JACK HALLOWAY AGAIN.
The man was quick-witted. The words and the frenzied gestures told a
story which he understood. Standing close to the edge of the stream, he
peered into it and caught sight of a white face, loosely flapping limbs
and the helpless drift of a human being, borne toward him with the
speed of a race horse. The top of the bank was so near the surface that
the man dropped on his face, so as to be able to reach forward and
downward to the foaming torrent.
He saw the body coming, and braced himself for the herculean effort
that would be necessary in the next breath. Reaching so far that he was
in danger of losing his own balance, he coolly awaited the critical
moment. Then his big hand closed like the paw of a grizzly bear on the
shoulder of Victor Shelton. A tremendous wrench and he was dragged out
and dropped limp and senseless at the feet of his rescuer.
George Shelton saw this much, and, hardly knowing what he was doing,
made a desperate effort to leap the chasm, that he might join the
couple. But his foot slipped, too, and only by a superhuman effort did
he save himself from tumbling into the swirling wrath of water.
Scrambling to his feet, he sped downward to Victor and the stranger.
The latter showed his coolness by getting to work without the least
delay. Victor was senseless and had swallowed a good deal of water. He
seemed to be drowned.
The man held him by the heels and was standing him on his head. Then he
rolled him over and pressed his chest, with that oscillation which is
helpful in restoring seemingly drowned persons, while the breathless
George stood idly by watching everything with straining eyes. He could
do nothing but pray and hope.
At the end of a minute or two he saw, with joy unspeakable, the signs
of returning life. Victor was on his back, as if dead, when he partly
opened his eyes; but there was no expression in them. His rescuer was
scrutinizing the lad's face and noted the awakening of consciousness.
Straightening up, he said with a sigh:
"He's all right now; but he couldn't have come nigher pegging out."
"You have saved him! You have saved him! Oh, how can I thank you?"
And yielding to the reaction, George sobbed like a child. The stranger
looked at him without speaking, and gave his attention again to the
prostrate form. Victor speedily regained his senses, and, with a little
help from the man, sat up. He stared wonderingly at his new friend and
then at his brother, striving manfully to master his emotions. With the
waggery that cropped up at the most unexpected times, he turned to
George with the question:
"Are you crying because he saved my life?"
"I'm crying for joy. I had given up all hope."
"So had I. I tell you I came pretty near being a goner. Please help me
up."
George took his hand and almost lifted Victor to his feet. As he came
up he made a grimace, because of the pain that wrenched him. He was so
battered and bruised that the wonder was that several bones had not
been broken.
"Where's my rifle?" suddenly asked Victor, looking about him.
"In the bottom of the canyon, I reckon."
"Mebbe you'd like to make a dive for it," suggested the man.
"No, I've had enough of that. How shall I thank you for what you have
done?"
"By not saying anything about it. By a piece of good luck I happened to
be on the spot in time to give you a lift."
The boys now looked more closely at the Good Samaritan. He was attired
in the dress common among the trappers and hunters of the Northwest in
those days, and was a magnificent specimen of physical manhood, being
fully six feet in height, with a broad, massive frame and an immense
grizzled beard, which flowed over his chest and covered his face almost
to the eyes. He had laid down his long, formidable rifle when he
hurried to the rescue of the boy, and he now stooped and picked up the
weapon. Moving back a few paces, so as to get beyond the noise made by
the rushing waters, he said, in his gruff but not unpleasant voice:
"Tell me how this thing happened."
George briefly gave the particulars of the mishap, to which the man
silently listened.
"You ain't the only younker or man either who has lost all by a little
slip. The next time you want to make a big jump be sure of your
footing. What are you two chaps doing in this part of the world?"
"We have been across the continent, almost to the Pacific, and are now
on the way to our home in Ohio."
"You ain't traveling alone, are you?"
"No; we have a companion, who is off somewhere in the mountains, but
will soon join us in camp."
"'Pears to me you've been on a powerful long tramp."
"We have. We spent last winter among the Blackfeet, and are homesick."
