THE TRAIL NORTHWARD.
The small lake which was the destination of Deerfoot seemed to be only
two or three miles distant, but he knew it was all of twenty miles
away. Being on foot, he took the most direct course. The route of the
horses was of necessity so tortuous and difficult that it must have
been fully a half greater than the direct one. The task was so easy for
the Shawanoe that he did not lope or run, but kept up his swinging
gait, which caused him not the least fatigue. Now and then he was
forced to make a circuit around a mass of rocks, or a densely wooded
section, but these diversions were of little account. They might have
been twice as extensive and still he would not have minded them.
When near the body of water he climbed another ridge, upon whose crest
the growth of wood was slight, and took a sweeping survey of the
surrounding country. The scenery was magnificent and impressive. Far to
the northward rose a towering range of mountains, whose snowy peaks
pierced the sky and suggested enormous white clouds piled against the
horizon. To the west rose another range, one of whose summits was
loftier than any within his range of vision. Seen in the far distance,
the soft air gave it a slight bluish tint, which gradually dissolved
into fleecy whiteness toward the crest. To the eastward the landscape
was made up of ridges, elevations and valleys, with growths of pine,
cedar, oak and other species of wood. The lake's outlet was toward the
west, winding in and out among the depressions until a curve hid it
from sight fully a score of miles away.
There was a biting sharpness in the air that told of the nearness of
winter, for the month of November was come, and in that northern
latitude the rigorous season would soon set in. A whiff of air which
fanned the face of the Indian brought the chill of snow and ice in it,
while here and there the leaves of some of the deciduous trees drifted
downward like the soft falling flakes of snow.
Deerfoot raised the glass to his eyes and slowly swept the field of
vision. It was a striking proof of the solitude of this immense region
that he did not see the first sign of a human being. No horsemen riding
across the open spaces or climbing the wooded heights formed a part of
the picture, nor in any direction could he detect the faint smoke of a
camp fire. Wherever the Nez Perces whom he was pursuing might be, they
were still a long distance away.
But the diversified landscape did not lack animal life. The most
interesting sight was that of two grizzly bears, that were frolicking
like a couple of puppies in an open space at the foot of a slight
elevation. Deerfoot held the glass pointed at them for some minutes and
more than once smiled at the odd picture. The great hulking brutes
tumbled, rolled, pawed and boxed each other, all the while pretending
to bite and yet taking care that neither tooth nor nail did harm. Then
one would start to run off, as if frightened, with the other in hot
pursuit. When overtaken, and sometimes before, the fugitive would wheel
and cuff and bite at the other, as if in a dreadful rage. You know how
amusing the antics of kittens and puppies are. Imagine, if you can, two
enormous bears disporting themselves in the same comical fashion, and
you will understand why the Shawanoe watched the couple minute after
minute, forgetting for the time the serious business on which he was
engaged.
But this was not all that attracted him in his surroundings. From out
the undergrowth on the northern side of the stream forming the outlet
of the lake came two or three hundred buffaloes, their dusky bodies
imparting a strange appearance of agitation to that portion of the
landscape. They headed for the stream, which was no more than a hundred
feet in width, and plunged in, pausing long enough to drink, flirting
their tails and tossing their heads, bellowing and crowding one
another. The water was too shallow to force them to swim, but it was
splashed and flung in all directions. When those at the front emerged
they broke into a gallop, with the others dashing tumultuously after
them.
Their course brought them within a few rods of the base of the
elevation on which Deerfoot was standing. He walked down the slope
until quite near the head of the herd, when he brought his rifle to his
shoulder and sent a bullet just back of the foreleg of one of the
bulls. The stricken beast made a single plunging dive and then rolled
over dead. Being on the fringe of the herd he was not trampled upon,
and none of his companions paid any attention to him. The bison is--or
rather _was_--a stupid creature, his own destruction often resulting
from his lack of ordinary intelligence.
Deerfoot waited until the last animal had passed, when he went forward
to where the carcass of the game lay and deftly extracted its tongue.
He did not touch any other portion, but, washing the delicacy in the
stream, carried it to the small grove of trees which he had fixed upon
in his mind as the place of the encampment of the Nez Perces, on their
first day after leaving their village.
