ON THE MOUNTAIN CREST.
The reader has not forgotten the encounter between Jacob Relstaub and
Deerfoot, the Shawanoe, when the former plunged headlong through his own
door in mortal fear that the tomahawk of the youthful warrior would be
sent crashing through his brain; but, much as Deerfoot despised the
German, he had no thought of visiting injury upon him. Shoving back the
weapon to its place in his girdle, he therefore strode off in the
forest, never pausing in his walk until the sun appeared above the
horizon. He was then many miles from Martinsville, his face turned
toward the southwest.
Throwing himself on his face, he quaffed his fill from a small, clear
stream, whose current was only moderately cool, and then, assuming an
easy posture on the ground, gave himself over to deep thought.
The question which he was seeking to answer was as to his duty. He had
gone to the settlement to see his young friends, and learned that they
had started some hours before on a hunting expedition. Such a proceeding
was so natural, and, withal, so common, that any one expressing wonder
thereat was likely to be laughed at for his words. The boys of the
frontier learn to handle the rifle when much younger than either Otto
Relstaub or Jack Carleton, and they were sometimes absent for days at a
time without causing any misgiving on the part of their parents.
Why, then, should Deerfoot be perplexed over the matter, when even the
mother of Jack expressed no fear concerning him?
Why, indeed? That was the query which puzzled the young warrior. It has
already been said it was the custom of Deerfoot to follow a certain
inexplainable intuition which often came to his help in his moments of
doubt. In the present instance, something seemed to whisper that it was
his duty to look after the boys, but the whisper was so low--as may be
said--that he hesitated to obey it, led to do so by a doubt as to
whether, after all, it was that instinctive prompting which hitherto
had guided him so infallibly in many of his daring enterprises and
undertakings.
It was characteristic of the warrior that, after spending a long time in
such anxious thought, he should draw his Bible from the inner pocket of
his hunting shirt, and begin looking through its pages for guidance.
There were certain portions that were favorites of his, and, without
searching, the volume opened to one after another of these places; but
seek as much as he chose, he could find nothing that bore on the problem
he wished to solve.
"The Great Spirit wills that Deerfoot shall settle the question for
himself," was his conclusion, as he returned the treasure to its place.
It may as well be admitted that the principal cause of Deerfoot's
hesitation cannot be given at this time. There was an urgent reason why
he should make haste to the southwest, and he longed to break into his
easy, loping trot, which he was able to maintain without fatigue from
rise of morn till set of sun. But the same strange impulse which sent
him into the settlement to inquire concerning his friends, still kept
them in his thoughts.
But he was not the youth to torment himself in this manner, hour after
hour, and he finally compressed his thin lips and muttered:
"Deerfoot will return in a few days, and then, if his brothers are still
gone, he will hunt for them."
This was not a satisfactory conclusion, but he followed it with his
usual promptness. He was in the very act of rising from the ground, when
his quick ear caught a faint footfall. Like a flash he raised his head,
and observed a noble buck approaching the water with the purpose of
drinking from it. It was not to be expected that the animal had any fear
of hunters in such a solitary place, and he came forward with a proud
step, as though master of the wilderness.
The Shawanoe waited until he was within fifty feet, when the buck
stopped short, and threw up his head as though he scented danger in the
air. At that instant Deerfoot bounded to his feet as if thrown upward by
a spring-board, and with a slight whoop, dashed straight at the animal,
swinging his arms and jumping from side to side in the most grotesque
fashion.
Few animals of the forest are more timid than the deer, which, like the
bear, is found in almost every portion of the American continent. The
buck with one swift whirl on his hoofs, faced the other way, and was off
like an arrow, shooting between the trees, through the undergrowth, and
bounding over obstructions as though they were not worth his notice. The
ordinary hunter might have found time to fire one shot, when the game
would have vanished like a bird on the wing, before he could reload; but
the occasion was a good one for Deerfoot to display his wonderful
fleetness, and he was in the mood to do so. He had made his gestures and
uttered his cries for the very purpose of terrifying the animal into
doing his utmost, and he did it.
With his head thrown back, so that his antlers almost rested on his
back, he plunged forward with amazing swiftness; but when he had gone
two hundred yards, he saw the same light, willowy figure almost on his
haunch. He even flung up his arms and shouted again, as if urging him to
a higher rate of speed. And such was the truth; Deerfoot was running as
fast as the game, and he was able to run still faster.
The buck bounded up a steep slope, and with one tremendous leap cleared
a craggy rock in his path. He had barely done so, when the young
Shawanoe was after him, going over with a lightness and grace that
showed no special effort. The pursuer was on his haunches, and the
animal, with glaring eyeballs and a horrified sniff, seemed to bound off
with the speed of the wind. But of what avail? The warrior was not to be
shaken off. With a speed which none of his race could equal, it was only
play for him to outrun the deer. Years before (as I have told in another
place), Deerfoot, for mere sport, pursued one of the fleetest of horses,
and kept it up hour after hour, until he ran down the steed. He was
doing the same to the buck. There was not a moment from the first when
he could not have launched an arrow that would have brought the game to
the ground; he was near enough to drive his tomahawk into the neck, but
he did nothing of that nature. Inasmuch as he was running the race, he
meant it should be a fair one, and neither should take any advantage
over the other.
