A MISCALCULATION.
The youth had stopped paddling for a few minutes' rest, when he observed
that he was close upon a broad clearing which came close to the water's
edge. He had scarcely time to notice that much when he saw several large
conical objects, and before he knew it, he was floating in front of an
Indian village, numbering some twelve or fifteen wigwams. Squaws,
children, and even warriors were lolling about very much as in the Sauk
village, from which he had fled only a short time before.
It fairly took away the breath of Jack. In all his fancies he had not
once thought of anything like this, or he would have avoided running
into what promised to prove a fatal trap.
"My gracious!" he gasped, "this is a little too much of a good thing;
it'll never do at all."
The settlement was on the right hand bank of the stream, which just
there had a northerly course. It was, therefore, on the shore where the
fugitive desired to land. Dipping his improvised paddle, he drove the
boat ahead with all the power he could command, and drew a breath of
partial relief, when another sweeping curve shut him from sight.
It was apparent that the Indians failed to grasp the situation in its
entirety. They were accustomed to see white men hunting and trapping in
that region, and they may have felt no wish to molest one of their
number, though tempted so to do by his unprotected situation. At any
rate, they stared at the canoe without offering to disturb its occupant.
The black-eyed youngsters gaped wonderingly, and Jack saw several point
in his direction, while they doubtless indulged in observations
concerning him.
But it need not be said that he was frightened almost out of his wits,
and filled with self-disgust that he should have gone blindly into a
peril against which a child ought to have mounted guard. The moment he
felt he was out of sight of the redmen, who showed far less curiosity
than he expected, he sprang ashore and shoved the canoe back into the
current, which speedily carried it out of sight. Having landed, Jack
hastened among the trees at the fastest gait possible. He was close to
the village, although beyond sight. Glancing over his shoulder he
expected every minute to see some of the dusky warriors, and to hear
their whoops as they broke in pursuit.
It must have been that this particular Indian village felt little if any
interest in the white youth who paddled in front of their door, for not
one of the number made a move by way of pursuit.
When Jack had pushed through the wilderness for a couple of miles he
formed the same conclusion, and dropped to a deliberate walk. The face
of the country was rocky and broken, and he was confident that in many
places he had left no trail at all. But, with that conviction came two
others: he not only was tired but was excessively hungry. He had caught
sight of game more than once while on the march, as it may be called,
but refrained from firing through fear that the report of his gun would
guide others who were hunting for him. At the same time he had twice
heard the discharge of rifles at widely separated points. Probably they
were fired by Indians on the hunt, or possibly some of the trappers of
that section had not yet started on their long journey to St. Louis. At
any rate when the sun had passed the meridian and the afternoon was well
advanced, he made up his mind that he would take the first chance to
secure food, no matter in what shape it presented itself.
He smiled to himself, when within the succeeding ten minutes he caught
sight of a young deer among the trees less than one hundred feet in
advance. It bounded off affrighted by the figure of the youth, who,
however, was so nigh that he brought it to the ground without
difficulty.
When he ran forward to dress it, he was surprised to find it had fallen
within a rod of a ravine fifty feet deep.
This ravine, which had evidently been a canyon or ancient bed of some
mountain stream, was twenty yards or more in width, the rocky walls
being covered with a mass of luxuriant, creeping vines, through which
the gray of the rocks could be seen only at widely separated intervals.
The bottom was piled up with the luxuriant vegetable growth of a soil
surcharged with richness.
Jack Carleton took only time enough to comprehend these points when he
set to work kindling a fire against the trunk of a tree which grew close
to the ravine. When that was fairly going, he cut the choicest slices
from his game, and it was speedily broiled over the blaze. There was no
water, so far as he knew, closer than the creek, but he did not
specially miss it. Seasoned by his keen hunger, the venison was the very
acme of deliciousness, and he ate until he craved no more.
Then as he sat down on the leaves with his back to the tree opposite the
blaze, he probably felt as comfortable as one in his situation could
feel. He had pushed his strength almost to a dangerous verge, when rest
became a luxury, and as he leaned against the shaggy bark behind him, it
seemed as though he could sit thus for many hours without wishing to
stir a limb.
"I suppose," he said to himself in a drowsy tone, "that I ought to keep
on the tramp until night, when I can crawl in behind some log and sleep
till morning. It may be that one or two of the warriors from that last
village are on my trail, but it don't look like it, and a fellow can't
tramp forever without rest. I'll stop here for an hour or two, and then
go ahead until dark. There's one thing certain,--I've thrown Ogallah and
his friends so far off my track that they'll never be able to find it
again."
If any conclusion could be warranted, it would seem that this was of
that nature, and yet by an extraordinary chain of circumstances the very
danger which was supposed to have ended, was the one which came upon the
fugitive.
