COMRADES TRUE.
The picture upon which Deerfoot looked recalled many similar ones in
Ohio and Kentucky. There were six warriors seated on the ground, most
of the party in lolling postures, three smoking long-stemmed pipes, and
all had evidently partaken of food a short time before, for a faint
odor of broiling venison or bison meat was in the air, and the signs
within the camp showed that a meal had been prepared and eaten.
The burning sticks were piled against the base of a tree more than two
feet in diameter and were burning so vigorously that the circle of
light reached well beyond the group and pierced the shadows among the
pines and cedars. A brief survey of the group left no doubt that they
were awaiting the arrival of friends, as they had been doing for hours
past, and might continue to do through the remaining night.
There was no reason why the Shawanoe should lose any time in surveying
the Assiniboines, for he felt no interest in them. He was surprised to
note that every one had a rifle, none being armed with the primitive
bow and arrows. He tarried only long enough to decide in his mind who
was the leader, and therefore the new proprietor of Whirlwind. Deerfoot
had no special enmity against him, for it was Amokeat, the Nez Perce
chieftain, who was responsible for the loss of the stallion.
The Shawanoe had straightened up and was silently withdrawing from his
advanced position, holding the sheltering tree between him and the camp
fire, when he was startled by a whinny from some point in the gloom
close at hand. Turning his head he caught the dim outlines of Whirlwind
making his way among the trees toward him. The sagacious stallion,
through that wonderfully acute sense of smell which his species often
show, had discovered the proximity of his master and had set out to
find him. The space between the two was so brief that Deerfoot had
hardly paused and looked behind him when the silken nose of Whirlwind
was thrust against his face, and after his old fashion he touched his
tongue to the cool cheek of his master and then affectionately rested
his head on his shoulder.
It was a critical situation, for the steed had already warned the
Assiniboines that something unusual was going on, but the delight and
gratitude of the Shawanoe were so deep that he could not deny himself
the pleasure of caressing his steed. He touched his lips to his nose,
patted his forehead and neck and murmured:
"Whirlwind! Deerfoot's heart is thankful! He is happy, for he has found
his best friend. No one shall part us again!"
But in that joyful moment the delicate situation could not be
forgotten. Instead of leaping upon the back of the horse where the
trees and limbs would interfere with a rapid flight, in addition to
placing the rider at a disadvantage in case of attack, Deerfoot told
Whirlwind to pass out of the timber and wait for him. The horse
promptly obeyed, for he understood the whispered words. Then the youth
placed himself directly behind the horse, ready to fight off any and
all assailants, and followed the steed, thus forming his rear guard.
Between Deerfoot and the camp fire loomed the form of an Assiniboine
warrior. His sensitive ear had heard the soft neigh, and even the low
voice of Deerfoot. He knew that a thief was in the grove--he must have
thought he was a Nez Perce--and was making off with Whirlwind, who was
held in higher esteem than all the other horses together.
The Shawanoe saw that a fight was inevitable. He passed his rifle to
the right hand, over whose arm his blanket was resting, and drew his
hunting knife. Even in that crisis the chivalry of the Shawanoe would
not allow him to take full advantage of the situation. He could have
struck down his enemy without the least risk to himself. He chose
rather to give his antagonist warning.
"Dog of an Assiniboine!" he muttered in the Blackfoot tongue. "The
Shawanoe fears you not!"
The warrior leaped forward like a crouching tiger. He had caught sight
of the lithe form in the faint glow of the firelight, and he assailed
it with all the vicious vigor of his nature. The lightning-like blow of
his knife made a hissing sound as it cut the air and buried its point
in the blanket which Deerfoot thrust forward to receive it. Then the
Shawanoe delivered _his_ blow. Enough said.
Brief as was the terrific encounter, it occurred too close to camp for
the other Assiniboines to remain in doubt for a moment. Moreover, when
the victim of the Shawanoe's prowess went down not to rise again he
uttered an ear-splitting screech which echoed through the grove.
Deerfoot turned and ran among the trees after Whirlwind. From some
cause the stallion had changed his direction and was waiting on the
edge of the wood several rods from where his master emerged. The latter
glanced hastily around in the gloom without seeing him. He uttered a
low signal which the horse instantly obeyed, and with another neigh of
delight trotted to his master.
