PURSUER AND PURSUED
When Deerfoot the Shawanoe encountered his enemy in the path and
turned over the rifle to him, he knew that his leniency toward his
implacable foe had not softened his heart in the least. He only
awaited the opportunity to turn like a rattlesnake on his
magnanimous master, and the youth therefore took particular care
that such opportunity should not be given him.
Deerfoot held his tomahawk tightly grasped and poised, determined to
hurl it with resistless and unerring aim on the very first move of
the warrior against him. He remained as rigid as bronze until the
other was a couple of rods distant. Then he noiselessly shoved back
the tomahawk in his girdle, picked up his bow and vanished like a
shadow. When the warrior turned, as the reader will recall, he saw
no one.
Deerfoot was confident that after such a meeting, the one whom he
had spared would not follow him. He would be glad enough to escape
altogether without arousing the wrath of him who would not show
mercy a second time. Nevertheless, the matchless youth sped along
the path in the gathering gloom, with that swiftness which earned
him his expressive name while he was yet a mere boy. No man,
American or Caucasian, could hold his own against him in his
phenomenal fleetness. He swept through the forest, never pausing,
but darting forward like a bird on the wing, that eludes by the
marvelous quickness of eye the labyrinth of limbs and obstructions
which interpose almost every second across his line of flight.
Not until he had sped fully a half mile did slacken in the slightest
his astonishing pace, and then there was not the least quickening of
the pulse or hastening of the gentle breath. Had chose, he could
have maintained the same for hours without discomfort or fatigue.
While, in one sense, Deerfoot was fleeing a Shawanoe, he was, in the
same sense, pursue another, in whom his chief interest centered.
The night deepened, and the moon, climbing above the tree tops,
penetrated the gloomy recesses in few places with its silvery beams.
When a mile had been passed, the young warrior paused and listened.
"He cannot follow me when his eyes see no trail," he said to
himself, alluding to the Shawanoe whom he had spared.
It followed as a corollary that the same difficulty confronted him
in pursuing his friends and the enemy who clung so close to their
footprints. He stopped and softly passed his hand over the leafy
ground. Not the slightest artificial depression was there; he had
lost the trail of the party.
As it was utterly out of the question to learn how far he had
diverged from the path, it was also beyond his power to return to
it--that is, so long as the night lasted. The hoof-prints of the
horse were cut so deep in the yielding earth that, with considerable
trouble, he could have traced them among the trees; but even then he
would lack the great help which the scout is generally able to
command. In following a trail at night, he needs to possess a
thorough knowledge of the country, so as to reason out the probable
destination of his enemies, and consequently the general route they
will take. More than likely they will aim for some crossing or
camping ground, many miles in advance. The knowledge of the hunter
may enable him to take a shorter course and, by 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.