Before he reached the shelter of the clump of trees the quick eye of
the Shawanoe saw the imprints of hoofs, and signs of a party of
horsemen having halted at the spot. Chief Amokeat and his Nez Perces
had made their first meal on fish drawn from the lake, as was shown by
the fragments of their feast scattered round. Considerable ashes
indicated the spot where a fire had been kindled, in the usual
primitive manner of spinning a light pointed stick, whose sharpened end
was thrust into another dry branch.
Thus Deerfoot's calculations proved to be right. He had reached the
scene of the midday halt of the Nez Perces by traveling about
two-thirds of the distance of his predecessors. With his flint and
steel he soon had a blaze going. Over it he broiled the bison tongue,
cut into thin strips, and ate his fill. The meal was a big one for him,
and he would not go out of his way to procure any more food for
twenty-four hours or more. Taking a long draught from the cold,
crystalline waters, he resumed his journey, which was due north, his
blanket fastened about his shoulders, and his rifle sometimes resting
in the crook made by bending his left arm at the elbow, after the style
of modern sportsmen, held sometimes in a trailing position, and again
reposing upon his shoulder.
For two miles or more he kept to the trail, inasmuch as it was direct
and nothing was to be gained by leaving it. With his senses alert, he
finally turned to the right, in order to take advantage of a mass of
rocks on ground so elevated that a more extensive view than the former
one could be secured. He climbed as nimbly as a monkey to the top,
glanced over the many square miles spread out before his gaze and then
looked northward.
Ah! he saw something suggestive. The glass was pointed toward the spot
and instantly confirmed the unaided eye. In the horizon, in the mist of
a stretch of wooded country, he observed a faint, almost invisible line
of vapor climbing upward into the cold blue sky, and gradually
dissolving, until at the height of a hundred feet or less all trace of
it vanished.
The most careful scrutiny could not tell anything more. The spot was
between fifteen and twenty miles away, with the roughest sort of
country intervening. It was a good day's journey distant, but in the
same moment that Deerfoot made his interesting discovery he resolved to
thread his way to the place without a minute's halt on his part until
he reached his destination.
His quick mind instantly saw several explanations of the "sign." It
could not be the Nez Perces riding north, for it was impossible that
they had lagged to such an extent on the road. If it was Amokeat and
his party, they must be returning from their raid, or hunting
expedition, or whatever had engaged their energies. It would seem more
likely that the Indians belonged to some other tribe. Be that as it
may, the only means of answering the question was by finding out for
himself, and that Deerfoot started to do with the grim, unshakable
resolution of his nature.
With all his matchless swiftness and endurance, he would not have been
able to travel the distance until the night was well advanced; for,
though there were numerous places where he broke into his fleet lope,
and more than once rose to a higher pace, he was compelled to make
detours that greatly lengthened the distance and added to the labor.
Again, a moderate walk was the best he could do.
About the middle of the afternoon he came upon the bank of a deep,
swift stream fully a hundred yards wide. No doubt he could have found a
ford had he taken the time to search for it, but the minutes were too
valuable to waste. With hardly a moment's hesitation he took three
steps over the flinty floor, and then found he had to swim. He had not
so much as loosened the blanket looped about his shoulders and which
threatened to interfere with the movements of his arms. He held his
rifle above his head, so as to prevent any water running into the
barrel, either at the muzzle or by percolation at the vent, and swam
with his other arm and his feet. For a portion of the way he "trod
water," apparently with the same ease that he walked upon solid earth.
So he overcame the powerful current and emerged almost directly
opposite the point where he had entered. You will remember that in
approaching the stream he left the trail some time before, but he knew
it was not far off, and doubtless would have led him to a ford. That he
would not dally long enough to hunt out the more convenient crossing
place was another illustration of Deerfoot's indifference to his own
comfort. What though his garments were dripping when he stepped upon
solid earth again, and the air was almost wintry in its chill, he cared
naught. The exercise threw his frame into a glow and the moisture
gradually left his clothing.
A few miles farther and the Shawanoe solved one question over which he
had been speculating. In the distance he caught sight of a party of
horsemen approaching from the direction of the camp whose smoke he had
noticed hours before. They were no more than two or three miles
distant, and when first seen were coming almost in a direct line for
Deerfoot.
