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 was waiting.
While in this attitude, which might have been accepted as indicating
the most heroic courage, Deerfoot saw the lump or Adam's apple rise
sink in his throat, precisely as if he were to swallow something.
It was done twice, and was a sign of weakness on the part of
Arorara.
The consuming anger of Deerfoot burned out like a flash of powder.
Hatred became contempt; enmity turned to scorn, and the mortal peril
of the warrior vanished.
"Who now is the dog?" asked Deerfoot in English, with a curl of his
lip. "Arorara is brave when he stands before the youths who have no
weapons; he then speaks with the double tongue; he cannot utter the
truth. Arorara has his tomahawk and knife, Deerfoot has his; let
them fight and see whose scalp shall remain."
"Don't you do dot, old Roarer," exclaimed Otto Relstaub, stepping
forward in much excitement; "if you does, den you won't be old
Roarer not any more, as nefer vose-yaw! Dunderation!"
"Let them alone," commanded Jack Carleton, catching his arm and
drawing him back; "don't interfere."
"Don't you sees?" asked Otto, turning his head and speaking in a
whisper; "I want to scare old Roarer."
"There's no call for doing that, for he's so seared now he can't
speak; he won't fight Deerfoot."
Arorara possessed less courage than Tecumseh, who, when challenged
by Deerfoot in almost the same manner, would have fought him to the
death had not others interposed. The Shawanoe was now in mortal
terror of such an encounter.
"Deerfoot and Arorara are brothers," said he, swallowing again the
lump that rose in his throat; "they belong to the same totem; they
are Shawanoes; the Great Spirit would frown to see them harm each
other."
The words were spoken in Shawanoe, but Jack and Otto saw, from the
looks and manner of the elder warrior, that he was subdued and could
not be forced into a struggle with the lithe and willowy youth.
It was not flattering to the pride of the young Kentuckian and his
companion that while Arorara felt no fear of them jointly, he was
terrified by the bearing of Deerfoot, who voluntarily relinquished
the advantage he possessed in the hope that it would induce the
other to fight.
The abject words of Arorara caused a reaction in the feelings of
Deerfoot. His conscience condemned him for his outburst of passion,
and had the situation permitted, he would have prostrated himself in
prayer and begged the forgiveness of the Great Spirit whom he had
offended.
But nothing in his face or voice or manner betrayed the change.
He remained standing in front of the deerskin, which was thrown
back, so that the light from the camp-fire shone against the gloom
beyond; his left hand held the knife with the same rigid grasp, and
the limbs, which in the American Indian rarely show much muscular
development, were as drawn as steel.
The squaw clasped the sleeping infant to her husky bosom and glared
at Deerfoot, like a lioness at bay. Had he advanced to do harm to
her offspring, she would have sprang upon him with the fierceness of
that beast and defended the little one to the death. Had the youth
assailed Man-not-Afraid-of-Thunder, probably she would have sat an
interested spectator of the scene until it became clear which way it
was going, when she might have wrapped her baby in bison-skin,
placed him carefully away, and taken a part in the struggle.
The Osage resumed the deliberate puffing of his pipe, but glanced
from one face to the other of the two Shawanoes. Stolid and lazy as
he was, by nature and training, he could not help feeling stirred by
the curious scene.
Jack Carleton and Otto were on their feet, studying the two
countenances with equal intentness. Both were cheered by the
consciousness that danger no longer threatened them, and that
whatever followed must accord with the fact that Deerfoot the
Shawanoe was master of the situation.