"I reckon your camp ain't fur off, and we may as well go there."
"We shall be glad to have you with us, for you have proved the best of
friends."
"Thar! Thar! Drop that; talk about something else."
When Victor tried to walk he had to lean on the shoulder of his
brother, and the pain from his bruises compelled him at times to stop
and rest. The burly trapper offered to help, but Victor thanked him and
got on quite well with the assistance of George. The man walked a few
paces behind the two, that he might not hurry them too much, and
because it belonged to the boys to act as guide.
"Who is the man you've got with you?"
"He is a young Shawanoe Indian named Deerfoot," replied George Shelton.
"What!" exclaimed the trapper, stopping as if shot. "Do you mean that
handsome young warrior who went through the country below us last
summer with a Blackfoot redskin and two younkers?"
"The same. We are the boys that were with him."
"Wal, I'll be skulped!" added the other, as if he could not do justice
to his feelings. "I never dreamed of anything like _that_."
"Like what?" asked George.
"Seeing that Shawanoe agin. Say, he's a great one, ain't he?"
"You know him, then?"
"Wal, I reckon. He done me the greatest favor of my life--greater than
what I done that chap of yourn a little while ago."
"I don't see how that can be," remarked the limping Victor; "but
Deerfoot is always doing good to others."
"Didn't he ever tell you anything about me?"
"You haven't told us your name."
"I'm Jack Halloway."
The boys agreed that they had never heard the Shawanoe mention him by
name. Victor added:
"He is the last one to speak of his good deeds, and he doesn't like to
hear anyone else speak of them."
"He'll hear some one talk when I see him," chuckled the trapper, with a
shaking of his herculean shoulders.
Because of Victor's hurts the descent among the foothills to camp took
a long time, and the afternoon was well gone when the three reached
headquarters. While a little way off the three caught sight of the
Shawanoe, who had started a fire and was broiling buffalo steak for
supper. He looked with surprise at the sight of Victor leaning on the
shoulder of his brother and walking with difficulty, and at the
towering form behind them. Ceasing his work, he came forward to greet
the party. He paid no attention to the man until George Shelton told of
the mishap in which the life of Victor was saved by the person behind
them.
During this brief interchange the trapper kept in the background, with
his eyes on the Shawanoe. Needless to say, Deerfoot had recognized him
at the first glance. Not suspecting this, the man now came forward, the
moving of the beard about his mouth showing that he was grinning and
chuckling.
"I reckon you don't remember me, Deerfoot."
"Deerfoot could never forget his brother, Jack Halloway," replied the
youth, extending his hand, which was warmly grasped by the trapper.
"I'm powerful glad to meet you agin, Shawanoe, though I hadn't much
hope of ever doing so. Talk about friends, you beat 'em all, and I'll
be skulped if you don't look handsomer than ever--no you don't, for
that couldn't be. Shake agin, pardner."
Deerfoot was as pleased to meet his old acquaintance as the latter was
to see him. All seated themselves on the ground about the blaze, and as
night had not yet come the meal was deferred until more was learned of
what had taken place during the interval between the former meeting and
the present coming together.
"Why is my brother in the mountains at this season of the year?" asked
Deerfoot, when the trapper had lit his pipe.
Of course cold weather is the time for trapping fur-bearing animals.
The custom in the olden days was for the hunters to go into the
mountains in the autumn, spend the time until spring in gathering
peltries, and then bring them to civilization for sale. It was now
summer, and it was not to be supposed that Jack Halloway was engaged on
professional business in the Laramie Mountains. He explained:
"Last fall I took a partner--Dick Burley by name--and we put in the
winter among the beaver runs and mountains over to the northwest. We
done so poor that I let Dick start with the pack animals for St. Louis,
without me going with him. He hadn't more than half a load, and we made
up our minds that we'd got to find new trapping grounds or we shouldn't
make enough to pay for our salt. So me and Dick parted and I've been on
the tramp for two months."
"How did you make out?" asked Victor, who, having found an easy
position for his aching body, felt it his duty to join in the
discussion.