Deerfoot was about to vault upon his back, but hesitated. The sounds
indicated that the whole five Assiniboines had rushed to the spot and
were already within arm's reach of master and stallion. They would be
so near when Whirlwind made his dash that they would fire a volley
which was certain to kill one or the other, and not unlikely both rider
and animal.
Nor could anything be gained by turning at bay and fighting the whole
five, though the Shawanoe would not have hesitated to do that had no
other recourse been left to him. With that quick perception which
approached the marvelous in him he ordered Whirlwind to gallop along
the side of the timber and again wait for him. Then Deerfoot dived
among the trees as if in fear of the fierce warriors closing in upon
him. His aim was to draw the attention of the party from the stallion
to himself, and he succeeded.
For three or four minutes he dodged in and out, where in the gloom he
could not escape more than one collision with the limbs. The whole
party plunged after him. They knew that the audacious stranger had
slain one of their number and were determined he should not escape
their vengeance, for with him disposed of the black stallion could be
recovered at leisure.
All the time that Deerfoot was whisking here and there, leaping to the
right and left, and getting forward as fast as he could, he held his
knife grasped and ready to use on the instant the emergency arose. He
was so handicapped by the obstructions and the darkness that he could
do little more than hold his own. His enemies were too near for him to
hide himself from them. Had he attempted to do so the whole lot would
have descended upon him like an avalanche.
There was no chance to select his route; all he could do was to drive
ahead and avoid being driven at bay. He took care not to pass near the
fire, where the glow would have betrayed him. He feared his foes would
shoot, though everything was so obscured that they were likely to wait
in the hope of capturing him or gaining a fairer aim.
A faint lighting up in front showed that he was nearing the edge of the
wood. Two bounds carried him clear, and then, with the utmost speed of
which he was capable, he ran along the margin to a slight turn in the
conformation of the grove, when he leaped out into the open air and was
off with as great fleetness as he displayed on the home-stretch in his
race with Ralph Genther, after the turkey shoot at Woodvale.
By his dodging and trickery he had gained an important start, but not
enough to put him beyond sight of the Assiniboines, who debouched from
the timber at the moment the form of the Shawanoe was fast dissolving
in the gloom. They were fleet of foot, and in the belief that they
could speedily run the fugitive to earth they made after him. Hardly
had the singular race opened when the astounded pursuers saw no
fugitive before them! He had been swallowed up in the darkness like an
arrow launched from a powerful bow. The Assiniboines must have come to
the belief that whoever the stranger was he knew how to run. You and I
came to that belief long ago.
One of the chagrined pursuers fired in the direction of the flying
fugitive. The bullet probably passed within fifty feet of him,
certainly not near enough for Deerfoot to hear the whistle of the
missile.
The Shawanoe was too wise to maintain his flight in a direct line, for
there was no saying how long his enemies would hunt for him. He made a
wide detour to the right and passed around the head of the lake, moving
as silently as a shadow and issuing no call to Whirlwind to join him.
Reaching the point he had in mind he stopped, peered around in the
gloom and carefully located himself. Then he placed his thumb and
forefinger between his teeth and pierced the stillness with that
peculiar whistle which could have been heard a mile away.
Meanwhile, if we can believe that animals are capable of reasoning,
Whirlwind must have had some uncomfortable thoughts. He was listening
for the next orders of his master and could make nothing of the tumult
going on near him. He would have been eager to lend a helping hand, or,
rather, hoof, but did not know how to lend it. He might make matters
worse by the attempt. He had received his commands and it only remained
for him to obey them.
While thus waiting, the Assiniboine leader--he who claimed him as his
particular property--assumed form in the starlight and drew near.
Whirlwind snuffed suspiciously. He could not understand matters, but he
had seen his master and comrade and resented any impertinence from
others.
The Assiniboine hurried up and extended one hand to grasp the forelock
of the stallion, in order to lead him back to his place on the other
side of the camp. At that moment the signal of Deerfoot rang out.
Perhaps the Assiniboine suspected the meaning of the call, for he
darted forward and seized the forelock. Whirlwind instantly reared, and
with a single blow of his hoof knocked the red man senseless. He did
not kill him, but it is safe to conclude that when the Assiniboine
regained his senses he knew a good deal more than he ever knew before.
