DEERFOOT'S WOODCRAFT.
Neither Deerfoot nor the trapper wished to engage in the trial of skill
suggested by Burt Hawkins. Crumpet feared that if such a test took place
he would be worsted, in which event he would never hear the last of it
from his friends. He might well shrink, therefore, from such a contest.
The Shawanoe knew he could surpass the trapper if he exerted himself, as
he most certainly would do. Crumpet's ill-nature would be embittered,
and matters were likely to take an unpleasant shape. When Hawkins turned
toward him, therefore, expecting him to bound to his feet and invite the
challenge, he shook his head:
"Deerfoot's arrows are few, and he saves them for game or his enemies."
"And therein is wise," added Kellogg, shrewd enough to see the situation
in all its bearings.
Crumpet said nothing, but was greatly relieved, while Hawkins gave a
sniff of disgust.
"Some folks are very free with their tongues, but when you come down to
business they ain't there; howsumever, let that go; we've got our extra
rifle, and I s'pose we might as well keep up the tramp toward St. Louis.
Deerfoot, can't you go with us?"
He shook his head, and said:
"Deerfoot is hunting for two friends who are lost; he must not sleep nor
tarry on the way."
"How is that?" asked Burt, while the others listened with interest. The
young Shawanoe told, in his characteristic manner, the story which is
already well known to the reader. While doing so he watched each
countenance closely, hoping (though he could give no reason for such
hope) to catch some sign of a shadowy knowledge of that for which he was
seeking, but he was disappointed.
"One thing is sartin," remarked Burt Hawkins, when the story was fully
told, "them boys ain't dead."
"I agree with you," said Kellogg, with an emphatic nod of the head, in
which even the surly Crumpet joined. Deerfoot was surprised at this
unanimity, and inquired of Hawkins his reason for his belief.
"'Cause it's agin common sense; when two young men go out in the woods
to hunt game, both of 'em ain't going to get killed: that isn't the
fashion now-a-days. One of 'em might be hurt, but if that was so, and
the other couldn't get away, the Injins would take him off and keep him.
More than likely the varmints carried away both, and if you make a good
hunt for three or four thousand miles around, you'll get track of 'em."
"I think I know a better plan than that," said Kellogg, and, as the
others looked inquiringly toward him, he said, "both of them chaps have
been took by Injins who'll keep them awhile. One of these days the boys
will find a chance to give 'em the slip, and they'll leave on some dark
night and strike for home."
"It isn't likely both 'll have a show to do that at the same time," said
Crumpet, speaking with more courtesy than he had yet shown, and
manifesting much interest in the matter.
"No; one will have to leave a good while before the other, and then the
one that is left will be watched that much sharper, but all he's got to
do is to bide his time."
"When one of my brothers comes through the woods to his home, the other
will come with him," said Deerfoot, confident as he was that neither
Jack Carleton nor Otto Relstaub would desert the other, when placed in
any kind of danger.
Deerfoot was confirmed in his theory of the disappearance of his young
friends, for it agreed with what he had formed after leaving the
settlement that morning. But, admitting it was the correct theory, the
vast difficulty of locating the boys still confronted him. They might be
journeying far southward in the land of the Creeks and Chickasaws, or to
the homes of the Dacotah in the frozen north, or westward toward the
Rocky Mountains.
Kellogg and Crumpet now fell into an earnest discussion of the question,
for, though agreeing in the main, they differed on minor points, in
which each was persistent in his views. Deerfoot listened to every word,
for, like a wise man, he was anxious to gain all the knowledge he could
from others.
But he noticed that for several minutes Burt Hawkins took no part in the
conversation. He had sat down again on the log, thrown one leg over
another, and was slowly stroking his handsome beard, while his gaze was
fixed on the ground in front. He was evidently in deep thought.
Such was the fact, and just as the lull came, he reached his conclusion.
Deliberately rising to his full height, he walked over to where Deerfoot
stood, and with another slap on his shoulder, said:
"See here, young man!"
The warrior faced him, earnest, attentive, and interested. Burt shifted
the weight of his body, so that it rested on his right leg; he looked
down in the eyes of Deerfoot, his brow wrinkled as in the case when a
man is about to deliver himself of the most important and original
thoughts of his life. Then he began wabbling the index finger of his
right hand in the face of the warrior, as a man with the important and
original thought is inclined to do. He commenced to wabble quite slowly,
gradually increasing the amplitude of the vibrations, and passing his
finger so close to the countenance of the Shawanoe that it seemed
almost to graze the end of his nose. He spoke slowly, pointing his words
with his swaying finger:
"Deerfoot, I've got the question answered; listen to me: them boys have
been tooken away by Injins; I know it; now where have the Injins gone?
You ought to know as much about your race as me, but you don't; do what
I tell you; go to the south till you come to some Injin village; make
your inquiries there; if they haven't got the boys, they'll know whether
the tribe that took 'em passed through their country, 'cause they
couldn't very well do so without some of their warriors finding it out.