"I hit it when I came to this part of the country. A few miles south
are hundreds of beaver, foxes, otter and other critters whose furs
we're after. I don't think a single one of 'em has ever been trapped.
There's where me and Dick will try it next fall."
"Then you will soon go home?"
"I intended to start to-morrow. My horse is a little way back among the
foothills, stuffing himself with enough grass to last him a week."
"My brother will go with us," said the pleased Deerfoot.
"If you don't feel too proud to have me for company, I'll be mighty
glad to go with you."
"Nothing will suit us better," said George, heartily. It was natural
that he and Victor should feel profoundly grateful to the trapper. Even
had he not done them so measureless a service they would have liked him
from the first.
It was not until the night had fully come, the evening meal eaten and
the fire replenished, though the weather remained mild, that a full
interchange took place among the different members of the little party.
Victor suffered less from his bruises, and with his blanket wrapped
about his shoulders showed no effects from his terrifying adventure.
The horses were left to themselves, Jack Halloway saying that no
attention need be given to his, despite the possibility of some
thieving Indian making off with him. The trapper expressed unbounded
admiration of Whirlwind, and could not understand how Deerfoot had ever
gained such a piece of property. George and Victor did not dare to
explain in the presence of the Shawanoe, but each determined to do so
on the first opportunity, despite the risk of another "disciplining" at
the hands of the modest youth.
After Jack had smoked awhile and the chat had gone on without any
special point, he turned to the Shawanoe and said:
"I've seen you stealing a look at me now and then and I know what you
done it for."
"Yes, Deerfoot did so; but my brother cannot tell the reason."
"You've been trying to find out from my looks whether I've stuck to the
pledge I made you a year ago to give up drinking whiskey."
"That was the reason; Deerfoot was almost but not quite certain."
"Have you any doubts left?"
The Shawanoe smiled.
"Only a shadow."
"Wal, you can kick that shadow out of sight! I haven't drank a drop of
the stuff since that night, a year ago, when I flung my flask into the
creek, after hearing your sermon, that shook me down to my toes."
Deerfoot leaned over and offered his hand again to happy Jack Halloway,
who turned to the boys.
"Being as he never told you, I might as well give you the story."
Thereupon the trapper related in his characteristic fashion the
incident of which you heard long ago. The eyes of the boys kindled and
Victor said:
"That is only one of a hundred things Deerfoot has done."
Catching a warning look from the Shawanoe, Victor said in desperation:
"I'm not going to try to give a list, Deerfoot, but won't you let me
tell Jack how you whipped the greatest war chief of the Blackfeet and
how he became a Christian?"
"There is no need of that, but my brothers may tell what happened to
them when they disobeyed Deerfoot."
"I'll do that if you don't shut down on the other story."
The Shawanoe would have refused, but the trapper's curiosity had been
stirred and he insisted upon hearing of the incident. As a compromise
the Indian youth rose to his feet and sauntered out to where Whirlwind
was still cropping the juicy herbage. He would not stay and listen to
what he knew was about to be said. The boys were glad to have him
absent, for it left them free to speak what they pleased, and you may
be sure that Victor and George did not mince matters. Their account of
that remarkable combat and its results was told with graphic eloquence.
Then George added the story of Deerfoot's encounter with the grizzly
bear and his defeat of the Assiniboine, whose life he spared. Inasmuch
as the boys had never been able to draw the particulars of that combat
from Deerfoot, Victor had to embellish it with his own imagination, and
he did it to perfection. He was in the midst of a description of how
the Shawanoe beat the best marksmen, runners and leapers of the
Blackfeet when Deerfoot came back to the camp fire.
"Now let my brothers tell of what happened to them when Deerfoot was
through with Taggarak."
"You needn't worry; I didn't forget that. Well, Jack, you see Deerfoot
forbade me and George to come anywhere near, but we couldn't stay away.
He found it out, cut a big gad and splintered it over our shoulders and
we couldn't help ourselves."
And then Jack Halloway threw back his head and roared with laughter,
declaring that he had never heard so good a story.