The first sight was that of a single horseman, who had ridden up the
farther side of a slope, and came into view as he neared the top.
Without pausing, he began the descent, and was followed by others, all
in single file, until seventeen rode into the field of vision. Before
Deerfoot brought his glass into use he had recognized the horsemen as
Nez Perces. They were returning from their expedition, and if the
statement of the number that had left home was correct, had lost at
least three.
The spyglass disclosed the chieftain Amokeat to the Shawanoe, who, with
his horse on a walk, was riding at the head of the procession. The
instrument revealed another significant fact:
Neither Amokeat nor any of his warriors was mounted on Whirlwind.
Deerfoot had to struggle to restrain his indignation. Had he been
within reach of Amokeat at that moment, it is not unlikely he would
have dragged him from his horse and given him a lesson he could never
forget. The very thing the Shawanoe had feared from the first had
occurred: the stallion was either stolen or dead.
But as Deerfoot advanced to meet the party, who soon observed and
identified him, he pulled himself together. It would have taken one who
knew him intimately, like Simon Kenton, or George or Victor Shelton, to
read in the slightly pale face and peculiar gleam of the dark eyes the
evidence of the emotion that the Shawanoe held well under control.
It was in the depth of a broad valley, where there was a semblance to a
trail which had been made by bison or other animals on their way to
water, that Chief Amokeat drew up and awaited the approach of the
Shawanoe. The latter, as was his custom, made a half-military salute,
and, without any more preliminaries came to the point. He used the
Blackfoot tongue, which was familiar to the Nez Perce.
"Deerfoot seeks his horse. Where is he?"
Amokeat must have expected the question, for he shook his head and
answered in the language of the Blackfeet:
"Amokeat is grieved to tell Deerfoot he will never see the horse he
loves again. It saddens the heart of Amokeat, but he speaks with a
single tongue."
"Is my horse dead?"
"That Amokeat does not know. Yesterday the Assiniboines took him from
us, and they are now far on their way to their villages."
"Why did Amokeat take my horse from where Deerfoot had left him? Why
did he not wait until he could see Deerfoot and ask him. He has stolen
my horse."
This was a pointed charge, but Deerfoot could not wholly curb his
anger. The chief, however, did not seem to feel the sting of the words,
though more than one of his warriors, who had drawn up their horses and
were looking on and listening, showed resentment.
Amokeat now proceeded to tell in his own way what had befallen him and
his companions. He said they had started out for a hunt, though
expecting to have an encounter with some of their enemies before their
return. At a point about a hundred miles to the northeast, while riding
through a canyon, they were suddenly attacked by fully a hundred red
men, whom they recognized as Assiniboines that were a long way from
their hunting grounds.
While it is more than likely the Nez Perce leader exaggerated the
number of his assailants, no doubt they were superior to the smaller
company. The latter put up a brave fight, but before they could
extricate themselves from the trap five of their number were shot from
their horses. This statement showed that originally the Nez Perces
numbered more than a score.
Amokeat was on the back of Whirlwind, who carried him off with such
amazing speed that he was soon separated from his warriors. Deerfoot's
lips curled when he heard this statement, for to him it was a proof of
the cowardice of the chief. The party had no time to recover the bodies
of their fallen comrades, who were left to be scalped and despoiled by
the victors, the stray horses also passing into the hands of the
Assiniboines.
Amokeat was in full flight when, in dashing through a mass of
undergrowth, he suddenly came face to face with eight or ten
Assiniboines (probably the number was less). He was ambushed so
cleverly that escape was out of the question. He would have resisted,
however, had not one of his enemies called out that he wished to have a
parley with him.
This warrior, who was the leader of the little party, told Amokeat that
if he would swap the black stallion he rode for the pony of the
Assiniboines, the chief would not be harmed, but would be left free to
go to his own home. Had the grinning Nez Perce put his conclusion in
English, it would have been something like this:
"I counted myself most fortunate, for what was to prevent the
Assiniboines from shooting me from the back of the stallion and then
taking him away with them? So the trade was made and he is now in the
hands of the Assiniboines."