What terrifying imaginings took possession of the buck when he awoke to
the fact that it was impossible to escape the dreadful being clinging
to his hips, cannot be understood by any of us, but that which followed,
incredible as it may seem, is an indisputable fact.
The singular race was kept up for slightly more than a mile, during
every fraction of which the fugitive put forth his highest possible
effort. Such a terrific strain cannot fail to tell upon the most highly
trained animal, and so, despite all he could do, the buck found himself
unable to keep up his prodigious tension. He was losing ground, and he
could not fail to know that escape was out of the question: he was as
much doomed as if surrounded and driven at bay by a dozen hunters and
their hounds. He was still running at his highest bent, when he suddenly
deviated to the right, and, with shocking violence, plunged squarely
against the trunk of a beech, and, falling over on his side, gave a few
convulsive struggles and died. Beyond question, the buck, when awake to
the fact that there was no hope for him, deliberately committed suicide
by breaking his neck.
The young Shawanoe paused, and looked down upon the quivering form with
feelings of pity.
"Why did he do that? Deerfoot felt too much sorrow to harm him; he only
sought to show him he could run the faster; but he will run no more, and
Deerfoot will eat."
The spot was suitable, and, within less time than would be supposed, the
warrior was seated on the ground, deliberately masticating a liberal
slice of broiled venison. Doubtless it would have been improved could he
have hung it in a cellar or tree for several days, but it wasn't
convenient to do so, and Deerfoot therefore ate it as he could obtain
it, and was satisfied therewith.
No water was within reach, the Indian following the healthful practice
of the wild animals themselves, of not partaking of drink while eating
food.
The meal finished, Deerfoot did not conduct himself like one who was
still in doubt as to the course he ought to follow. He had solved the
question earlier in the day, and, though the conclusion he reached was
not fully satisfactory, he resolutely forced aside all further thought
respecting it, and gave his attention simply to that which was before
him. His dinner required only a short time, when he resumed his journey,
if such it may be termed. He walked with his usual noiseless gait, in
which could be detected not the slightest weakness or exhaustion
resulting from his terrific run.
The young Shawanoe was advancing toward the mountainous portion of the
present State of Missouri. The Ozark range, or its spurs, cover one-half
of that large State, and their recesses afford hunting grounds and
retreats such as are surpassed by no other portion of the continent.
Deerfoot turned his footsteps toward a high promontory some miles
distant. It was the most elevated among many others, and formed a
landmark visible over a very extensive area. The youthful warrior did
not hasten his footsteps, for there was no call to do so, but he
steadily approached the mountain, up which he tramped in his leisurely
fashion, until he paused on the very highest point.
The journey was long, and when he came to a halt the sun was far down
the western horizon. The summit of the mountain was covered with rocks
and boulders, with here and there a few scrubby pines. Nothing could be
more unattractive than the broken, stony soil, but the view which was
spread out before him who climbed to the top was enough to kindle the
eye of a stoic, and make the heart overflow with love and awe toward the
great Being who made it all.
But the eye can become accustomed to the grandest scenes, and, although
Deerfoot leaned on the rock beside him, and allowed his keen vision to
wander over the magnificent panorama, it did not cause an additional
pulse-beat. When he had glanced at the mountains, the valleys between,
the broken country, the forests, the diversified scenery in every
direction, his gaze rested on another promontory similar to the one he
had climbed.
It was several miles distant, in a directly southern course, and was
nearly or quite two hundred feet higher than the one on which he stood.
The latter, like those to which reference has been made, was of the
nature of a ridge, while the one on which his eyes were fixed was a
diminutive Teneriffe as to its form.
While the manner of Deerfoot indicated very plainly that he expected to
see something out of the usual order of things, yet it looked very much
as if he would have been pleased over his failure to do so. No painter
could limn a more striking picture than that which was formed by
Deerfoot, at the close of that beautiful spring day, when, as the sun
was setting, he stood on the elevation and gazed across the intervening
country.
His right elbow rested on the top of the rock, and his right leg
supported the weight of his body. The lower half of the left leg was
slung across the other, the toe of the moccasin touching the earth. The
right hand dropped over the side of the rock, and lightly held the long
bow which leaned against the same support. The posture was that of
elegant ease, and the best calculated to bring out in clear relief the
Apollo-like splendor of his figure. The luxuriant black hair streaming
over the shoulders, the gaudy eagle feathers thrust in at the crown, the
lustrous black eyes, the slightly Roman nose, the rows of colored beads
around the neck, the dull yellow of the hunting shirt, the quiver of
arrows behind the right shoulder, the red sash, holding knife and
tomahawk, the gold bracelet on the left wrist, the fringed border of his
hunting shirt about the knees, the brilliant fringes to the leggings,
the pretty moccasins, and the shapeliness of form, limb and
feature--all these made up the poetical Indian, which, sad to say, is
almost as rare among his race as the black diamond is in nature.
But such was Deerfoot the Shawanoe.