As he had anticipated, the method of his flight was discovered very
early the succeeding morning, and many of the warriors and large boys
started in pursuit. The hunt was pressed with a promptness and skill
scarcely conceivable. It was inevitable that they should be puzzled by
the singular proceeding with the canoes, and the pursuers became
scattered, each intent on following out his own theory, as is the case
with a party of detectives in these later days. The last boat was not
found, but the identical youth who had fared so ill at the hands of
Jack, came upon his trail where it left the river. His black eyes glowed
with anticipated revenge, which is one of the most blissful emotions
that can stir the heart of the American Indian.
The young Sauk might have brought a half dozen older warriors around him
by uttering a simple signal, but nothing could have induced him to do
so. He had his gun, knife, and tomahawk,--all the weapons he could carry
and all that were possibly needed. He had learned long before to trail
his people through the labyrinthine forest, and in a year more he
expected to go upon his first war trail. He hated with an
inextinguishable hatred the pale face who had overthrown him in the
wrestling bout and then had struck him a blow in the face, which,
figuratively speaking, compelled him to carry his nose for several days
in a sling. Ogallah had protected the sick pale face from molestation,
but now the chief was the most eager for his death.
The fugitive evidently believed he was safe against all pursuit, and it
would therefore be the easier to surprise him. What greater feat could
the young Sauk perform than to follow and secretly slay the detested
lad? What a triumph it would be to return to the village with his scalp
dangling at his girdle!
Holding his peace (though it was hard to keep down the shout of joy that
rose to his lips), he bounded away like a bloodhound in pursuit.
Despite the precautions taken by Jack Carleton, the pursuer found
little trouble in keeping to his trail, until it abruptly terminated on
the bank of the creek, where advantage had been taken of the canoe.
There he paused for a time at a loss what to do.
Of course he knew of the Indian village at no great distance down stream
and on the other side. Familiar as he was with the creek, he kept on
until he reached a place where it broadened and was so shallow that he
waded over without trouble. The red men whom he visited were friendly
with the offshoot of the Sauk tribe, so that no risk was run in going
among them. When he did so, as a matter of course, he gained the very
information he was seeking; the canoe with the fugitive in it went by
the village early in the morning. The pursuer declined the offer of help
and went on alone. He was hardly outside the village when he struck the
trail again, and, knowing he was at no great distance from the youth, he
followed with a vigor and persistency that would not be denied.
But during most of the time he was thus employed, Jack Carleton was
similarly engaged, and, despite the energy of the young Sauk, the hours
slipped by without bringing him a sight of the pale face, whose scalp he
meant to bring back suspended to his girdle. The fugitive had about
recovered his usual health, and he improved the time while it was his.
Had he pushed forward until nightfall before halting for food or rest,
he never would have been overtaken.
But the signs showed the dusky youth that he was close upon the
unsuspicious pale face, and he strode along with the care and skill of a
veteran warrior. Finally his trained senses detected the smell of
burning wood, and a moment later he caught sight of the camp-fire of
Jack Carleton. The Indian stopped, and after some reconnoitering,
concluded he could gain a better view from the other side the camp. With
incredible pains he moved around to that side and was gratified by a
success which glowed in his swarthy countenance and through his
well-knit frame.
He saw the pale face sitting on the ground, with his back against a
tree, his mouth open, and his eyes closed. His gun rested on the ground
beside him, and the wearied fugitive was asleep, and as helpless as an
infant.
The Sauk had only to raise his gun, take a quick aim, and shoot him
dead, before he awoke or learned his danger. He could leap upon and
finish him with his knife, but that would involve some risk to himself.
He decided to drive his tomahawk into the skull of his victim, and to
scalp him immediately after.
As the first step toward doing so, he leaned his rifle against the
nearest tree, so as to leave his arms free, and then, without any more
ado, grasped the handle of his tomahawk and poised himself with the
purpose of hurling it with resistless force and unerring aim. He was not
twenty feet distant from Jack; but while in the very act of raising the
missile above his head, his arm was struck a side blow so violent as
almost to break the bone. The tomahawk flew from his grasp to the earth,
and in a twinkling some one caught him around the waist, lifted him
clear of the ground, ran rapidly the few paces necessary, and flung him
over the rocks into the ravine!
The Sauk struggled desperately to save himself, but he could not check,
though he retarded his descent. He landed with a force that knocked the
breath from him, but the abundance of vines and vegetable growth saved
his life. After a time he slowly gathered himself together, and seeing
nothing of the enemy who had handled him so ruthlessly, he slowly
climbed to his feet and began picking his way out of the ravine.
He was compelled to walk a long distance before reaching a place where
he was able to clamber to the level ground above. When at last he
managed to do so, he sat down on a fallen tree to rest and indulge in a
retrospective survey.
His rifle and tomahawk were irrecoverably gone, and nothing would have
induced him to go back to look for them. If his right arm was not
broken, it was so injured and lamed that a long time must elapse before
he could use it, and altogether his enterprise could only be regarded as
a disastrous failure.
"It was an Indian that struck the tomahawk from my grasp," reflected the
victimized Sauk; "he was a terrible warrior!"
The youth was right in each respect, for the name of the Indian who made
such short work with him was Deerfoot the Shawanoe.