If none of them don't know nothing about no such party, you can make up
your mind you're barking up the wrong tree; then take an excursion west
and do the same thing; then, if you don't learn anything, try toward the
north; there ain't any use in going eastward, for common sense will
teach you they haint been tooken that way; a chap with your good sense
will pick up some clue that'll show you the way through."
"My brother speaks the words of wisdom," said Deerfoot, who was much
impressed by the utterances of the trapper: "Deerfoot will not forget
what he has said; he will carry his words with him and they shall be his
guide; Deerfoot says good-bye."
And with a courteous salute to the three, the young warrior walked a few
steps, broke into a light run, and was out of sight before his intention
was fairly understood. The trappers looked in each others' faces,
laughed, made some characteristic remarks, and then turned to their own
business.
Deerfoot the Shawanoe had determined to follow the advice given by Burt
Hawkins the trapper. It certainly was singular that such an
extraordinary woodman as the Indian should profit by the counsel of a
white man, even though he was a veteran; but Deerfoot had studied the
problem so long that his brain was confused, and, having fixed his own
line of conduct, he only needed the endorsement of some sturdy character
like the hunter. He had received that endorsement, and now he could not
use too much haste.
His intention was to journey rapidly southward, in the direction of the
present State of Arkansas, until he should reach some of the Indian
villages that were there a hundred years ago. He would push his
inquiries among them, just as Burt Hawkins had suggested, pressing the
search in other directions, until able to pick up some clue. After that,
it would be an easy matter to determine the line of policy that would
lead to success.
Any one engaged in such a task as that on which the young Shawanoe had
entered, needs to take all the observations he can, for the knowledge
thus gained is sure to be of great help. The Indian scanned the country
opening to the southward, and, as was his custom, turned his face toward
the first elevation which would give him the view he was so desirous of
obtaining.
The elevation was similar to those with which the reader became familiar
long ago, and the sun had not yet reached the horizon when the lithe
warrior had climbed to the crest of the ridge, and was scanning the
wilderness which opened to the south and west. He was in a region where
he was warranted in looking for Indian villages, and his penetrating
eyes traveled over the area with a minuteness of search hardly
imaginable by the reader. The country was so broken by mountain, hill,
and wood, that the survey was much less extended than would be supposed.
He was disappointed in one respect, however: he could detect no Indian
village in the whole range of vision.
But, besides the dim smoke from the camp he had left a short time
before, he observed another to the westward, and a third to the south;
he concluded to make his way to the last, though he half suspected it
was the camp of another party of trappers, from whom he could not gather
the first morsel of information.
Deerfoot pushed toward the valley, less than a mile distant, from which
the tell-tale vapor ascended, and was quite close to the camp, when he
became aware that an altogether unexpected state of affairs existed.
Despite his usual caution, his approach was detected, and the Shawanoe
found himself in no little peril.
It is difficult, if not impossible, to make clear how it was Deerfoot
discovered this singular state of affairs; but he was more than a
hundred yards from the camp, which was screened by a dense undergrowth
and rocks, when he stopped abruptly, warned to do so by that subtle
instinct which is like a sixth sense.
He did not leap behind a tree, nor fall on his face and creep to the
rear of the large boulder on his right, but he stood erect, using the
faculties of hearing and sight with a delicate power and unerring skill
which were marvelous in the highest degree.
The black eyes glanced around, as he slowly turned his head from side to
side, and he saw everything in front, rear, at his right, left, and
above, among the limbs and on the ground. He heard the silken rustling
of several leaves in the top of a beach overhead, and he knew it was
caused by one of those slight puffs of wind which make themselves known
in that manner.
The inhalation through his nostrils brought the faint odor of the elm,
the oak, the hickory, the chestnut, the sycamore, and the resinous pine.
He identified them, I say, as well as the peculiar and indescribable
odor given off by the decaying leaves, the mossy rocks, and even the
rotting twigs and branches; but among them all he detected nothing of a
foreign nature.
But it was his hearing upon which he mainly depended, though his eyes
were forced to their highest skill. When the pinnated leaf of a hickory
was shaken loose by the wind puff it had hardly floated from its stem
before he caught sight of it, and followed it in its downward course
until it fluttered slowly to the ground.
It may be said that the danger which threatened Deerfoot was "in the
air," if it be conceivable that there is anything in the expression. He
was as certain of it as he was of his own existence, and yet he stood
motionless, displaying an incredible confidence in his ability to
discover the nature of the peril before it could take effective shape.
Had he leaped lightly behind a tree, he might have placed himself on the
side which would have left him exposed to the stealthy shot; had he
dropped to the ground and crept to one side of the moss-covered boulder,
the same fatal mistake was likely to be made. Therefore he stood as
rigid as iron, until he could learn the direction from which he was
threatened.
A rustling no louder than that made by the oscillation of a falling leaf
came from a point some distance ahead and on his right. So soft indeed
was the sound that it cannot be explained how the human ear could be
trained to the point of hearing it.
But it was that for which Deerfoot the Shawanoe was waiting, and it gave
him the knowledge he sought.