The waiting Shawanoe heard the sound of hoofs, and a minute later saw
the form of the stallion as he galloped up and paused with his nose
thrust forward, asking for another caress.
He received it and in his mute way expressed his own pleasure at being
with his master again. The danger was not yet over, and the Shawanoe
deferred further petting until the opportunity was more fitting.
Resting one hand upon the neck of the stallion he leaped lightly
astride of him, still keeping the blanket about his own shoulders, for
the night was keen and the horse did not need the protection.
Whirlwind yearned to stretch his limbs and speed away with his master
on his back. But it would have been unsafe. After leaving the vicinity
of the lake the country was rough, and in the darkness the
surest-footed horse was liable to fall. Moreover, there was no need of
haste.
So the stallion passed out into the night at his usual graceful walk,
while his rider for the time listened and peered into the darkness
behind him for sound or sight of the Assiniboines who would have given
much for a chance to revenge themselves upon the daring youth that had
outwitted them.
At the end of half an hour Deerfoot slipped from the back of his steed
and pressed his ear to the earth. If the Assiniboines were following
and were near he would learn the fact through this better conductor of
sound. He heard nothing and once more vaulted upon Whirlwind.
Relieved for the time of all cause for fear, Deerfoot now gave grateful
attention to the proud stallion that was bearing him southward. He
first tested his recollection of the words of command which he had
taught him, and which you will remember were in a peculiar language
known only to the two. Whirlwind proved his excellent memory by
promptly responding to every order addressed to him. Then the Shawanoe
guided him by pressure of his knees, and by a certain manner of
striking the heels of his moccasins against his sides. The result could
not have been more satisfactory.
"Whirlwind is a bad horse," said Deerfoot, feeling that it was time to
have a little sport with him. "He ran away from Deerfoot on purpose. If
he had had any sense he would have left the Assiniboines and set out to
find Deerfoot instead of making Deerfoot travel so far to find him."
It would be absurd to pretend that a horse, even with the rare
intelligence of Whirlwind, could grasp the meaning of these words.
However, he understood the sharp pinch which his master gave him on the
side of his neck, followed by a brisk slap with his hand. The stallion
reached his head around and nipped at the leg of Deerfoot, who drew it
back and flipped the nose of the animal.
Then Whirlwind flung his head around his other shoulder and snapped at
the leg on that side, which was hardly snatched out of the way in time
to escape. Deerfoot gently smote the nose to remind the steed that with
all his strength and wisdom the youth was still his master. Thus they
parried and played and plagued each other until Deerfoot, with that
curious refinement of cruelty which we often show to those we love
most, pretended to be offended.
"If Whirlwind wishes to bite Deerfoot he may do so."
And to show he meant what he said he reached forward and placed his
hand between the lips of the horse. The latter instantly opened his
jaws, so as to inclose the hand with his teeth. A slight effort would
have crushed the fingers out of all semblance of symmetry and beauty.
Whirlwind did bring his jaws nearly together, but took good care that
the pressure was not sufficient to harm a fly.
Deerfoot's heart smoke him. He could not stand this cruelty to as true
a friend as ever lived. Resting his rifle across his thighs, so as to
leave his hands free, he leaned forward, and, inclosing the satin neck
in his grasp, gave the noble creature as fervent an embrace as wooer
ever gave to sweetheart.
"Deerfoot loves Whirlwind, and his heart would have been sad all his
life if he had not found him. None shall take him away from Deerfoot
again. Deerfoot knows that we shall meet in that land that our Father
is saving for those who do His will, and then Deerfoot and Whirlwind
shall hunt and roam the forests and prairies forever."
If the meaning of the words was vague to the stallion, he could not
mistake the meaning of the embrace and the reposing of the side of the
Shawanoe's face in the luxuriant mane. He was fully repaid for the
indignities he had suffered and the grief that had come to him because
of the separation of the two. Had Whirlwind been able to put his ideas
in words it is conceivable that he would have reproached the Shawanoe
for deserting and leaving him among strangers. Had he not done so, no
search with its attendant dangers would have been forced upon the
youth.
And had this rebuke been given to Deerfoot, surely he would have
admitted the justice of the charge, for we know how he reproached
himself for his conduct. But we blame others for ills which we know are
caused by ourselves, and we chide unjustly those whom we love most,
knowing all the time how unjust we are, and that if we loved less the
reproof would not be given at all.