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.