SHASTA'S HUNT.
If the Pah Utah in the extremity of his suffering had been betrayed into
the extraordinary weakness of manifesting it, he now seemed anxious to
make amends for the humiliating fact. It may have been that among his
own people he would have restrained those utterances which declared his
agony, and borne the utmost with the stoicism of his race; but knowing
that civilization does not teach such outward indifference to pain, he
had adopted the surest means to reach the sympathy of the white
strangers; or, if we may conjecture still further, the consciousness of
the instinctive feud between the American and Caucasian race told him
that the plan he took was the only one that offered safety to himself.
What reason had he to believe that the hunters were kind of heart? If he
hid his distress, would he not be treated as a well Indian? And was
there any but the one common ground upon which the two races met?
But the fever had passed and he was himself again. True, he was still
feeble, and his limbs trembled at times like those of an old man; but
the disease had gone, and the stern, unbending will had resumed its
sway. He was not a child, but he was Shasta, the Pah Utah Indian.
The inexperience of Elwood Brandon and Howard Lawrence with these
strange people made this savage an enigma to them. As he stood with his
arms folded, his blanket wrapped around him, his long black hair
streaming over his shoulders, and the mingling of the paint on his crown
and over his face, and his midnight eyes fixed upon them, it was hard
indeed to conjecture the thoughts filtrating through his brain.
But there is a language in which the human heart can speak--that of
emotion. The boys felt no fear--ingratitude is not an element of the
savage character, though sad to say it is sometimes manifested among us
of greater moral pretensions.
He looked at them as they came up and paused a few feet from him.
"You seem to be better?" asked Elwood, feeling it incumbent that he
should make some remark, even though it was incomprehensible to their
dusky friend. He muttered something and then stretched out his arms as
if to show that he had recovered from his illness.
At this point Terror went up to the savage and snuffed around him, as if
to satisfy himself of his identity. The latter laid his hand upon his
knife and watched the dog narrowly, but he appeared to judge the animal
by the company, and quietly removed his hand and folded his arms again.
He stood thus a moment, when he pointed to the eastern shore and then
down the river, nodding his head and gesticulating somewhat excitedly.
The boys in return nodded, which satisfied the aborigine. All at once he
moved off and strode rapidly to the other side of the island, where he
drew forth a tiny canoe and shoved it into the water.
[Illustration: "The Indian drew forth a tiny canoe and shoved it into
the water"]
When it was launched he turned again toward his friends, and looking
steadily at them a moment, once more pointed down stream, sprang into
the boat and dipped his paddle first upon one side and then upon the
other.
It was a sight to see him manage the canoe! It seemed made to contain a
single person, and the way it skimmed over the water was a perfect
marvel to the spectators. It appeared fairly to fly, scarcely touching
the water, while human art could not have exceeded the skill with which
he managed the paddle. He sat as motionless as a statue, like the
artistic violinist. It could not be seen that he raised his arms above
the elbow.
The sun was just going over the western hills, and the reflection of the
water as it flashed and rippled from his paddle gave a fairy-like
appearance to the Indian as he sped down stream that was pleasing to the
last degree.
"What does that mean?" asked Elwood.
"It means that he is going to the rescue of Tim."
"If he goes after him he will bring him back. Just see the way in which
he manages that canoe! It is worth going a hundred miles to see!"
"No doubt he has practiced it long enough."
"But what of our remaining here?"
"I don't see how it can be helped."
"Suppose those Indians that have followed Tim take it into their heads
to pay us a visit?"
"He will take all their attention, if Shasta concludes to have a part in
the matter, and they won't have time to think of us."
"But suppose they _do_ come back here?"
"We must be prepared at any rate; but don't let the thought make us
uneasy. We have two good guns, and Terror would be worth half a dozen
men if we get into close quarters."
"He may be all that; but a rifle-shot could quickly stretch him out
lifeless. It won't do for us to go to sleep until Tim or Shasta come
back."
"Of course not. I do not feel like it, even if we were satisfied that it
was safe for us to do so."
"Look at Shasta!"
The Indian was far down the stream, still speeding with his
extraordinary velocity, using his arms as though they would never tire.
"So sick a few hours ago!"
"Well enough now."
"Didn't you notice how he trembled?"
"Yes; he is still weak, but an Indian soon recovers himself."
"All he needed was the root which he chewed and which cured him almost
immediately. These savages are what you call Thomsonians I suppose."
"They are the original ones no doubt. I have heard that some of their
medicine men are the most skillful of physicians."
"Yes; we hear all kinds of things about them. What stories we have read,
and yet they don't look and act as I imagined they would. I thought they
would suffer and die without showing the least pain, and yet Shasta
wasn't anyways backward about it."
"No doubt the poor fellow felt bad enough, and he hasn't got over it
yet. You can tell that from his appearance."
"It will take all his skill to help Tim. Just as like as not he will
take Shasta for an enemy and shoot him."
"If they only see each other before dark, so that Tim can understand
that he has a friend at work."
"But you see it is nearly dark now, and it is likely he is in the woods
by this time."
"What danger can he be in then?"
"The Indians may cross over to follow him."
They were silent a while when Elwood suddenly exclaimed.
"Suppose Shasta is an enemy and has gone to help his people?"
Howard shook his head.
"No fear of that. That is the last thing that can occur."
The night gradually deepened and proved to be quite dark, a faint moon
shedding a luster that made the dim light more impressive. The boys
walked back and forth, watching and listening for some evidence of the
approach of their friends, and gradually becoming apprehensive despite
the attempt each made to cheer the spirits of the other.
It was not until quite late that Terror gave utterance to a low, warning
growl, and as they looked across the river they descried a dark object
cautiously approaching.
"What is it?" whispered Elwood.
"It is too dark to tell; but it can't be Tim or Shasta for it's coming
from the wrong direction."
"Aisy now, Mr. Shasta, aisy I say, for the boys may be asleep and we
won't come upon them too sudden't like, as me uncle said when he sat on
a barrel of gun-powder and it blowed up with him. Aisy, Mr. Shasta,
aisy!"