami faithfully obeyed orders. He sat
immobile and silent, watching the daring young warrior making off
not only with his private property, but with that which belonged to
others.
The Miami must have thought to himself more than once--"Ah, if my
comrades would only appear at this moment! They would make you
change your tune very soon."
All at once the warrior uttered a whoop which plainly was meant as a
signal to his friends. Instantly Deerfoot laid down his paddle,
and, catching up the gun, pointed it at the redskin. The latter, in
the extremity of his terror, turned a somersault backwards, and
tumbled and scrambled into the woods, desperately striving to get
beyond sight of the terrible youth who showed such recklessness in
handling weapons.
No doubt the Miami believed his escape was a narrow one, when, the
next instant, the rifle was discharged and the bullet cut through
the leaves near his face.
And so, in truth, his escape was very narrow, but it was just as
narrow as Deerfoot chose to make it. He had not the remotest
intention of injuring the Miami.